22. Katerina #2
A man like him doesn’t seem remotely capable of that kind of care, especially for a stranger he had just been tasked to drag off the property of a military official like contraband.
The way he stands across from me now with his arms loose at his sides, his posture relaxed but somehow still coiled with the kind of quiet violence that could snap into motion at any second, makes it clear he has no interest in pretending otherwise.
His presence fills the room in a way that would’ve set my teeth on edge weeks ago.
It seems the more I learn about the men inside this secret society, the clearer something becomes.
Every one of them is a brute in his own particular way.
Aleksandr is simply the least obvious version of it.
His brutality has always been direct, wrapped up and disguised with lazy confidence and a possessiveness that makes no apologies for itself.
When he walks into a room, people move on instinct because that little voice inside their head tells them they should.
The man standing in front of me now is much different from that. Quieter, but the same violence hums under his skin all the same.
It’s in the way his eyes watch everything at once.
The way he holds himself like he has spent his life around people who would happily put a knife in his throat if he gave them half the chance.
Even the casual way he holds himself carries the subtle tension of someone who expects trouble no matter who is standing in front of him.
There’s no softness in him. No pretense of charm like Aleksandr.
It makes a strange kind of sense.
Men like Aleksandr don’t surround themselves with gentle company.
A soft gasp from the doorway draws our attention at the same time.
My head turns just as his does to a woman standing at the threshold of the room, frozen in place as if she hadn’t expected to walk in on anyone at all.
She looks around my age, maybe a year or two older. Her dark hair spills in loose waves over her shoulders, slightly mussed like she had been running her fingers through it in a nervous habit. Her eyes are wide with worry, focused solely on the man standing in front of me.
She’s dressed simply compared to the opulence of the room around her.
A soft gray cashmere sweater is draped over fitted leggings, thick wool socks covering her feet.
The outfit looks comfortable and domestic, like she had been curled up somewhere with a book when the sound of the front doors and unfamiliar voices pulled her from whatever quiet evening she had been having.
The moment she sees him, she moves.
She crosses the room without hesitation, reaching for him the instant she’s close enough.
Her hands lift to his face, cupping his jaw as her fingers brush carefully over the marks I’d carved into his cheek less than an hour ago.
The scratches are darker now, the blood dried in thin lines along his skin.
Even from this distance, they look worse than I realized.
“What happened? Are you hurt?” Her voice cracks slightly.
He catches her wrists gently before she can examine the cuts further. The movement is instinctive. He brings one of her hands up and presses a kiss to the inside of her wrist.
“I’m fine, Malyshka.”
The woman exhales shakily, the tension visibly draining from her shoulders as relief floods her expression. Then she rises onto her toes and kisses him.
“You promise?” she murmurs against his mouth.
He smiles slowly. The expression transforms his face entirely. “Of course.”
I blink, bewildered.
The man standing in front of me is suddenly not the same person who dragged me out of a tunnel and insulted me five minutes ago.
Not even close.
In the span of seconds, the hard edge that had been wrapped around him dissolves.
His posture relaxes, his arms slide around her waist, pulling her close in a way that’s protective without being possessive.
His head dips slightly as if he’s unconsciously lowering himself to her height.
His expression softens completely, tenderness flickering across his features in a way that feels almost… too intimate to witness.
The man who had been staring me down earlier like I was nothing more than an inconvenience now looks at her like she’s the only person in the room worth acknowledging. It’s such a stark shift that it leaves me staring without meaning to.
I suppose even the most dangerous men in Moscow apparently have one person capable of turning them human.
The woman pulls back slightly, her hands lingering on his chest as if she needs another moment to confirm he’s really fine.
Then her attention shifts, her gaze moving to me.
For a second she simply studies me, taking in the disheveled state of my hair, the oversized sleepshirt hanging off my frame and my bare feet tucked awkwardly beneath me on the couch.
When she glances back at him, something silent passes between them. It’s a quick flicker of understanding that seems to carry far more meaning than I’m privy to. His eyes move to me briefly before returning to her, a small nod confirming whatever silent question she has.
The woman turns back toward me and steps closer, her movements calm and unhurried. When she reaches the couch, she extends her hand toward me. “I’m Alina. Sasha’s wife.”
I blink once in mild surprise before leaning forward and slipping my hand into hers. “Katerina. It’s nice to meet you. Though…” I glance briefly down at my sleep shirt before meeting her eyes again. “I wish it could be under better conditions.”
A sympathetic expression softens her face immediately. She squeezes my hand gently before letting it go. “You must be freezing. Let me get you something warmer to wear.”
The kindness in her voice catches me off guard. These men might all be wolves, but apparently, at least one of them married something closer to a dove. But before she can take more than a step, the man—Sasha—reaches out and catches her by the shoulders.
His hands settle there firmly, thumbs brushing lightly over the soft fabric of her sweater. He shakes his head once. “Sit.”
She looks mildly confused as he steers her down beside me.
“I’ll get them for her,” he adds. “Keep her company in the meantime.”
Alina tilts her head up toward him, a smile blooming across her face so bright, it almost seems to light the room. “Thank you.”
He brushes a quick kiss against her temple before stepping away and disappearing out of the room.
The silence that follows is brief.
I stare after him for a moment, then turn slowly back to Alina. “Huh…”
She tilts her head slightly, studying me with curious eyes. “Something the matter?”
Instead of answering right away, I shift on the couch so I’m facing her fully. The fire crackles quietly in the hearth beside us, its warmth sinking deeper into my skin now that I’ve been sitting here a few minutes.
Golden light flickers across the room.
It feels strange to finally be inside a place that feels…
safe. A fortress that isn’t my father’s.
But even that comfort can’t quite untie the knot forming slowly in my stomach.
Aleksandr isn’t here and I can’t stop wondering why.
Either he doesn’t want to see me or something has happened that’s bad enough to keep him from coming.
Both possibilities make me feel sick.
Alina’s voice breaks gently through my thoughts. “I was relieved when I heard you were staying with Aleksandr.”
I blink, my attention snapping back to her.
She’s watching the fire now, fingers loosely intertwined in her lap. “I was… hoping maybe it meant I’d finally have a friend who understands.”
“Understands what?” I ask, though I already have a suspicion.
Her eyes flick back to mine. “What it means to love someone bound to the Iron Pact.”
The Iron Pact.
So that’s what they call themselves.
The name fits.
Alina lifts one hand and gestures vaguely through the air before letting out a laugh that sounds lighter than it feels. “There’s… a lot that comes with it.”
I notice the small pinch forming between her brows, the uncertainty flickering in her expression.
“Being on the outside of it can be overwhelming,” she continues quietly. “The waiting. The not knowing.” Her gaze drifts toward the doorway Sasha disappeared through. “The nights you lie awake wondering if every goodbye might be the last one.”
My brow pulls together slightly.
“The fear,” she goes on, voice steady but softer now, “that one day, he’ll walk out the door and simply… never walk back in.”
There’s a tremor beneath her words that is small, almost invisible. But I recognize it immediately. I can’t say I’m surprised to hear being with someone involved in the Iron Pact comes with that kind of constant worry.
So far, I haven’t had to face any of that.
My time with Aleksandr has been… something else entirely.
Antagonism that burned into something hotter.
Danger that turned into passion and obsession.
Between spying on him and falling for him, I never had time to sit down and consider what a future with him might actually look like.
Now that Alina has said it out loud, though… the thought settles heavily in my chest.
Can I handle loving a man who might walk out the door one day and never come back?
Alina suddenly laughs nervously, shaking her head. “I’m so sorry. I don’t mean to dump all of this on you. We just met. I shouldn’t be freaking you out.”
“It’s okay,” I tell her honestly. Then I sigh. “Honestly, I hadn’t thought about it.”
Her eyes lift back to me, her head tilting slightly in a silent gesture for me to continue.
I suck in a breathe before blowing it out quickly. “I was so consumed with trying to take him down that the rest of my future didn’t really occur to me.”
Her head tilts slightly. “Take… him down?”
“Yeah,” I mumble. The guilt twists deeper in my stomach now that I’m saying it out loud. “My father told me Aleksandr was a threat to national security and needed to be taken down from the inside.”