Abby
When my guards finally file out of the safe room one by one, I know he’s finally come.
Access to my phone afforded me a chance to call Ellie, who explained what she knew through tears.
Although there were aspects of the operation she wasn’t privy to, of course, the gist of it was there and wasn’t a surprise.
Misha, Nikki, and the gang were coming to my rescue.
The brief, all-encompassing thankfulness I felt, knowing that my love and my friend were coming for me, was snuffed out immediately by terror.
They were flying onto Conor’s turf and, according to Ellie, not just planning on getting me out but also all the other girls.
As soon as I heard, I fell into the grips of nauseous mania, then catatonia, then hysteria—waiting to see if I had led the people I love into a slaughter.
Now, relief floods my soul as the only man who could have ordered the guards out gently closes the door behind him and locks it with finality.
He doesn’t look like he’s injured or winded at all.
He looks glorious. Decked out in head-to-toe black, pants tucked into combat boots and his hair and beard longer than I’ve ever seen them, as if he hasn’t had a single thought since I left that wasn’t related to getting to me.
I’m sure I’m a sight, sitting hunched in the middle of the king-size bed.
Whatever hotel they’ve rented out has excellent linens, and I turned the thermostat down to sixty-five as soon as I was dropped off and requested extra blankets.
Now, after more showers and baths than I can count, my nest is fully fledged.
Exhausted, stressed, relieved, happy, terrified…
I’m not sure what he can read on my face.
I hope he can tell that I love him. I’m not sure I retain the ability to speak.
Misha makes no move to come to me, and I slowly lower the comforter that was serving as my hood to look less like a gremlin and more inviting.
Before I can consider any further that I must look atrocious, I realize the love of my life is crying.
Tears stream down his face, wetting his beard, and in an instant, he’s sobbing.
As soon as I hold out my hand, begging him to let me comfort him, he’s across the room in a flash.
Head in my lap, he wraps his arms around me tightly but gently, like I’m precious but fragile.
Before, I might have agreed only that I was the latter.
Now, I know I’m cherished as the former.
But I’ve survived enough to be self-assured that I’m not fucking fragile.
He’s heaving now, and if I can’t calm him down, he’s going to pass out.
“Misha, my darling,” I whisper. “I’m okay. Is something wrong? Did someone get hurt?”
He shakes his head with a sniffle, tears starting to slow, and I scratch his scalp. Still, he hasn’t pulled his head from my lap and hasn’t released his iron grip from around me. If anything, he’s incrementally tightening, like I won’t notice if he does it slowly enough.
“Moya lyubov—”
That does it, and he sits up instantly, face reddened with the force of his tears and incredulous at my new skill. I can’t help but laugh lightly as I push the luscious hair I’ve missed so much out of his face.
“Don’t be too impressed. That’s all I know. But I hope to learn more. In the future, you know. You speak so many languages, and we’ll want the kids to be multilingual too…”
He interrupts me with a quick but tender encroachment of my space, coming within half an inch of my lips and pleading with his gaze for permission to kiss me. His eyes flicker to my lips and back like a man who’s found an oasis in the desert but refuses to partake unless he knows it’s freely given.
Answering his question by bridging the gap between us, I swallow his gasp like the benediction it is.
He never deepens it, kissing me once, twice, three times before pulling back to press his forehead to mine.
The reverence in his touch, as he tenderly cups my cheeks, brings tears to my eyes, and finally he speaks.
“Everyone is fine,” he whispers. “Except me. I mean, physically, I’m fine. I’m sorry for saying it like that…I don’t really know what I’m saying. I just…”
Tears well again, and I can see he’s on the threshold of another breakdown.
“I’m so sorry, Abby. I had no idea, and now you’re here being strong while I fall apart, and—”
“Misha, you’ve been plenty strong. Don’t judge your acute reaction to my trauma by my chronic tolerance. Can you do something for me?”
“Anything.” He sniffles.
“Can you go take a shower, then come cuddle with me? I haven’t been sleeping well without you, and I’ve been leaving all the lights on because I don’t feel safe.”
Now it’s my turn to sniffle, and he immediately stifles his own struggles to address mine, but I wave him off.
“You’re here. I’m safe. I know we have lots to talk about, but please…Let’s rest first.”
With a look that says he doesn’t want to leave me but will always do whatever I ask of him, he kisses the top of my head and moves toward the bathroom.
The visual of him peeling off his shirt, revealing the powerful, ink-covered back I know so well, causes a welcome warmth to spread from deep within me.
Grateful that nothing has changed about my desire for this man after having so much of my trauma thrown in my face recently, I deconstruct my nest and make the bed.
By the time Misha finishes in the shower and returns to me, thick cock resting against his thigh as he crosses the room and joins me in bed, I’m more content than ever.
When he pulls me into his arms, it doesn’t take long at all for me to fall asleep to the beat of my love’s heart, and the soothing stories he’s murmuring into my curls.
The language may be one I don’t speak, but I know what he’s saying all the same.
We’re safe.
“I don’t want to tell you anything until I know how you are. If you don’t want to talk about it, I understand—”
“I’m okay to talk about it. I think.”
I’ve finished an entire plate of pancakes this morning, although they weren’t as good as Misha’s, and now, as we sit on the bed, I know we need to talk.
I still have questions about what happened.
Misha now knows the full extent of my past, as embarrassing as it is.
With a deep breath, he starts, and the pain in his eyes is palpable.
“I don’t know how to tell you how sorry I am, Abby. You’re so strong, but I hate that you’ve had to be. If I had known—”
“I don’t think you could have done anything differently.”
“I would have had guards on you 24/7 or chained you to my bed so you could never leave,” he finishes with a wink. “I love you. I love you so much, and I just need you to know that I’ll be by your side for as long as you’ll have me. If you won’t have me, I suppose I’ll be ten feet behind you.”
“No way you give me ten feet.”
“You’re right,” he says with a laugh. “Likely five feet max.”
He plays with my fingers, and I try to start unpacking my feelings about the reality of Conor’s life.
“I didn’t know about the trafficking,” I say quietly.
“Which is stupid, looking back on it, because what he was doing to me was trafficking in and of itself. I’m sorry you had to find out that way and not from me.
I just had no clue how to even broach that subject, and it’s a disgusting thing to live with, let alone tell the man you love. ”
“He’s the disgusting one, not you. You’re a warrior.”
“There were hundreds of men, Misha. Maybe more. I wasn’t even conscious for so much of it that it was probably thousands. How is that not disgusting to you?”
His kiss on my knuckles is tender but insistent, and it’s a miracle I’m somehow holding back my tears. Perhaps I’ve just cried them all out already.
“You’re the most precious, perfect creature in the world to me, lesnaya. I knew it the first time I saw you on the ice.”
At that, I raise an eyebrow.
“Are you insinuating that you loved me at first sight, Misha Mavrin?”
“I’m not insinuating. I’m declaring. You have no idea, Abby Mavrin.”
He tickles me when I roll my eyes, and I find falling back into our normal rhythm together as simple as breathing.
“Don’t roll your eyes. It’ll be true sooner rather than later.”
“There’s the unfortunate fact that I am still married to the scum of the earth.” I sigh.
At this, he brightens, a mischievous twinkle in his eye warning me that whatever’s coming can’t be good.
“About that.”
“I have to ask you two questions, and I can’t answer any of your follow-up questions.”
“I hate that.”
“I’m sorry, darling. Do you accept my terms?”
Standing in the musty lobby of an old theater, I’m not sure I have any choice. Misha’s mostly relaxed but with the energy of someone about to watch a person unwrap their biggest Christmas present of the year. His excitement is infectious, and I know he’d never do anything to upset me, so I agree.
“I do.”
He growls at that, earning a playful slap on the arm.
“Behave.”
“How am I supposed to behave when you’re talking dirty to me in public?”
I make a show of craning my neck back and forth, dramatically noting the empty building.
“I don’t see anyone,” I tease, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth and earning another growl.
“If time wasn’t of the essence to give you your present, I would take you to the ground right now and make you regret your sass, Miss Reid.”
Oh shit, he Miss Reid’d me.
“Since you agreed, I’ll ask my questions. First, how do you feel about ruthless revenge?”
Well, that’s easy.
“In vehement favor. Next question.”
“Does in-person, violent gore bother you, including but not limited to whole or partial corpses in large quantities?”
A few minutes later, wearing a respirator and standing on the corner of the theater’s stage, I finally think of something to say.
“Wow.”
Eloquent, Abby. Misha stands a few feet away, hands in his pockets, trying so hard not to ask what I think.
“You weren’t kidding.”
He laughs at that, moving closer to put his arm around me.
“I wasn’t.”
“How many?”
“All of them.”
That shocks me, and I snap my gaze to his.
“All?”
“One hundred thirty-one. All of Conor’s men plus any known associates who were in my kill radius for this trip.
I have facial recognition software combing through every single one of Conor’s hard drives for any man who so much as sniffed working with him or touching you, and those lists will be dealt with swiftly.
All forms of media containing you have already been blacked out. Not a shred of that exists anymore.”
“Misha—”
“They can’t be allowed to live, Abby. Not a single one who ever hurt you. I’m not saying it’s right or moral…I’m not saying I’ll always be the one to pull the trigger, but none of them can continue while I walk the earth. Please don’t try to stop me.”
This man. This fucking man.
“I wasn’t—”
“I’ve already messaged Ellie about setting up something for all the women who were with you, and we’re also tracking all the previously sold women we can to extract them and exterminate their buyers.
She said someone named Sandy has already been helpful, and they’ve got tons of ideas. They can’t wait for you to get back.”
“That sounds—”
“But nobody is going to rush you, baby. I think we could both use a vacation, I was thinking Italy, and—”
“Misha!”
He finally stops rambling and looks at me timidly, like he’s afraid I’m going to chastise him for killing the worst men on the planet, helping eradicate even more, dedicating resources to support women who have been through hell like me or taking me on vacation.
“All of that sounds amazing. But I have one suggestion before we do any of that.”
“Anything, lesnaya. Anything, and it’s yours.”
“I’d like to introduce you to my parents.”