Chapter 40
YURI
“I’ll give you everything,” he gasps, words tumbling out so fast he chokes on them. “You want De la Rosa’s accounts? The offshore names? The couriers? I’ve got it all. I’ll give it to you. Jesus, just don’t put me in gen pop. Do you know what they’d do to me in there?”
Spalding’s surrounded by a ring of stone-faced federal agents.
From where I stand, just outside the circle, I can see every twitch of his ruined body. His hair’s matted to his skull, eyes wild and rimmed red. He’s begging. Full-on groveling. No pride left, just spit and panic, and the stench of fear rolling off him in waves.
He tries to lean forward on the stretcher but collapses onto one elbow, the motion jerky and pitiful. His wrist is cuffed to the metal frame, the paramedics working briskly around him as they prep for transport.
His body’s wrecked—three clean shots to the shoulder, side, and thigh, courtesy of me—yet he keeps talking, babbling on like desperation might somehow outweigh the blood soaking through the sheets.
The lead agent doesn’t blink. “Start with where he is. Right now.”
Spalding’s mouth opens then closes like a fish on a dock. “I want it in writing. I’m not saying another word until I have full immunity. No jail time. New name. Relocation. Somewhere warm. I’m not dying in a cage.”
He sounds like a man still pretending he has options. I almost feel sorry for him. Almost.
“If he starts foaming at the mouth,” comes a drawl behind me, “I call dibs on putting him down.”
Alexei steps up, his gait unhurried. He looks like hell, split lip, dried blood on his sleeve, but that signature grin is sharp as ever. He’s enjoying this. Maybe a little too much.
“Charming,” I murmur.
Alexei shrugs. “Just being practical.”
I let out a dry laugh. “I owe you one, bro.”
“You owe me two,” he says. “And I want a gift basket this time. With real brie. None of that waxy shit.”
I shake my head, but the amusement fades as I look past him, past Spalding, past the agents still arguing logistics.
Astrid’s sitting on the bumper of the medic van, a blanket draped around her shoulders. A paramedic is crouched beside her, checking vitals, calmly speaking. She’s half-listening at best; her eyes keep drifting, scanning the chaos, searching for me.
My breath catches painfully in my chest. There’s blood on her shirt. Her lip is split. Her wrists are red and raw from the restraints. But she’s upright. She’s breathing.
She’s alive.
The instinct to go to her is overwhelming, primal. My legs twitch with the urge to close the distance, to pull her into my arms and never let her go again. But I stop myself. She needs the medics right now, not me barreling in like some wrecking ball. She needs care. Safety. A clean bill of health.
Even if every part of me is aching to hold her.
So I wait. Watching. Not because I want to. Because I have to.
The interior of the warehouse smells like gunpowder, the last wisps of smoke curling near the rafters.
Cleanup crews are starting to arrive, quiet footsteps and clipped radios moving through the wreckage.
I find Elena first, planted near one of the exit points, headset around her neck, sleeves rolled to her elbows. She looks calm, focused.
"You good?" I ask.
She nods. “Flawless entry, minimal resistance after the breach. No injuries on our side.”
“Could’ve left us a few more to handle,” Luk mutters as he joins us, brushing dust off his jacket like this was all a minor inconvenience. “Some of us need the cardio.”
Lev appears next, silent and towering. He folds his arms across his chest. “Christian’s crew fell apart the moment they realized they were outgunned. One of them even begged for a job.”
Grigori arrives last, looking smug, a little smile playing in his eyes. “Place is clean. No signs of explosives or booby traps, which honestly feels like a missed opportunity on their part.”
I exhale slowly. For the first time in hours, my pulse starts to level.
“So,” I say, glancing at the others, “Spalding’s down. Christian’s in the wind. And we’re still standing.”
“We’re not just standing,” Elena says. “We’re stronger than we’ve ever been. The Feds will use Spalding as a bargaining chip. De la Rosa’s network just took a major hit. Half the city’s power players will be scrambling for cover.”
“We could make a real move now,” Luk suggests, eyes glinting. “Stabilize everything. Bring order. Maybe even—”
Lev cuts in, “You sound like Papa.”
Luk shrugs, unbothered. “He wasn’t wrong about everything.”
Lev looks around the room. “Anyone seen Tatiana?”
There’s a pause. A shared silence, like we’re all realizing the same thing at once.
“She’s not here,” Elena says, frowning. “She slipped out before the shooting started.”
Lev scoffs. “Of course she did. Let Spalding play the frontman while she keeps her hands clean. If it all went sideways, she could pretend she was never involved.”
“Coward’s tactic,” I say coldly. “She wanted the power, the glory, just not the dirt under her nails.”
“She’ll try to frame this like she had no idea,” Lev mutters, disgust curling his lip.
“Lucky for us,” Elena cuts in, a glint in her eye, “we have proof she was in it up to her perfectly arched eyebrows.”
I grin. “I’ll break the news.”
“You volunteering?” Elena smirks.
“Oh, gladly,” I say. “Let’s see how she spins it when the walls close in.”
The amusement fades when I catch movement to my left.
Paramedics step back, their forms parting like a curtain, revealing Astrid.
She’s perched on the edge of a folded blanket now.
Her face is pale but alert, hair damp and wild, a shallow scrape across her cheekbone.
She’s still speaking softly to one of the medics, nodding.
The moment they clear, I don’t wait. I cross the distance in long, steady strides.
She sees me coming. Her eyes—God, those eyes—light up in a way that makes everything else fall away. The blood, the bodies, the smoke, the ruined warehouse… all of it fades.
“Are you okay?” I drop to a crouch in front of her, hands moving instinctively to check her shoulders, her arms, legs, scanning her for any injury the paramedics may have missed. “Anything broken? Bruised? Did they—”
“I’m fine,” she says quickly, cupping my cheek. “And so are the babies. They checked. I promise.”
I let out a long breath. My forehead drops gently to hers, the contact grounding. “You scared the hell out of me.”
“You’re one to talk.”
We stay like that for a long, silent beat, heartbeats syncing. Then I pull back just enough to look at her fully. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
She opens her mouth but hesitates. “Actually,” she says, her voice soft, “there’s something I need to tell you first.”
Something in her shifts. I see the faint furrow of her brow. The tension behind her smile.
My spine straightens, the edge returning to my voice. “What is it?”
Her fingers tighten slightly on mine. Something’s coming. I just don’t know if I’m ready for it.
Astrid’s hand stays curled around mine, but her gaze drifts back toward the chaos of the warehouse—flashing lights, the sharp voices of agents corralling what’s left of Spalding’s disaster. The scene is too loud, too bright.
“Can we walk?” she asks quietly. “I just need a minute. Away from this.”
“Of course.”
I guide her past the EMTs and the low hum of federal radios, past the black SUVs and shattered glass.
The night air wraps around us like a blanket.
Lev is speaking with one of the FBI leads.
They’re watching us, just enough to keep track.
Which means I don’t have to look over my shoulder for once. Not for danger, anyway.
“You can tell me anything. Whatever it is, we’re going to be okay.”
She nods, her throat working as she searches for the right words. She reaches into her coat. “I have something to show you.”
I blink. “Okay.”
She pulls out three small, familiar shapes—USB drives—the dull metal catching the moonlight. I don’t register them as mine right away. Not until she places them in my hand. And then the realization crashes in.
“These are—” I break off. “From my office.”
The same ones I thought had vanished. The ones I was certain the FBI had seized during their raid. Sensitive files. Quiet offshore accounts. Records I never wanted public.
“I thought the Bureau had these,” I say slowly.
“They almost did,” she replies. “But I got to them first. When Spalding kidnapped me, he took them from me, and I feared what was initially meant to save you might become your undoing. But then after you shot him, while he was on the ground unable to move, I snatched them back. I did a quick pat down when no one was looking and found them in his pants pocket.”
I stare at her, relief hitting me first, sharp and fierce, followed by confusion. “You got to them just in time. That’s a good thing, right? So why are you looking at me like that?”
She sighs. “Because I took them.”
My brows lift. “You just said you saved them.”
“I did. But I didn’t give them back to you, Yuri. I kept them for myself. Even after everything.”
My pulse steadies but my thoughts race. “Why?”
She looks away. “Because I didn’t know if I could stay. I didn’t know if this world—your world—was one I could live in. Not without having a way out.”
My hand tightens around the drives. “So they were insurance.”
She nods. “Yes. Security. A door if I needed one. But then they fell into the wrong hands. And that door almost got me killed.”
Now I understand and part of me can’t blame her. I exhale slowly. “You didn’t know who I was or what any of this really meant.”
“No,” she says. “But I do now.”
We walk a few more steps, silence blooming between us. A path opens around a small lake rimmed with reeds, moonlight turning the water silver. She stops at the edge. I clutch the USB drives still in my hand.
“Is there anything on those you’d miss?” she asks.
I look down at them. They’re full of secrets, leverage, and proof of the money that helped me build my world. I shake my head. “Not a thing.”
Without hesitation, she plucks them from my palm and pitches them into the lake. The splash is quiet. Final. We both stand next to the lake, watching the ripples fade.
She turns to me, eyes softer now, shimmering with something fragile and new. “You said you had something to tell me.”
I nod. My chest tightens—not from fear, but from the weight of what I’ve held in for far too long.
“Yeah. I do. I’ve been good at keeping things in,” I start, my voice low and steady. “My whole life, really. Feelings. Fears. Weaknesses. It’s how I was raised. How I survived. You lock things down. You don’t show your hand. You protect what matters by keeping it hidden.”
She says nothing, just watches me with that fierce, open gaze of hers. The one that sees everything.
“But then you got on that plane,” I say, my lips curving into a smile. “And suddenly I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Not for a second. I tried to ignore it, telling myself it was nothing, that it would pass. But it didn’t.”
Her breath catches.
“I’ve seen a lot of people come and go. A lot of faces, names, women who smiled but never really saw me. You did. From the first moment, you saw right through all the ice. And somehow, you didn’t run.”
A lump rises in my throat. I swallow hard.
“I fell for you so fast, Astrid. Before I even knew your last name. And then, once I did—once I learned who your father was, who you were connected to—it scared the hell out of me. Because I thought it meant I had to walk away. That the history was too complicated.”
She opens her mouth, but I shake my head gently, stopping her from saying anything.
“I couldn’t. I didn’t know how. You got under my skin, and then deeper. You terrified me, Astrid, because you made me want things I never let myself want.”
She takes my hands and grips them.
“I should’ve told you I loved you the night I realized it,” I say. “I should’ve said it a hundred times since. But I kept waiting for the right moment. For the perfect time. And then you were taken, and I thought I might never get the chance again.”
My voice cracks, just a little, at the last sentence. “The thought of losing you, of losing our children…” I trail off, jaw clenched, blinking fast to ward off the tears. “I’ve seen death a hundred times. But nothing has ever scared me like that did.”
I meet her eyes, heart bare. “I love you, Astrid. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone or anything. And I don’t want a life where I have to pretend that’s not true.”
She pulls me into her arms, and I bury my face in her neck, holding her like she might vanish if I let go.
“I love you too,” she whispers. “I’ve loved you this whole damn time.”
We kiss—slow, deep, aching.
And for the first time in weeks, everything feels still.