Chapter 32
PAVEL
I carried Alina out of the precinct, glaring at anyone who dared to come near us.
No one was getting near her again. Not now. Not ever.
Especially as I could feel the strength leaving her body as she relaxed into my hold. She had held strong for so long, and now it was time for me to be strong for her.
I settled her into the passenger seat of the Range Rover, clicking the seat belt for her before I closed and locked the door.
Three of my men were waiting—the one who came and got me, and the two that followed her to the police station to make sure that was where they took her.
I was man enough to recognize that they did everything they could to handle the situation as best as possible. Any other outcome could have been far worse.
But that didn't mean I was letting them off the hook.
"I'm taking the car," I said, holding out my hand for the keys.
They were instantly handed over .
"The three of you fucked up. You allowed someone to lay hands on my wife. There's still an opening at the office building cleaning crew. You three will work there as janitors until I can stand the sight of you."
"Yes, boss," they said in unison. Relief washed over their faces.
They were getting off light and they fucking knew it. I should've been taking hands, leaving bullet holes. Alina's safety was the highest priority. But so was her well-being, and I had to get her away from here and back to our penthouse.
Artem waved his hand, telling me to wait, and I replied with a middle finger as I climbed into the driver's seat.
There was no way I was trusting anyone else to drive her.
The ride was silent. When we got back to the hotel, I picked her up out of the seat, holding her to my chest as I brought her into the penthouse.
Her small body curled against my chest, shuddering. She was too frail, too thin, and I had let them get to her.
Alina didn't fight me, she didn't protest. She simply let me carry her, hold her.
That was the part that gutted me.
My strong, defiant little kitten was silent.
She had been quiet before, but even in that silence there was a tension, an air of hostility and defiance.
Alina wasn't the kind of girl who could have her spirit broken, or so I thought.
God knew I relished her fight, her never-fading spirit. The only time she had ever not fought was when she gave in to pleasure seconds before coming. That was the sweetest victory each time.
Now she was quiet, but there was no fight in the air, no anger or resentment. There was no victory in this, only failure.
She was shaken, exhausted, and too raw to pretend otherwise. Those men just took her; they plucked her off the street and interrogated her.
There was no way for me to know what they said. I knew he had hit her in the face, but what else?
Had he touched her? I didn't think so. I got there as fast as I could, but that didn't mean he didn't threaten to.
What had she seen? What had she gone through before I showed up?
I had failed her. Profoundly failed her.
It was my job to make sure nothing like that ever happened. Yet it did. I had men surrounding her, and it still happened.
I could've lost her.
If they didn't want to talk to her, if they just wanted her dead, then they could've?—
The thought sank deep, twisting like a knife in my gut.
She was my wife, and I had let my dark, twisted, fucked-up world get too close. I had allowed my enemies to touch what was mine.
That would never happen again. I couldn't allow it to happen again.
Not even if it cost me my life. I didn't give a fuck if I had to claw my way back from hell itself. I would protect her .
I took her straight to the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed with her still in my arms.
The plan was to tuck her into the bed and let her sleep, recover, but I couldn't stand the idea of leaving her, or even having her out of my arms. Not yet.
With one arm braced around her waist, my other hand stroked the back of her head, my fingers weaving through her soft hair. I could say I was trying to soothe her, but really, it was for me.
I had to know she was there. I was the one who craved the constant reassurance that she was fine, that nothing else could happen to her, that she was protected in my arms.
She wasn't the only one who had been shaken. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw all those guns pointed at her in the video. I saw the red handprint on her face and the lines around her delicate wrists.
Every time I closed my eyes, I was reminded how close I came to losing her.
"You're protected now, moy kotyonochek ," I murmured into her silky hair that smelled of the vanilla shampoo the hotel stocked. "I've got you. No one can get to you here. No one can touch you. You are secure. I'm here."
She didn't answer, but her hands fisted my shirt, holding onto me as if I were the only solid thing in a world spinning out of her control. She clung to me like I was her lifeline, and that was exactly what I wanted to be.
It was what I had to be, because if I was her anchor, then she was mine.
I craved control of the situation. Be the one she came to when she was scared, the one who sheltered her from the storm.
It was a dangerous realization.
She was mine. Not just owned—not just claimed.
She was mine in a way no one else had ever been. In a way that I didn't know was even possible. She was mine in a way that made me understand the foolish things Artem and Kostya had done.
I understood why Kostya chased Marina from Russia to New York, then Chicago, and back again. I understood why Artem faced down an army by himself to keep Viktoria protected.
I'd do the same, and so much more for Alina.
The way my heart ached and my soul burned made me understand how Gregor's priorities had changed and why the world worked the way it did.
I loved money; I craved power, and I had always lost myself in the beauty of violence. But none of it mattered anymore.
All of it paled when compared to this woman, who was quivering in my arms.
There was nothing I wouldn't do for her. Nothing I wouldn't gladly give up just to see her smile, to hold her body against mine.
I used to scoff at men who thought like this, but I had been a fool because I didn't understand what this was. What it meant.
I was in love with her.
Not just because she had a hot body or was a natural submissive. It wasn't because of the glimpses of fire sparking in her eyes when she fought me .
It was because she was made for me, and I for her. She was the other half of me, and I could not live without her by my side.
The realization hit me like a sledgehammer to the chest.
She was my everything, and I had let her be taken from me.
I had to show her I was sorry. I had to prove I was capable of taking care of her, of being the man she deserved.
Slowly, carefully, I peeled her out of her ruined clothes. They smelled like cop coffee and the enemy. I was going to have them burned.
I went to the closet intending to grab one of her shirts and yoga pants, but I grabbed one of my T-shirts instead. It was an older one that had softened with age.
I slid it over her head, and she still said nothing as she slid her arms into the sleeves before wrapping her arms around her waist.
The T-shirt was far too big. It practically swallowed her whole. It was almost enough to hide the way her body shook.
I picked her up again, letting her curl against my chest as I sat down on the bed.
She let me. There was no fighting, no struggling, not even a grunt of protest. She just laid her head on my chest and trembled.
She was quiet. Too quiet. Too vulnerable.
Alina was always so fucking strong, and now she needed me. She needed me to be her refuge, to make her feel sheltered and cared for .
That was what I intended to do.
So I took care of her. I took care of her in a way I knew no one else had. Not for a very long time.
With a press of my lips to her forehead, I left her on the bed and moved to the bathroom to draw a warm bath, filling the tub with the rose-scented bubbles she often preferred.
When I brought her in, she didn't fight me. There was no fire in her eyes, no acknowledgement of what was happening. Not even as I stripped her and rolled up my sleeves before I gently lowered her into the water.
I wanted to go in with her, but this wasn't about my comfort. It was about hers.
Keeping my touch gentle, I washed her. My firm hands massaged the bodywash into her shoulders while I tried to release the tension she was holding onto, and then I carefully washed her long hair, taking time to massage the luxurious lather into her scalp until she melted into the bathtub.
I even took my time combing the conditioner through her curls, gently detangling her locks. Showing her how I felt.
I wanted to tell her. I wanted to say the words, but why would she believe me?
How could I say I loved her when I had taken her, locked her away, and then let her be taken from me?
I wrapped her in a thick robe, lifted her into my arms, and carried her back to bed.
She collapsed onto the comforter, still not saying a word as she stared into space.
I brought her hot tea, coaxing her to take small sips. She did as I asked but said nothing. It was like she was there, but not. Like she had escaped into her own mind.
I wanted her here with me, but what I wanted wasn't important. She had to process what had happened, and all I could do was hope that she would let me in when she was ready.
The sun set, casting long shadows across our room as we lay in bed together. I would have stayed there all night if she needed me to, but then her stomach growled.
Without a word, I sent a text down to room service, ordering comfort food.
Tomato soup with grilled cheese and extra crusty bread. It was my go-to meal when life was a bit too much. The thick, rich soup always seemed to warm me from the inside out, and I hoped it would do the same for her.
When it was delivered, she was still lifeless, just staring at the wall. At least the shaking had stopped.
I brought the food into the bedroom, setting it up on the bedside table, then settled her into my lap.
"Babygirl, I know you're hungry. Can you eat a few bites for me?"
She nodded, her body going limp against mine.
I tore a piece of the sandwich and dipped it into the soup, then brought it to her lips.
Alina resisted at first. But I just pressed my lips to her temple and murmured, "Eat for me, babygirl. I have to take care of you. Please let me."
She opened her mouth obediently and chewed, then swallowed. With every bite, she seemed a little more present, a little more alive.
Each small act of care changed me. It made me realize how delicate she was, how far I had pushed her, and how much she meant to me.
She was mine.
Yet my world had broken her. I hadn't broken her, and not for lack of trying. I had pushed her to new limits, but all it took was one outing to go terribly wrong, and she shattered in my arms.
She was so strong; she fought me tooth and nail, even when I made it impossible. Even before me, she had dealt with her father's debts and the assholes that came with that, even going as far as giving up her entire life to pay his debt and support her grandmother, and she barely frayed.
This woman was made of steel, and yet, I let them take her and break her.
After she had eaten half a sandwich and a bowl of the soup, I was satisfied and let her rest. Alina curled into me, her cheek resting against my chest, her fingers tracing small circles on my shirt.
I didn’t think she realized what she was doing.
She didn't realize how deeply it affected me. Just having her touch me, willingly touch me of her own accord, was so deeply soothing.
"I knew you wouldn't betray me," I murmured, breaking the silence.
She tensed in my arms, and for a moment, I was afraid she was going to disappear into her head again. "You were so angry."
"I wasn't angry at you, baby. I was angry that anyone dared to put their hands on you. They had no right. I was… afraid they had taken you from me. "
She swallowed hard, fingers tightening in my shirt. "I was scared."
I closed my eyes, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to her hair. "I won't let it happen again. You will be protected, sheltered. I swear it."
She tilted her head, gazing up at me remnants of that fear swimming in her dark eyes.
"You promise?"
I cupped her face, my thumb stroking her cheek. "I swear to you with everything that I am."
She hesitated, then whispered, "Then I'll hold you to it, Pavel."
My chest ached.
She trusted me. She believed me.
Anyone who tried to take her from me again would beg for death before I was done with them.