Chapter 7 #2
His jaw softens, the hard line easing by millimeters. The shift is subtle but noticeable, pure determination giving way to the faintest trace of understanding. “Then trust me.”
Those two words strike with more force than anything else he’s said.
Trust him. Trust the man whose world I'm drowning in, whose enemies want me dead, and whose protection feels like a cage even when I know he means well.
Trust him when Ray is watching every move I make through whatever invisible wire he has around my neck.
Trust him when Hope's life depends on me playing Ray's game exactly the way he wants.
I can't. Not with this. Not with Ray watching everything. Not when one wrong move could mean Hope dies and I never see her again. The knowledge drapes over my shoulders, dragging at my spine until holding myself straight takes real effort.
“I need to breathe.” The words come out strangled. My lungs refuse to expand fully, each inhale stopping halfway before releasing. “I need a minute.”
He watches me with an intensity that pulls the room tighter around us, the space shrinking until it feels like the walls might close in completely.
But he lets me walk past him, stepping aside just enough that I don't have to squeeze by.
His heat radiates toward me even from this small distance, warming the air between our bodies.
I step into the bathroom and close the door, pressing my back against it until my knees nearly buckle from the rush of panic clawing through my chest. The wood is solid against my spine, its coolness helping me find my balance.
My hands fumble for my phone on the counter, my fingers slipping before I finally get a grip.
The device feels too heavy in my palm, weighed down by all the terrible choices I’m being forced to make.
I grip it so tightly my fingers hurt. My reflection in the mirror looks pale and frantic, like a version of myself stuck between choices that only lead to more pain. Dark circles shadow my eyes, making them look sunken. My lips are pressed into a thin, colorless line.
I exhale shakily. My breath fogs the mirror slightly before dissipating. I open the message thread with the blocked number, my thumb hovering over the keyboard for a long moment before I start typing. Each letter feels like a commitment, another step down a path I can't reverse.
I did what you asked. The files are on the way. I need proof she's alive before Luka forces me to Seattle. I won't get another chance to do this if you don't tell me what comes next.
My thumb hovers over the send button while my pulse hammers in my throat. I can hear my own breathing, harsh and uneven, echoing off the bathroom tiles. I add one more line, my fingers shaking so badly I have to correct several typos before the message is legible.
Please. Just tell me where she is.
I hit send before I can second-guess myself again. The message slides upward on the screen, the blue bubble appearing beneath all our previous exchanges. The reply arrives before I can inhale again, the notification banner dropping down from the top of my screen with a soft chime.
Hope doesn't need your panic. She needs your obedience.
My breath leaves me in a broken rush, punching out of my lungs like I've been hit.
The room tilts and my vision blurs, darkening around the periphery.
My knees soften so fast I nearly slide down the cabinet, my legs refusing to support my weight.
I catch myself on the counter, both hands braced against the surface to keep from collapsing completely.
Another message drops in before I can process the first one, the phone vibrating in my hand.
Seattle doesn't change your situation. It changes your leverage. Do what I tell you when I tell you… and she keeps breathing.
My vision goes watery, tears finally spilling over despite my attempt to hold them back. They slide down my cheeks in hot tracks, dripping off my jaw onto the counter below. I can taste salt on my lips, bitter and unwelcome.
Then the final message appears below the others, accompanied by another soft vibration.
Don't test me again.
My legs give out for a second, the muscles simply refusing to function.
I brace one hand on the sink, fingers splayed wide for maximum support, while my skin turns cold and my fingers go numb.
A tremor runs through me so violently that the phone slides from my fingers and clatters against the sink basin, the sound echoing off the tiles.
The device bounces once before settling, the screen still glowing with Ray's messages.
Leaving Aspen Ridge doesn't mean safety. It means slipping deeper into Ray's grip, sinking further into the quicksand he's built around me. It means losing the last illusion of control I still had. And Luka has no idea that every choice he's making is feeding into the trap I'm already caught in.
A knock sounds on the bathroom door, three firm raps that make me jump. “Sage,” Luka calls quietly, his voice muffled by the wood. “Open the door.”
I swipe at my cheeks with the back of my hand even though I'm not crying anymore, not exactly. The tears have stopped, but the tracks remain, sticky against my skin. My eyes burn and my throat aches, swollen and sore from holding back sobs.
“One second,” I answer, forcing the words out. My voice strains on the last syllable, cracking slightly despite my efforts. I grab the phone and shove it into the pocket of my leggings, the device pressing against my hip.
I turn the handle and pull the door open, the hinges creaking softly.
Luka stands there filling the doorway, broad shoulders blocking out the light behind him.
His presence dominates the space, making everything else seem smaller by comparison.
His gaze runs across my face instantly, taking in things I don't want him to see.
His voice gentles just enough to cut through me, softening in a way I’m not prepared for. “You look pale.”
“I'm fine.” The lie tastes bitter on my tongue, but I force it out anyway because what else can I say? “I just needed a moment.”
He studies me with slow intensity, his eyes moving across my face like he's memorizing every feature. “If you're afraid of Seattle, tell me what part exactly worries you.”
I shrug lightly, trying to make my body language casual even though my pulse still races beneath my skin. My heart hammers against my ribs, the rhythm chaotic and uneven. “It's not Seattle. It's leaving everything behind again. The café. Hope's things. My life. Everything keeps changing so fast.”
The words aren't entirely false. I am terrified of leaving, just not for the reasons he thinks.
He steps closer, his hand lifting as if he wants to touch me but letting it hover for a moment. Finally, he closes the distance, his palm warm against my waist. “You are not alone in this.”
The heat from his hand seeps through my sweater, spreading across my side. I can feel each finger distinctly, the pressure gentle and reassuring. I nod because I don't trust my voice to remain steady if I speak.
He reaches for my waist with both hands now, guiding me gently out of the doorway. His touch is warm and solid, the opposite of everything spinning inside me. “We leave at dusk. Albert and Kolya will prep the vehicles.”
I swallow the lump in my throat, forcing it down even though it doesn't want to move. “Okay.”
He searches my face again, his eyes moving between mine as if there’s more he wants to say. The moment stretches between us, loaded with unspoken things. But he lets it drop, whatever concern or suspicion he might have, dissolving as he decides not to push.
The house becomes a flurry of quiet preparation over the next few hours.
Footsteps echo through the hallways, and muffled conversations drift up from the lower level.
Albert moves outside, loading luggage into the back of one SUV, his movements methodical.
Through the window, I watch him lift two large suitcases like they weigh nothing.
Kolya checks both vehicles, opening compartments and inspecting the tires with careful attention. He circles each SUV twice, running his hands along the wheel wells and peering underneath. Then he scans the tree line, his hand resting near his waistband where I know his weapon sits.
Vega stays close to my leg, his warm body brushing my thigh each time I adjust my weight. The contact is reassuring, his solid presence the only thing keeping me balanced as the cabin transforms into a staging area for our departure.
I stare out at the mountain landscape. The pines stand tall and silent, their branches heavy with the light dusting of snow that fell overnight.
The white coating glitters in the afternoon sun, each flake absorbing the light and reflecting it back.
Somewhere out there, Hope is trapped. I press my palm against the cold glass, the chill seeping into my skin.
Behind me, I hear Luka enter the room. His footsteps are recognizable now, the particular rhythm and heaviness of his gait something I’ve learned to identify without looking.
“Are you packed?” he asks.
“Most of it.” I don't move from the window, my eyes still fixed on the tree line.
“We will send for anything you forget.” His voice is closer now, just behind my shoulder. I feel his presence before his hand settles on my lower back, warm through the fabric of my sweater. “This move is temporary, Sage. Once Hope is safe, we can discuss coming back here.”
I turn from the window to face him, forcing my expression into a mask of calm. “I know you're trying to protect me.”
“I am.” No hesitation, no doubt. Just pure certainty.
The guilt threatens to choke me. I reach up and touch his chest, my palm resting over his heart. I can feel it beating through his shirt, slow and even.
“Thank you,” I whisper, the words catching in my throat.
His expression softens marginally. He covers my hand with his own, pressing it more firmly against his chest. “You do not need to thank me for keeping you alive.”
Heat curls low in my stomach at the feel of his hand covering mine, a pull I can’t ignore anymore. Even in the middle of this nightmare, the connection between us keeps tightening, sure and undeniable.
Time moves too quickly after that. The sun slides lower in the sky, painting the snow-covered landscape in shades of orange and pink. Shadows lengthen across the ground, stretching between the pines. Misha appears in the doorway to tell us the vehicles are ready.
Luka keeps a hand near his weapon as we descend the stairs. His eyes scan every corner and every shadow.
When he opens the passenger door of the SUV for me, I force my body to move forward.
My legs feel disconnected from my brain, operating on autopilot while my mind races.
My fingers curl around the cold metal frame as I climb inside.
Vega jumps onto the floor space at my feet, settling immediately.
Luka shuts the door gently, the click sounding too final.
The convoy rolls out seconds later. The tires crunch over gravel, each small stone popping beneath the rubber. Mist rises from the pines as we pass, swirling like breath in cold air.
I look out the window as the cabin disappears behind the curve of the mountain. One moment, it's visible through the trees, windows glowing warm in the twilight. The next, it's gone, swallowed by the forest. The place that felt like a cage now feels like the last piece of ground I understood.
The farther we drive, the smaller the mountains look in the distance. I lean my head against the cool glass and shut my eyes for a moment just to keep myself from unraveling. The vibration of the road hums through my bones, and my heartbeat pulses faintly in the side of my throat.
When I open my eyes again, the mountain pass is behind us. The narrow road has widened into a highway. The air feels different, thinner somehow. The sky widens, gray and washed out as the sun continues its descent.
Seattle grows closer with every mile we take away from home.
The private jet sits waiting on the tarmac when we arrive at the small regional airport.
The Barinov crest gleams faintly near the tail, reflecting the remaining light.
Men move with purpose around the aircraft, loading equipment and checking the engines, each knowing their role without needing direction.
Luka escorts me up the steps with his hand resting lightly on my back. The metal stairs ring beneath our feet. His touch is gentle but insistent, guiding me forward. The moment the cabin door closes behind us, I feel the last thread of Aspen Ridge snap.
The jet's interior is exactly what I expected. Cream leather seats arranged in clusters, polished wood accents, soft lighting that glows from hidden fixtures. A flight attendant nods respectfully as we enter.
Luka guides me to a seat by the window and settles beside me. Vega takes up position at our feet, his body warm and reassuring against my ankle. Luka leans close, his breath brushing my hair. “This is temporary. Once Hope is safe, we will come home.”
I don't respond. I can't. The word home lingers inside me, delicate and uncertain, as the engines roar to life beneath us. The sound builds from a low rumble to a full-throated growl, vibrating through the seats and floor. The jet begins to move, rolling forward along the tarmac.
The acceleration presses me back into the seat as we pick up speed. The runway blurs past, white lights marking the edges becoming streaks of brightness. Then we're lifting, the nose rising as the wheels leave the ground.
Colorado shrinks below us, the wilderness reducing to a smear of green and white. I press my hand against the window, watching the mountains disappear. The ranges that dominated the landscape become wrinkles in the earth, then barely visible bumps.
Clouds swallow us whole moments later, white mist obscuring the view. The world outside becomes nothing but gray fog, endless in every direction. The plane tilts higher, cutting through gray sky and carrying me toward whatever comes next. And away from the girl I used to be.