Chapter 18
ANDREI
For a few seconds, I can’t move. I collapse on top of her, still inside of her, my body locked in the last echoes of release, my pulse pounding so hard it drowns out every other sound in the room.
Heat lingers between us, sharp and consuming, and the word that nearly escaped me presses violently against the back of my teeth.
Mine.
The instinct is so sudden, so primitive, that it almost feels separate from conscious thought. I feel a need to possess her, to mark her as my own. It’s not the first time, but it feels far more tangible than it did before.
I force my breathing to slow before the feeling can take root. I roll off of her finally, lying far enough away that I’m not touching her and staring up at the ceiling to gain control of my thoughts.
This is exactly how men lose perspective.
This is how they end up making mistakes that cost lives.
The love of a good woman—no, the lust of a good woman can bring men to their knees.
I’m clearly already there. I would give her my entire empire if she asked me for it.
I would burn the world down for her if she gave the order.
Alina’s fingers slide weakly along my shoulder as she tries to catch her breath beside me, her skin still flushed, her body soft and open in a way that pulls at something deep in my chest. She looks dazed, overwhelmed, completely unguarded.
For a brief, reckless instant, it feels like the rest of the world has fallen away and nothing exists outside this bed.
That illusion shatters the moment my mind clears. The danger surrounding us doesn’t just go away because we want it to. Time is still passing around us, and Kostya is still out there, waiting for her, hoping to pounce when the moment presents itself. I have to make sure that it never does.
She exhales slowly, eyes half-closed, still floating somewhere between pleasure and exhaustion.
She turns her head to look at me, with a quiet, unprotected expression of trust. She isn’t afraid of me.
She isn’t intimidated. She trusts me to bring her incredible pleasure. She also trusts me to keep her safe.
That isn’t a responsibility I can take lightly. As much as I long to be near her, to possess her with this primal urge, it doesn’t take away from the fact that I can’t protect her if I’m so distracted by her.
I withdraw from her and sit back on the edge of the mattress, dragging a hand down my face as cold air replaces the heat between us. The distance feels immediate and necessary, even if part of me resents it.
Behind me, she turns onto her side, curling instinctively toward the warmth I just left. Within seconds, her breathing begins to slow again, exhaustion pulling her under. I envy how quickly she can fall asleep. I’ve barely gotten a full night’s rest since the night I met her.
I watch her longer than I should, wishing I could just sink down beside her and block out the world. I wish I could disappear into the moment and forget that our lives are in danger.
Yet I know that emotion is dangerous. Attachment is worse. Both make men vulnerable, and vulnerability gets you killed in my world. Whether Kostya or some other faceless threat is trying to end me, I can’t afford even a moment of vulnerability.
With her, I’ve allowed myself many such moments.
I’ve given myself permission to pretend that we can be something that we can never be.
At least, not until I’ve neutralized this threat.
After that, our future has to be up to her.
I already know that I would throw everything I’ve built away if she asked me to.
That makes her more dangerous to me than Kostya could ever hope to be.
I stand and dress in silence, moving carefully so I don’t wake her. Each motion feels deliberate, controlled, like putting armor back on after briefly setting it aside. By the time I button my shirt, the softness of the moment has already begun to harden into something colder.
This is who I really am. Not the man in that bed. Not the man who wants every part of her. I slip out of the room, leaving her to her unburdened rest.
When I get back to the living area, my phone is vibrating on the table. The sound slices through the quiet like a blade. There’s no telling how many calls I’ve missed while I let her distract me.
I glance once toward her bedroom door, wishing for just one more moment that I could be there with her, blocking out everything else. That isn’t my lot in life, though. It’s a luxury that no amount of money will ever afford me.
“Talk,” I demand into the phone without even checking to see who’s calling.
Petya’s voice comes through immediately, low and focused.
“We’re monitoring some movement,” he says at once. “We think it’s our guy.”
Every muscle in my body tightens at once. The shift is instant and complete.
“Where?”
“We got a hit from train station surveillance that picked up Belov and his father yesterday afternoon,” he says. “They boarded a train heading west. Our facial recognition has confirmed it.”
I lean against the kitchen chair, letting the information settle. Kostya is running away. It’s the obvious move. The safe move. It’s a move a guilty man makes when he knows retaliation is coming.
It also feels too convenient. He hasn’t surfaced in a month, and now he’s being picked up on security footage getting on a train?
It doesn’t make sense. It feeds into the theory of a mole.
He must know that we’re closing in on him.
More likely, though, this is a ruse to lure us into a false sense of safety.
“He’s clearly running scared,” Petya continues. “If he thinks you’re coming for him, leaving the city makes sense.”
“Or,” I say quietly, “he simply wants us to think that.”
Silence hums on the line for a beat.
“You think he’s baiting us.”
“I do,” I confirm. “Kostya is reckless, but he isn’t stupid. If he truly wants to disappear, he’d never let us get this footage.”
It all feels staged and deliberate, designed to pull attention in one direction while something else moves unseen. Which means the real threat may still be in the city, waiting for me to let down my guard.
“What do you want to do?” Petya asks. “We can keep you rotating in safehouses until we’re sure we caught the guy, or we can bring you out and see if that gets him to move.”
I push away from the table and begin pacing the length of the room, energy coiling tight beneath my ribs. Standing still feels impossible now. My mind is already moving three steps ahead, mapping outcomes, calculating risk.
“We stop reacting,” I say. “We choose solid ground.”
“You want to draw him out.”
“Yes.”
I know this is the right call. I can’t keep running forever. My enemies may start to think I’m cowardly and scared. That couldn’t be further from the truth. We’ve tried playing it safe for a month without any solid result. It’s time to go on the offensive.
“What do you want to do about the girl?” he asks.
My jaw tightens before I can stop it. This is where the plan gets a little trickier. If I’m going to draw him out, I have to risk my own safety. I may also have to risk hers. I hate the thought of it, but it may be my only move.
“She stays protected,” I say firmly. “That’s the most important thing. We want to draw him out, but she can’t get hurt in any way.”
“Should we keep her at a separate location?”
“Only temporarily,” I say, formulating a plan. “He needs to think she’s away from my protection. That’s the only way he’ll come back to the city.”
The answer is automatic and strategic, but I hate how easy it is for me to agree to putting her away from me. This isn’t what I want. It feels wrong in a way I don’t have time to analyze.
Petya accepts it without comment.
“We’ll double the security around her place and make sure that someone can get to her in ten seconds or less. How many men do you want on her detail?”
“As many as we can spare,” I say. “More than are on me, if necessary. Her safety is our top priority.”
“What do you want us to with Belov if we find him?” he presses.
I stop pacing.
“We let him believe he’s ahead,” I say. “We do nothing. Lure him into a false sense of security so he takes the bait.”
Understanding settles into his silence.
“Then what?”
I look toward the closed bedroom door. After that, this ends.
“Then we make him pay,” I say.
The meaning is clear. The only way he possibly can pay is in blood.
“Yes, Pakhan.”
The line goes dead.
For a moment, I stand alone in the dim room, listening to the quiet hum of the building and the distant night beyond it. Everything has shifted. Whatever fragile illusion existed an hour ago is gone.
War has a way of doing that. I move back to the bedroom doorway and open it just enough to look inside. Alina is still sleeping peacefully, with no idea what I’ve just done.