Chapter 31 Lena
LENA
The walk through the snow feels endless.
My legs burn with each step, the cold seeping through my jeans despite the thermal layers underneath.
The beam from my flashlight cuts through the darkness, illuminating nothing but white and more white, trees casting skeletal shadows that reach for us like grasping fingers.
Aleksandr walks ahead, his broad shoulders cutting through the wind like he doesn't even feel the cold. Danil brings up the rear, and I'm trapped between them. Literally and figuratively.
My duffel bag is heavy on my shoulder, packed with the essentials of a life I'm leaving behind. Again. The cabin that was my sanctuary for three years is already fading into memory, and the ache in my chest has nothing to do with the frigid air.
"How much further?" My voice comes out breathless, strained.
"Another quarter mile." Danil's accent is thicker in the cold. "The car is just past the ridge."
I stop walking. "Your car. The one that supposedly broke down."
Aleksandr turns, his gold eyes catching the flashlight beam. Even exhausted and furious, my body responds to the sight of him. The way his thermal shirt clings to his chest. The sharp line of his jaw beneath that short and well-trimmed beard. The predatory grace in how he moves.
I hate that I still notice. Hate that my pulse quickens for all the wrong reasons.
"It didn't break down, did it?" I direct the question at Danil, but I'm watching Aleksandr's face. "You lied to get into my cabin."
Danil has the decency to look slightly uncomfortable. "It was necessary."
"Necessary." I laugh, and the sound is harsh in the quiet night. "Everything is necessary with you people."
"Keep moving." Aleksandr's voice carries that edge of command that makes my spine want to straighten automatically. "We're exposed out here."
"Maybe I like being exposed." But I start walking again because what choice do I have? Run into the wilderness in the middle of the night? Freeze to death to prove a point?
The car appears through the trees exactly where Danil said it would be. A black SUV with tinted windows, expensive and anonymous. The kind of vehicle that screams money and danger in equal measure.
Danil unlocks it with a beep that sounds obscenely loud in the silence. The engine starts immediately, purring to life without hesitation.
"Liar," I mutter, throwing my duffel into the back seat.
"Strategic," Danil corrects, but there's almost an apology in his tone.
Aleksandr opens the back door and gestures for me to get in. His hand finds the small of my back, guiding me, and even through my coat, I feel the heat of his palm. My body remembers that touch in contexts that have nothing to do with kidnapping.
I slide across the leather seat, and he closes the door with a soft click that sounds like a cell locking. He takes the front passenger seat, his long legs stretching out, and Danil settles behind the wheel.
The heater kicks on, blasting warm air that makes my frozen fingers ache as sensation returns. I press my face against the cold window, watching the trees slide past as we navigate down the mountain road.
"Status report." Aleksandr's voice is all business now. No trace of Sasha, the man who made me laugh during snowball fights and held me through nightmares.
Danil's hands are steady on the wheel. "Ronnie's been holding things together. He's loyal, always has been. The men respect him, and he's kept operations running smoothly."
"And Ivan?"
Something in Aleksandr's tone makes me look up. There's an edge there, sharp and dangerous.
Danil's jaw tightens. "Ivan's been making noise. Nothing overt, but he's been testing boundaries. Asking questions about succession. Making suggestions about restructuring territories."
"Ambitious." Aleksandr's fingers drum against his thigh, and I notice the way the muscles in his forearm flex beneath his shirt.
"Ambitious and stupid," Danil agrees. "He's been gathering support from some of the younger soldiers. The ones who don't remember what you're capable of."
"Then they'll learn." The cold certainty in Aleksandr's voice sends ice down my spine. "How many?"
"Maybe six, seven guys. Small enough to handle quietly."
They're discussing violence like other people discuss the weather. Casual. Practical. And I'm sitting in the back seat listening to them plan how to eliminate threats to Aleksandr's power.
The reality of who he is, what he does, crashes over me again. This isn't some abstract concept anymore. This is my life now. Trapped in a car with two killers, being taken to a world where loyalty is bought with fear and betrayal is answered with blood.
The trees thin as we descend, the tire chains crunching against the snow as civilization creeps back in the form of scattered houses and streetlights.
I watch my reflection in the window, barely recognizing the woman staring back.
Three years ago, I was a different person.
Someone who believed in safety and justice and the basic goodness of people.
That woman is gone, distinguished by the same organization that's now claiming me as property.
A thought strikes me with the force of a physical blow. My parents. God, my parents. Are they even alive?
"Danil." My voice cracks, and both men turn to look at me. "My parents. After I disappeared, did anyone go after them?"
The question hangs in the air like smoke. Aleksandr's expression doesn't change, but something flickers in those gold eyes. Guilt, maybe. Or just calculation.
"No." Danil's voice is gentle, which somehow makes it worse. "No hit was put on them. Only you."
"Only me." I laugh, and it sounds slightly hysterical. "Well, that's comforting."
"None of our people touched them," Danil adds, meeting my eyes in the rearview mirror.
The relief that floods through me is so intense, it's almost painful. My parents are alive. They're safe. At least there's that.
"Thank you," I whisper.
Aleksandr shifts in his seat, and I catch the movement of his broad shoulders beneath his jacket.
The silence stretches as we drive, broken only by the hum of the engine and the occasional comment from Danil about road conditions.
I zone out, watching the landscape blur past. Snow-covered fields give way to small towns, their windows glowing warm against the darkness.
Normal people living normal lives, completely unaware that a car full of criminals is passing through their quiet streets.
What would they think if they knew? Would they call the police? Would they even believe it?
My mind spins in circles, trying to process everything. Trying to find some angle, some way out of this nightmare. But every path leads back to the same conclusion. I'm trapped. Completely and utterly trapped.
"We need to stop for gas," Danil says, breaking into my thoughts. "And I could use some coffee."
"There's a station up ahead," Aleksandr replies. His voice is all business now, no trace of the man who held me in the cabin. "Make it quick."
The gas station appears like an oasis of fluorescent light in the darkness. Danil pulls up to a pump, and the sudden stillness after hours of driving feels surreal. Through the windows, I can see a bored attendant behind the counter, scrolling through his phone.
So close to help. So impossibly far.
"I'll pump," Aleksandr says, already opening his door. "Danil, get whatever we need inside. Coffee, food, whatever."
"Got it, Boss." Danil climbs out, stretching with an audible groan.
I reach for my door handle, desperate to escape the confined space, to use the bathroom, to breathe air that doesn't smell like tension and testosterone.
"Where do you think you're going?" Aleksandr's voice stops me cold.
"The bathroom," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "Unless you'd prefer I piss in your backseat."
A muscle tics in his jaw. For a moment, I think he might actually say yes, might keep me locked in this car like a prisoner. Then he jerks his head toward the building.
"Fine. Go."
I scramble out before he can change his mind, my legs stiff from sitting so long. The cold air hits my face like a slap, sharp and clarifying. I'm halfway to the door when a hand closes around my upper arm.
Aleksandr.
He spins me around, and suddenly, we're chest to chest. Close enough that I can see the gold flecks in his eyes, the shadow of stubble along his jaw. Close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body and to smell the scent of him that's become dangerously familiar.
"Don't even think about running." His voice is low, deadly. Not a warning. A promise.
My heart hammers against my ribs. "I need to use the bathroom."
"I know what you need." His grip tightens, not enough to hurt but enough to remind me exactly how strong he is. How easily he could break me if he wanted to. "I also know what you're thinking. That maybe you can slip out a back door. Flag down a car. Scream for help."
"I wasn't—"
"Don't lie to me, Lena." He leans closer, and God help me, my body responds even as my mind recoils. "You've gotten good at a lot of things in the past three years, but lying to me isn't one of them."
I lift my chin, meeting his gaze even though everything in me wants to look away. "What do you want me to say? That I'll be a good little prisoner? That I won't try to save myself?"
Something flashes across his face. Anger, maybe. Or respect. With Aleksandr, it's hard to tell the difference.
"I want you to understand something." His free hand comes up, fingers gripping my chin. The touch sends electricity skittering down my spine. "My memory coming back doesn't change the fact that people are hunting me. Powerful people. Dangerous people."
"I know that."
"Do you?" His thumb brushes across my lower lip, and I hate the way my breath catches. "Because if they don't already know about you, they will soon. And when they do, you become a target. Again."
The words sink in like stones in deep water. He's right. Of course he's right. The moment anyone realizes I matter to him, even as a former target, I'm leverage. A weakness to exploit.
"So, what?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. "You're protecting me now?"
His laugh is harsh, humorless. "I'm protecting my interests. There's a difference."
He releases me abruptly, and I stumble back a step. My arm burns where he held me, and I resist the urge to rub the spot, to acknowledge the effect he has on me.
"Five minutes," he says, already turning back toward the car. "Any longer and I'm coming in after you."
I watch him walk away, admiring the confident stride despite myself. Then I turn and head inside, my mind racing.
Five minutes. Five minutes to figure out if the man I fell in love with is really gone or if there's any part of him left worth saving. Five minutes to decide if I'm being taken back for protection.
Or if Aleksandr is taking me back to finish what he started.