Chapter 4 - Kliment
She did not look scared. Not one bit.
Most people did when they realized how close they had come to dying after a gun had been pressed against their temple. They either broke down, blustered, or filled the space with panic or denial, trying to reclaim control over something that had already slipped through their fingers.
Misha Chernykh did none of that. Instead, she held my gaze as if she were trying to figure me out in a way that allowed her to look through my very soul.
Her sharp blue eyes only made it look easier for her.
Even now, when she was bleeding and unsteady, and her body was already beginning to register the full extent of the damage that had been done to it, she did not look away once.
There was no gratitude in her eyes yet, but there wasn’t fear or relief either.
Only awareness. Sharp, calculated awareness, which I had come to realize was her statement expression.
But today, there was something sharper beneath it which almost looked like defiance.
I felt it settle into me in a way that was both unexpected and inconvenient.
Up close, she was not what I had anticipated.
I had seen her from a distance for weeks while I had studied her patterns and analyzed her movements.
I had cataloged her as a variable because she seemed useful, unpredictable, and worth observing before eliminating.
But distance had flattened her. It had not accounted for this.
Her hair had come loose from whatever restraint she had forced it into earlier, dark strands that were streaked faintly with blood now clinging to her face.
Her skin was pale beneath the warehouse lighting and was now marred by a thin smear across her cheek that only made the sharpness of her features even more pronounced.
Her blue eyes were clear, focused, and entirely present despite the pain she was clearly suffering.
They were locked onto mine with a steadiness that most men twice her size failed to maintain.
She was beautiful. No one in their right mind could deny it. The thought was immediate and unwelcome, and I ignored it as quickly as it had come to me.
“You’re bleeding,” I said instead.
Her lips curved slightly, humor flickering in a place where it did not belong. “I noticed.”
I shifted my grip on her instinctively as her weight faltered again.
Her injured foot gave out the second time she tried to stabilize herself, but this time, I did not wait for her to compensate.
I moved before she could shirk away from my touch.
If she could shirk away from my touch. I slid one arm behind her back and the other under her knees, lifting her cleanly off the ground before she could protest. She inhaled sharply, the sound cutting through the quiet.
“I can walk,” she said.
“No, you can’t.”
“I was doing fine before you decided to interfere.”
“You were seconds away from being shot in the head, if you had noticed.”
“That doesn’t mean I need to be carried right now.”
“But it does mean you are in no position to argue with your savior right now.”
She stilled for half a second, her fingers tightening slightly against my coat as her body adjusted to the sudden shift in position.
“I am not arguing,” she sighed. “I’m stating a preference. I hate being carried like a child.”
I glanced down at her briefly.
“And for now, I am choosing to ignore your preference because we don’t know the amount of damage that has been caused to your leg.”
That earned me the faintest flicker of something in her eyes.
It was not anger but recognition instead. Recognition of authority and a realization of who was in power.
Good.
She understood.
Behind us, Viktor’s voice cut through the silence. I had almost forgotten he was there, too.
“The perimeter’s clear, boss.”
I didn’t turn.
“Anyone else around? Have you checked properly?” I asked.
“There is no movement,” he replied. “The warehouse has two exits only, and both of them are covered. There are no witnesses.”
“Good.”
I started toward the exit without another word, adjusting my hold on her as I moved.
Her blood had already soaked through the fabric at her side, warm against my hand and spreading steadily.
I already knew it was not arterial, or else she would have been unconscious by now.
But it didn’t mean it was insignificant either.
“How awful do you feel?” I asked.
“I have felt worse,” she replied.
That was not an answer. I looked down at her again, this time more deliberately.
From the surface, I could guess that the entry wound was along her side.
It was clean, and the blood loss was moderate and manageable if addressed quickly.
The graze along her arm had already slowed.
There would likely be bruising along her ribs, but only from impact and not a fracture.
She wouldn’t have been able to breathe otherwise.
When she shifted slightly in my arms, I saw her foot. I could see the subtle misalignment and the tension in the muscle as she tried to shift her weight away from me and onto her own self.
“Sprain in the leg?” I asked.
“I could also be a fracture. I am not sure.”
“You didn’t hesitate walking on it when it happened.”
“I didn’t have time to hesitate if I wanted to stay alive.”
Viktor stepped in front of us as we reached the warehouse doors, the car waiting just up ahead. We had driven forward the moment the first gunshot had been fired, and later gunshots had given me enough reason to barge in and assess the situation for myself.
“We should inform Nico,” Viktor said quietly, concern brimming in his gaze. “And Jarek. We don’t know who these men are, and if this ties back to something larger, we will need the entire force.”
“No.”
The word was immediate and final, and Viktor paused at once.
“This wasn’t sanctioned,” I continued, my tone even. “It doesn’t become their concern now. This will stay between us. Make sure no one else finds out.”
“But she is a Chernykh,” he said carefully.
“I am aware.”
He held my gaze for a second longer than necessary, but then nodded once. The best thing about Viktor was that he understood. He always did.
“This will stay contained,” I added.
“Yes, boss.”
I moved past him without another word, stepping out into the night air.
I could sense that Misha Chernykh was quietly assessing the situation and analyzing the conversation, but she stayed silent, her eyes steadily trained on me.
The shift from the enclosed warehouse to the open docks was immediate, and the wind grew sharper and colder, carrying the scent of salt and metal in it.
She shifted slightly in my arms, adjusting her position.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked.
“Somewhere you won’t bleed out to death, hopefully.”
“That is reassuring.”
She went quiet after that, her head tilting back just slightly as if she was conserving energy rather than losing it.
But I could feel the tension in her body and the way she refused to fully relax into my hold.
Misha Chernykh was still as alert as she had been when she left her house.
Despite her nearly paralyzing injuries, I could sense her thinking and calculating as if her mind never stopped working, no matter what went down.
I admired that because I was the exact same person.
By the time we reached the SUV, Viktor already had the back door open for us.
I slid her inside carefully, keeping one hand steady at her side as I adjusted her position against the seat.
She was already in a lot of pain, and I had no desire to make it worse for her.
It was true I wanted to kill her, but this was not how I treated my enemies.
“Try to stay awake,” I said.
She huffed a quiet breath and muttered sarcastically. “Oh no, I was totally planning on taking a nap.”
I rolled my eyes at her and shut the door, moving around to the other side as I slid in beside her.
“Drive,” I told Viktor as soon as he was behind the wheel.
The sooner we could get her to a safe place, the sooner her wounds could be treated. The engine turned over instantly, the vehicle pulling away from the docks without hesitation. For a few minutes, there was only silence, but I could still feel her watching me.
Even now. Even like this.
“You were following me earlier today, weren’t you?” she asked, already sure of her answer.
“I might have been.” There was no point in lying to her. She was too smart to fall for it.
“You are a Romanov.”
It wasn’t a question. I turned my head slightly and looked at her, a small smile tugging at the end of my lips. I hadn’t expected her to not find out, but I didn’t know she would come to this conclusion so quickly.
“And you’re observant,” I replied.
Her gaze didn’t waver. “You’re Kliment Romanov.”
There was no hesitation or uncertainty in the way she uttered my name. I studied her for a moment before nodding, realizing I had been holding my breath.
“Most people don’t say it that calmly,” I said.
“I’m not most people.”
“No,” I said, looking directly into her eyes. “You’re not.”
“Thank you,” she said.
The words landed differently than I expected. They were not soft or emotional but had a controlled feel to them. But what caught me off guard was how genuine they seemed. It was not the gratitude itself but the way she presented it to me.
“For what?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.
“For saving my life in there.”
“I didn’t do it for you,” I said.
“I didn’t say you did.”
“Then don’t thank me.”
“I will,” she replied evenly. “Because regardless of your reasons, you still saved my life.”
Her eyes held mine.
“I don’t like owing people,” she added. “Especially not you. Not a Romanov.”
“And yet,” I said.
“And yet,” she echoed.
Her lips curved faintly, but there was no softness in it.
“I still despise you,” she continued. “That hasn’t changed. That will never change.”
“I wouldn’t expect it to.”