Chapter 15
ANDREI
The estate is quiet when I return.
I step through the front entrance, Viktor and two other men flanking me.
We're all exhausted. The past three days have been brutal—coordinating strikes against Volkov's supply lines, shoring up defenses, meeting with allies who are starting to question whether this war is worth the cost. I haven't slept more than a few hours total, and my body is screaming for rest.
But first, I need to see her.
The thought is unwelcome. I push it aside, intending to go to my office and review the intelligence reports that have surely accumulated in my absence. That's what I should do. What I need to do.
Instead, I find myself walking upstairs toward her room.
The door is closed. I push it open. The room is empty.
My chest tightens, and I tell myself it's irrational She's probably just in the bathroom, or—
I check the bathroom. Empty. She's not here.
Panic hits me like a fist to the gut. Where the fuck is she? Did someone take her? Did she escape? Is she hurt?
I stride quickly back into the hallway, my pulse hammering in my ears. "Viktor!"
He appears immediately, concern flickering across his face when he sees my expression. "Boss?"
"Where is she?"
"The captive?" He looks confused. "I don't know. I assumed she was in her room."
"She's not." My voice is too sharp. I force myself to breathe. "Find her. Now."
Viktor nods and disappears. I hear him calling to the other men, organizing a search. I should let them handle it. I should go to my office and wait for them to report back.
I can't.
I move through the mansion like a man possessed, checking every room, every corner. The kitchen—empty. The dining room—empty. The sitting rooms, the study, the—
The library.
The door is slightly ajar, and I push it open the rest of the way.
She's there.
Relief crashes over me so hard my knees nearly buckle. She's sitting in one of the leather chairs near the window, a book open in her lap, sunlight streaming over her hair and turning it gold. She looks peaceful. Safe.
She looks beautiful.
She looks up when I enter, and her eyes widen… almost like she's happy to see me. Like she's been waiting for me. "You're back," she says, starting to stand.
My heart is still pounding with the adrenaline and fear of thinking she was gone. "What are you doing here?" My voice comes out cold and flat.
She freezes, the smile fading. "I was just reading. I thought—"
"You thought what?" I step into the room, closing the door behind me. "That you could wander wherever you wanted? That the rules don't apply to you? Did I tell you that you were free to go wherever you wanted while I was away? After what just happened before I left?"
"I didn't think—"
"No. You didn't think." I step toward her, and I see her shrink back slightly. Good. "You know you're supposed to stay in your room unless I know where you are. And I couldn't know where you were, now could I?"
"You were gone for three days." There's a flash of defiance in her eyes. "I didn't know when you'd be back. I didn't know if you were coming back at all. I was just reading a novel. I just wanted something to do, somewhere to be that wasn't that room—"
"I don't care what you wanted." The words are harsh, deliberately so.
I need to shut this down. I need to reestablish the boundaries that have been blurring between us.
No woman should make me feel the kind of fear I felt for a moment at the thought that she'd escaped or been stolen—especially not this woman.
"You're a captive, Liesl. Not a guest. Not my—" I stop myself before I can finish that sentence.
"You don't get to make decisions about where you go or what you do. "
She stares at me, and I see hurt flash across her face before she masks it. "I understand."
"Do you?" I pull out my phone, sending a quick text to Viktor to let him know I've tracked her down. "Because it seems like you've forgotten your place here."
"My place." Her voice is quiet now, but there's an edge to it. "No, I haven't forgotten. Your captive. Your leverage. A complication."
"Exactly." I pocket my phone. "And complications need to be managed. Controlled."
"So control me, then." She crosses her arms over her chest, narrowing her eyes at me. "Lock me back in that room. Take away the books, the walks, everything. Turn me back into what I was when I first got here—terrified and alone and waiting to die."
The words are a challenge, and we both know it. She's daring me to be the monster she's trying to convince herself I am. The monster I should be.
The monster I'm not sure I can be anymore. Not with her.
But I have to try. Everything is crumbling around me, and a large part of it is because of her.
"Fine," I say. "You're confined to your suite. No more walks. No more access to the rest of the mansion or the estate. Meals will be brought to you. You don't leave that room unless I personally escort you."
She flinches like I've struck her. "Andrei—"
"That's not my name to you." I force the words out, each one like swallowing glass. "You call me sir, or you don't speak at all."
For a moment, I think she's going to cry. I see her eyes go bright, and see her throat work as she swallows. But she just nods once, stiffly, and moves toward the door.
I follow her, at a distance as I escort her back up to her room. When she walks inside, I force myself not to go in as well.
I know what might happen if I do. Instead, I shut the door hard, lock it, and stand there for a moment, my breathing heavy.
I can't handle seeing her wandering freely through my home, making herself comfortable, looking at me like I'm something other than what I am. The truth is that every time I see her, every time she smiles at me or touches me or looks at me, I feel my control slipping further.
I'm terrified of what I'm becoming when I'm around her.
This has to stop. I rub my hand over my face. Whatever was brewing between us has to be over. She's my captive, not my lover.
I have a war to win, and I can't keep sleeping with the enemy.
I stare at her door for another long moment, and then I pivot on my heel, and head down the hall toward my office, to try to focus on the war.
—
The reports are bad.
Volkov has been busy while I was gone. Three more of our shipments intercepted. Two of our warehouses burned. Five men dead, another seven injured. He's escalating, pushing harder, testing to see if I'll break.
And my own men are getting restless. I can see it in the way they look at me during the evening briefing, and hear it in the careful way they phrase their questions. They're wondering if this war is worth it. If a change in leadership would be better for them, if maybe Volkov is a stronger leader.
I address their concerns, laying out our counter-strategy and assigning new security protocols, making it clear that we're not backing down. That we're going to hit Volkov harder than he's hitting us. But I can feel their doubt. When the meeting ends, I dismiss them all except Viktor.
"The men are talking," he says once we're alone. It's not a question.
"Let them talk." I shuffle papers on the desk to have something to do with my hands. I know what's coming next, and my jaw clenches.
"They still feel you're distracted. That it's the girl's fault. That all of this has to do with her."
"That's not true. I intended to take Volkov's daughter in the first place to send a message. He's been pushing our boundaries since I took over. This started long before Liesl."
"But they feel that she's making your decisions worse."
I look at him. Viktor has been with me since the beginning, one of the few men I trust completely. "And what do you think?" I ask.
He's quiet for a moment. "I think you're not yourself. I think you haven't been yourself since we brought her here."
"That doesn't answer my question."
"I think," he says carefully, "that weakness is a matter of perception. If the men perceive you as weak, then you are weak, regardless of the reality."
"So what do you suggest?"
"Turn her loose. Since her father doesn't want to pay ransom, pay him under the table to end this. Don't let the men know about it, and make it look like Volkov has just backed down. Or—" He hesitates.
"Or what?"
"Or kill her. Make it clear that she means nothing. That this war is about principle, not about her." He pauses, looking at me warily. "That would be the stronger choice. It would earn their respect. Pakhan."
I feel rage flood through me, hot and immediate. "Get out."
Viktor's eyes widen slightly. "Boss—"
"Get. Out."
He goes. I'm left alone in my office, hands clenched into fists, trying to control the fury coursing through me. The idea of killing her, of anyone touching her, of—
I force myself to breathe. To think. This is exactly what Viktor was talking about. This reaction, this loss of control—it's proof that she's gotten under my skin. That I'm compromised.
I need to fix this. I need to reestablish my priorities, my focus. The war with Volkov is what matters. Protecting my organization is what matters. Maintaining my authority is what matters.
Liesl is just a captive. Just leverage. Just—
I need sleep.
I go up the stairs, intending to head to my own room, shower, and crash for as long as I can before something else wakes me or there's some other fire to put out. But halfway down the hall, I hear the faint, unmistakeable sound of crying.
It's coming from the direction of Liesl's room, muffled by the walls but still audible in the late-night quiet.
Ignore it. But I can't. Another soft, broken sob wafts toward me, and my feet carry me to her door. I push it open, and I see her immediately.
She's curled up on the bed, face buried in her pillow, shoulders shaking with sobs. She doesn't hear me enter or notice me standing in the doorway.
I should leave. I should lock the door and walk away and let her cry herself out. Instead, I close the door behind me and cross to the bed.
"Liesl."