30. Wolff
Ninety seconds.
The duffel hits the bed, and I rip it open, hands moving before my head can catch up—guns, mags, clothes, whatever the fuck I can grab, it all gets shoved in without thinking.
Everything feels too slow.
My pulse is still wrong. Not from the threat—from AJ. From what she said. I shake the thought off hard enough that it almost makes me dizzy, then I’m back to stuffing the bag, forcing my hands to keep moving.
Sixty seconds.
AJ’s scrambling, dragging clothes onto her body, boots half-laced, fingers shaking so bad she can barely get them through.
“Wolff, what’s going on?”
I don’t have the space for this. Not now. Not with that fucking thought still clawing at the back of my skull.
Thirty seconds.
I throw the duffel over my shoulder and grab the edge of the bed, tipping it to reveal the trapdoor underneath. Grabbing her by the waist, I drop her through it.
“Wolff!”
I go down after her, slamming the door shut above us just as the front door upstairs explodes open, the wood splintering.
The tunnel is narrow and black, with old, rusted metal walls smelling of mildew and oil.
“What’s happening? Why are we—” she rambles, officially freaking out.
My hand clamps over her mouth, and I haul her back into me.
“Quiet.”
Raising my other arm, gun aimed toward the ceiling, every muscle in my body locks. Russian voices echo from above. Her body goes rigid against mine, shaking, breath hot against my palm, and for one split second, it hits again—
She didn’t stop me.
I feel like I could be sick. Not now.
I shove it down.
Focus.
I jerk my head forward as I release her, motioning for her to move.
She stumbles ahead, boots barely making a sound as we push through the narrow tunnel. My hand grips her shoulder, guiding, forcing speed, while every part of me tracks the noises behind us.
The door at the end of the tunnel comes into view. I surge forward, wrench it open, shoving her through ahead of me. Then I slam it shut, locking it, jamming the metal bar into place with a sharp clang.
We’re in a small garage. Dark concrete floor. An armored black Range Rover is parked in the center.
“Get in.” I toss the duffel into the back seat, and she rushes to the passenger side. I slide behind the wheel, already hitting the switch.
The hidden garage door groans open slowly. Everything is too fucking slow. I slam my foot down the second there’s space—and we’re gone. Tires squeal as I take the corner hard. Headlights flood the street ahead. My gut tightens. Shit.
AJ’s gasp is sharp as I yank the wheel in the other direction, turning into the oncoming traffic. Horns blare around us. Metal screeches somewhere too close.
I don’t slow down.
“Wolff!” she screams.
I block out the sound. Nothing matters except the road in front of me.
My side tears with every movement, stitches pulling taut and uncomfortable. I ignore it. Same way I ignore everything else nagging at the back of my head. We have to leave this fucking country. The closest port is the only option.
“Seatbelt. Now.”
She complies without hesitation, and my foot presses harder on the gas. The engine roars, the needle climbing as I cut between cars.
“What’s happening!?” she cries out, holding on to the door and the seat.
“The Nightshades found us.”
Her hands fly to her mouth, and she jerks forward. “How? How did they—”
I cut across two lanes, tires sliding on ice. A truck swerves, missing us by inches.
“We’re going to the port. Tonight. No stops. No questions. You stay quiet. You do exactly what I say.”
Her wide, panicked eyes dart to me. “Wolff, I— What if they catch me…”
I yank the wheel again, taking a narrow side street at full speed. I see it the second it starts—the way her focus fractures into tormenting flashbacks.
“Wolff…no…no— I can’t go back… I can’t—”
Fuck.
Not now.
I reach across, my hand locking around her shoulder. “Listen to me. We’re not getting caught. If you follow—”
She’s already gone. Her eyes glazed over, her breaths breaking apart in rapid bursts.
“Solnyshko.” I grab her chin and force her to look at me. “Look at me.”
Her gaze flickers, barely there.
“Stay with me.”
Her breath stutters, chest hitching as she starts trembling. And something in me snaps.
“No one is taking you from me.” I won’t let them touch you again.
Unlocking her seatbelt, I drag her across the console and into my lap, ignoring the way my side twinges.
“Here.” I take her small hand and press it flat against my chest. “Feel that.” My heartbeat slams powerfully under her palm. “Feel my heart. Just breathe.”
My arm wraps tight around her waist, holding her in place while I steer one-handed, the wheel jerking under my grip as I push the SUV faster. Her fingers curl into my shirt, clutching, her face burying into my chest. Her shaking doesn’t stop. It just shifts, moving through me.
I feel all of it—every tremor, every uneven breath, every inch of her pressed against me—and I don’t pull away.
“Keep breathing.” I speak against her hair, inhaling deeply. She smells like sex and me. “Don’t think. Just—stay here.”
With me.
My hold tightens.
The engine roars louder as I push the speed higher, weaving through traffic, ice kicking up under the tires.
We’re not stopping.
We’re not slowing down.
And no one is taking her from me.
His heartbeat is hard against my palm, my fingers twisted in his shirt. I don’t know how long we’ve been driving. My breathing evened out a while ago. The panic passed. But he hasn’t let me go.
I shift just enough to see his face. His jaw is locked tight, gaze fixed on the road. Tears burn behind my eyes, and I let my head fall back against his chest, closing them.
Everything hurts.
My body. My head. My ass is throbbing, a cruel reminder of how fucked up I am. How disgusting and ruined I’ve become.
I want to talk to him, to explain, but I don’t know how.
What do I say? That being used by him feels better than being nothing to him?
The thought makes my stomach churn.
I would rather he ruin me than look at me like I’m invisible.
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to push the thoughts away. But they just keep coming. I can still feel the stretch of my ass, the way his hands held me down, the way he spoke to me—like I was just a hole to fuck. But that look on his face after…
That was—
I swallow roughly.
I’ve never seen him look like that before. Almost…human.
The car jerks, snapping my eyes open. Through the darkness, I see bright lights up ahead—big, glowing signs, shipping containers stacked high in the distance. I can’t read the signs, but the military presence is noticeable.
“We’re here.” His grip on my hip tightens just slightly.
The car slows, weaving through trucks and metal structures, engines rumbling around us.
“We go through customs. Then we board. Stay near me the whole time.”
He parks in a shadowed corner and cuts the engine. For a moment, neither of us moves. My chest tightens, fear slipping back in, my heart racing.
“Wolff…what are— How do we pretend to be married?”
“I’ll do the talking. Once we’re on the ship, we don’t leave the cabin.”
I nod, even though nothing about that makes me feel better. His hand slides from my hip, brushing my thigh as he reaches for the door. I let go of his shirt and sit up, and the loss of him hits instantly.
“Wolff…I—” I stare up at him as his green eyes scan my face. “I’m really fucking scared. I just— I don’t know how we’re—”
His thumb drags across my cheek, catching a tear I didn’t even realize fell. Tilting my chin, he crashes his mouth into mine, stealing the air from my lungs. His other hand tangles in my hair, pulling me closer, his tongue pushing past my lips, owning my mouth.
For half a second, I freeze.
Then I’m kissing him back just as hard. My hands grab his jacket, fists clenching, pulling him in like I’m trying to anchor myself to something real.
Everything spins.
My head. My chest. When he pulls back, it’s abrupt. Like he forced himself to. His forehead presses to mine, both of us breathing harshly.
“I thought you don’t kiss…” I whisper as our lips graze, his beard rough against my skin.
His eyes move over my face, and for a second, something slips. I’ve never seen him look like this… Softer…
“I don’t…” He kisses me again, slower, deeper, his thumb stroking my jaw. “But husbands kiss their wives.”
My heart pounds against my ribs.
“I’m getting you home, AJ. I promise.”
He pulls back, his eyes holding mine for a second longer. Then he releases me, opening the door and guiding us out into the cold night. He rummages through the duffel bags he packed, removing the guns.
“What are you going to do if we need those?” I watch him stash them under the back seat. “If you can’t bring—”
“I don’t need a gun to kill someone.”