Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
Ilya
I watch Milana zip up her suitcase, trying to keep my mind on the mission instead of the way her bralette rides up every time she moves. Then we both hear the front door of the dorm open.
“Oh, that must be my roommate, Sarah,” Milana says quietly.
Voices drift in from the living room. One of them belongs to a woman, her voice trembling with concern. “Milana’s probably still at the police station. I should go back and see if I can bail her out. Her brother said he was sending someone, but it’s already so late…”
A male voice answers, lazy and annoyed. “Come on, babe, you worry too much. She’s fine.”
Sarah’s tone rises. “Of course, I’m worried! She got arrested because she was protecting me!”
“And that’s because you didn’t listen to me. I told you not to go to that party!” The guy’s voice turns pushy. “Now come here…”
There’s a beat of silence, then Sarah’s voice again, sharper. “Get off me. I’ve told you I don’t want to have sex tonight. I’m not in the mood.”
“Don’t be a tease. If I want it, I’m getting it.”
Milana’s eyes snap to mine, wide with alarm. “We have to do something.”
I wince. “Finish packing.”
I step out of her bedroom and into the living room.
The scene I walk into, makes my blood boil.
Some scrawny, entitled idiot has this girl, Sarah, pinned against the couch, his hands groping at her while she struggles.
He’s bigger than her but pathetic. The kind of coward who preys on women when he thinks they can’t fight back.
I walk over and grab him by the back of his shirt and rip him off her in one brutal motion. He stumbles, turning on me with a glare. “The fuck!”
The moment he sees me, fear flickers in his eyes. “Who the fuck are you?” he snaps, taking a wary step back. “Back off, man!”
I step closer, letting the full weight of my presence hit him. My voice comes out low, calm, and ice-cold. “I’m not going to repeat myself. Get the fuck out.”
The idiot actually laughs nervously. “This isn’t your business—”
My fist connects with his nose before he finishes the sentence. The crunch is satisfying. Blood sprays instantly. He drops to the floor, howling in pain, clutching his face like a fucking weakling.
I crouch down beside him, grabbing his hair and yanking his head back so he’s forced to look at me. “The next one won’t be a punch. I’ll carve your intestines out and make you watch while you choke on them. Do you understand me?”
Pure terror floods his eyes. Sarah’s face is sheet-white too, staring at me like I’m unhinged.
“God! You’re a psycho!”
The idiot scrambles backward on all fours, then bolts for the door, bleeding and whimpering.
The second he’s gone, Sarah turns to me, voice trembling. “Who the hell are you? And what were you doing coming out of Milana’s bedroom?”
Is that the thank-you I get? No manners at all from this girl and her friends.
Before I can answer, Milana steps out of her room. Sarah lets out a huge sigh of relief and rushes forward, pulling her into a tight hug. “Oh my God, you’re back! Are you okay? I was so scared—”
I leave the girls to their moment and walk back into Milana’s bedroom to grab her suitcase. My hands are still itching for more violence, but unfortunately, the idiot scurried off before I could land another punch.
I roll out the suitcase and stand by the door, giving the girls a moment. Milana hugs Sarah tightly, both murmuring in low tones.
“I’m okay. Lock the door after we leave and stay safe. I’ll call you when I land,” I hear Milana say.
Sarah nods, still looking shaken from the earlier scene. “Be careful, okay? Text me.”
I wheel Milana’s suitcase out to the car.
While they finish their goodbyes, I open the passenger door and quickly sweep out the shards of glass from the shattered window, making sure the seat is clear.
The last thing I need is her getting more cuts.
I toss her luggage into the trunk, then pull out my phone and dial the pilot.
“Get the jet ready. We’ll be at the airfield in twenty minutes.”
“Copy that.”
I hang up and head back inside. “Milana. Time to go.”
She gives Sarah one last hug, then follows me out.
I keep one hand near my gun as we walk to the car, eyes scanning the street, the shadows, every parked vehicle.
No tails. But I stay alert the entire drive, checking mirrors constantly, taking a few evasive turns just to be sure.
The city lights blur past as I push the car faster toward the private airfield.
We reach the airport without incident. I park close to the jet, unload her suitcase, and guide her up the stairs with a hand at the small of her back. The pilot nods at us as we board. The cabin is quiet, it’s just us, aside from the cabin crew moving softly in the background.
As the jet begins to taxi, I settle into the seat across from Milana, watching the way she curls into herself, and I force my gaze out the window as the plane lifts off, taking us back to the States.
Milana
The engines of the private jet hum as we prepare for takeoff. I’m sitting across from Ilya, and I can’t seem to shake the intensity of his stare.
This close to him, I can now make out the real color of his eyes, a striking steel gray, piercing in a way that feels like they see straight through me. When the cabin lights catch them at the right angle, they almost look silver, sharp and metallic, like polished blades reflecting danger.
He breaks the silence first. “So, you can’t shoot?”
I shake my head. “No.”
He studies me for a long moment. “Then how do you protect yourself?”
“I know some self-defense. I’m not completely helpless.”
The look he gives me as his gaze drags slowly from my face down my body and back up again says he doesn’t believe a single word. Just because I’m slender and look delicate, people always assume I’m fragile. I’m used to it. Right now, though, I’m too exhausted to argue.
I rub my temples. “Can I have my phone back? We’re about to take off. I need to let my brothers know I’m okay.”
Ilya leans back in his seat. “It’s not safe yet. I don’t know who might be tracking it. Until I can install a secure encryption and make sure there are no trackers, it stays off.”
I sigh. “But I need to tell them I’m on my way.”
Without a word, he reaches into his jacket and hands me a burner phone. I take it and see my brothers’ numbers has been selected. I dial Mikhail.
He answers on the first ring. “Ilya?”
“It’s me.”
“Milana, I take it you’re with Ilya now?”
“Yes, we’re about to take off.”
“Good. You okay?” His voice is tight with worry.
“I’m fine.”
“We’ll be waiting for you when you land. Don’t give Ilya any trouble.”
I almost smile. “Okay.”
“Safe flight, little sister.”
I end the call and hand the phone back to Ilya. A wave of gratitude washes over me. I hate how this pulls me back into the family chaos, but I’m so thankful they sent someone. If they hadn’t… those men who attacked us could have taken me. Or worse, they might have gone after Sarah next.
I hate putting people I care about in danger. That’s one of the biggest reasons I’m not fighting this harder. I can’t risk my friends or classmates getting caught in Bratva crossfire.
The pilot’s voice comes over the intercom. “Preparing for takeoff. Please fasten your seatbelts.”
I buckle in, rest my head against the cool leather of the seat, and close my eyes. The adrenaline from the night is finally crashing. The hum of the engines lulls me as the jet accelerates down the runway and lifts into the sky.
Exhaustion pulls me under, and I drift off to sleep, the weight of Ilya’s piercing gray eyes still lingering in my mind.
The pilot’s voice crackles over the intercom, pulling me from a deep sleep. “We have landed in New York.”
I blink groggily, disoriented. It feels like I only closed my eyes for five minutes, but the sky outside the windows is already light. A quick glance at my smartwatch tells me it’s just after 5 a.m. I must have slept the entire flight.
Ilya is already unbuckling, watching me with that same intense gray stare.
We disembark, and a black SUV is waiting on the tarmac.
A man standing beside it hands the keys to Ilya without a word.
My suitcase has been loaded into the trunk, and I slide into the passenger seat, exhaustion and jet lag weighing heavily on me.
The city is still mostly asleep as we drive, the streets quiet except for the first hints of early morning activity, delivery trucks, joggers, the soft glow of streetlights fading against the dawn. I rub my eyes and turn to him.
“Are we going to my family home?”
“No.”
“Then where? My sister’s place?”
“No.”
Panic edges into my voice. “Where are you taking me, Ilya?”
He keeps his eyes on the road. “My place.”
“What?” I stare at him, heart picking up speed. “Your place? Why?”
Before he can answer, his phone rings. He pulls it out, glances at the screen, and answers. “Yeah, we landed.”
He switches almost immediately to rapid Russian, his voice low and clipped. I catch fragments, something about arrival, security, Michael, but I can’t make out enough to be sure who he’s talking to.
Eventually we reach Manhattan. The towering buildings loom around us as he turns into the underground parking garage of a modern high-rise. He ends the call, pockets his phone, and kills the engine.
“Where are we?” I ask, looking around the dimly lit garage.
“My building. My apartment.”
I shake my head, confusion and frustration mixing together. “Why aren’t we going to my house? I don’t even know you.”
“I’m following your brothers’ instructions,” he says calmly, turning those piercing steel-gray eyes on me. “Going back to the family home is too obvious right now. I’m not publicly connected to your family. No one will think to look for you here.”
I let out a disbelieving laugh. “This is the middle of the city. It’s completely exposed.”
“That’s exactly why it works. The best place to hide something is in plain sight.” He gets out of the car and comes around to open my door. “You’re staying with me.”
The words settle over me like a heavy blanket as I step out. This isn’t some temporary escort situation. I’m going to be living with this hot, controlling stranger for God knows how long.