Chapter 32
TERESA
A few days later…
It’s too quiet. I’ve been staying busy with work, but the other night keeps playing on a loop in my brain. The crunch of footsteps in snow, the sharp white flash, the way Vlad took life after life.
I don’t know how to feel about it. Or rather, I don’t want to admit that I feel safer knowing he’d kill for me. Part of me hates it, while another cherishes it.
I move my little rosemary plant for the third time, sliding it half an inch on the windowsill. The smell helps. So does the ginger tea Dmitri left me. Sometimes I feel like I’m in a luxury hotel instead of a penthouse prison.
I take a sip and rest my hand over the slight curve of my stomach. It makes me feel anchored, reminding me of the little life growing inside.
Then there’s the matter of Trina. We haven’t talked since our last conversation. Is what Jack told her true? Is Vlad not what he seems? She told me all I have to do is ask for help. I don’t even know how to wrap my head around all of it.
The elevator hums and my chest tightens. Vlad stands there, snow clinging to his coat, tie loosened, hair damp. The cold follows him inside.
“Hi,” I say softly.
He looks around first—always scanning—before his eyes land on me. His shoulders ease just a fraction. “Hi.” Gloves hit the console. “Did you eat?”
That’s the first thing he asks these days. I lie. “Yes.”
He heads for the kitchen and downs half a glass of water. He looks tired, though he’d never admit it. Dangerous, even when he’s not trying.
“I’ve been thinking about us. About what happens after this.”
His gaze sharpens. “After depends on what we survive now.”
Not the answer I want. “I know that. But the baby...” My hand presses to my sweater. “Do you actually see a life with me after this? Or am I just a problem you’re managing?”
“Your safety is the most important thing in the world to me.”
“Safe isn’t the same as living,” I say, quieter than intended.
His jaw twitches. “There are things you don’t need to know yet.”
“Like what?”
His eyes hold mine. “I’ll tell you when it’s time.”
“That’s not an answer,” I say. “You want my trust but won’t give me yours.”
He exhales, steady and heavy. “Have you stayed in? No calls, no visitors?”
“I have. Only texts with Trina about nothing important. I’m not stupid.”
“Don’t text her anymore.”
“I need someone to talk to who isn’t you.”
“Nika. Or Katya. Dmitri. Not Trina.”
He makes me a cup of tea. Our fingers brush when he passes it to me, and my pulse jumps.
“I’ll be out tonight,” he says. “There’s one guard downstairs, another by the service elevator, two in the stairwell. Don’t open the door for anybody.”
“Where are you going?”
“Errands.”
I force a half-smile. “Am I even allowed on the terrace?”
“No.”
“What if I want to feel like a person, not a prisoner?”
He steps closer. “You’re not a prisoner,” he says. “You’re the most important person in my life.”
I’m important. He wants to keep me safe. It’s like I’m a folder of intel he needs to look after, not the mother of his child.
“Then act like it,” I whisper. “Tell me what I am when no one’s shooting at us.”
His knuckles skim my cheek. “Everything. And right now, that means distance.”
My phone buzzes with a text from Trina.
You okay?
I flip it face down, hoping he didn’t notice.
“Eat. Sleep. I’ll call,” he says as he pulls on his coat.
“Be safe,” I say.
He hesitates, almost turning back, but doesn’t. The elevator swallows him.
For a while I just stand there with my tea, pretending the quiet means peace. It doesn’t, of course. I curl on the sofa, hand on my stomach, watching the snow blanket the city.
The penthouse feels bigger and emptier in Vlad’s absence. His cologne hangs in the air like a ghost. I wrap my hands around the mug, letting the heat seep into my fingers, then set it back down because my hands won’t stop shaking.
I know I shouldn’t call her. He made it clear not to. But my thumb is already hovering over Trina’s name. I glance at the guard out of the corner of my eye, then hurry to the guest room, the place where all of my things from my old apartment are.
I shut the door and hit call.
She picks up on the second ring, no hello. “Are you alone?”
“Hi to you, too.” I try for light and land on brittle. “Yes. He left five minutes ago.”
Trina lowers her voice anyway. “Good. Sorry for all the secrecy. I’ve been meaning to text you but didn’t want to put anything in writing.”
“What’s going on?”
She exhales a sharp breath. “I think I finally understand what he’s doing.”
My stomach drops. “Trina—”
“Listen.” She’s in command mode, the one that used to talk me through charity galas, seating charts, and which donors needed an extra pat on the ego back when I was with Maxim. “You keep asking me if Vlad is the devil or a man you can build a future with. I think he might be something worse.”
“You’re going to have to be more specific.”
“Okay.” I can hear her moving, heels on hardwood, a door closing.
“Start with motive. Volkov Industries isn’t Aleksander’s only toy.
It holds pieces of everything in this city that matters.
Tucked inside are your parent’s companies, their equity, their distribution networks.
If you control Volkov, you control an empire. Vlad knows this. Everybody does.”
“Right. What are you trying to say?”
“I’m saying he’s clearing the board. First, he convinces you that he’s your protector.
Buys your life. Moves you into his penthouse.
That gives him leverage over Aleksander and sympathy from the old-guard types who still believe in honor.
The ambush in the park? He’ll use that to justify escalation.
If he can push Aleksander into making the first big mistake, he can erase him off the map and look like the reasonable one while he does it. ”
I swallow, throat tight. “That’s not impossible.”
“After Aleksander’s gone, he doesn’t want me voicing my opinions. He doesn’t need Jack stirring up a public mess. And he definitely doesn’t need you around to challenge what comes next.”
I stare at the water glass Vlad left on the island, the print of his thumb ghosting near the rim. My chest is tight, and for a second I can’t find air. “You actually think he’d…” I can’t say it out loud.
“I think men like him call it clearing up loose ends,” she says. “No heirs, no lawsuits.”
“He—” I have to stop and start again. “He promised to keep me safe.”
“Of course he did,” she says gently. “He needs you to trust him right now. You’re the keystone in the story he’s telling. But once the story’s over… you know how this works.”
Do I? I used to think so.
“So, this is all about money?” I ask. “He wants to start a war to take out Volkov, and he needs an excuse?”
“Correct. And you’re a perfect one. No one’s going to question Vlad going after Volkov after what happened in the park. And a war is the perfect cover for taking me, you, and Jack out. Think about it—who would your parent’s company fall to after Aleksander dies?”
“Me. Or Jack.”
“Right. And with Maxim gone, I’m the sole heir to my uncle’s empire. So that means if all three of us die—”
“It’d be total chaos.”
“And easy pickings. Vlad could gobble up everything. Hell, with the CEO gone and no legal heirs, the members of the Volkov Bratva would be begging for a steady hand like Vlad to move in and take charge.”
“Money,” I say again. “It’s all about the money.”
“Money, power, and respect. That’s all there is with these Bratva men.”
I sigh heavily, my heart racing. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. It sounds insane, but it also makes sense. Why else would Vlad take me under his wing when no one else would touch me with a ten foot pole?
“Trina,” I whisper. “If you’re right, then I’m just waiting for him to pick the day.”
“Not if we move first,” she says.
The room tilts. “What does that mean?”
“It means I’ve been hedging for weeks,” she says lightly, like she’s happy I’m on board.
“I hoped I was wrong. But I lined up a few things in case I wasn’t.
A safe apartment in Queens that doesn’t trace back to me or you.
A driver I trust. A lawyer who can start unwinding your parent’s holdings from Volkov’s mess if we push the right buttons. People who owe me, not Vlad.”
I stare at the window until the snow blends into a blur. “You did all that? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you’re in love,” she says simply. “And I wasn’t going to be the one to stomp that to death unless I had to.”
Love. She’s right. I hate it, but she’s right.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Pack a bag,” she says. “Documents, cash, a change of clothes.”
“I’ve already got a bag packed. Vlad wanted me to have a go-bag just in case.”
She lets out a wry laugh. “Well, perfect.”
“Now what?”
“You wait. You’re locked up tight in there, and there’s not a chance in hell Vlad’s going to let you leave unsupervised. I’ll talk with Jack. Don’t worry—soon, we’ll all be safe.”
Safe. The word sits in my mouth like a pill I can’t swallow.
“Trina, what if you’re wrong?” My voice sounds tiny on the last word. “What if he’s actually trying to protect me? What if this is as simple as Aleksander wanting me dead in revenge for Maxim?”
“Teresa.” Her tone softens so much it tugs at my heart. “If I’m wrong, he’ll forgive you for trying to keep yourself and your baby safe. If I’m right, you’ll be safely away from him. But I’m not wrong.”
I think about my parent’s plane, Maxim bleeding out on the marble, the four men in Central Park who Vlad killed. I think about Vlad at the sink, red water spiraling away, and how he touched me afterward so carefully you’d think I was made of glass.
“I don’t know what to believe,” I say as the tears finally come.
“You don’t have to know tonight,” she says. “You just have to be ready to move the second I give the word. Let me handle the rest.”
A small, ugly part of me whispers this is exactly what I’ve done my whole life—let someone else handle the rest. First Dad, then Maxim, now Vlad. But I don’t have a better plan. I don’t even have a baseline for what reality is anymore.
“Okay,” I breathe. “Help me.”
“Good girl. I’ll text in an hour.”
“An hour?” Panic spikes. “He has men downstairs.”
“I know,” she says. “But we’ve got a plan in motion. Just be ready.”
I glance toward the closed door. “Trina, if he finds out—”
“By the time he does you’ll be long gone. Trust me.”
Trust me. I nod even though she can’t see it. “Okay.”
“Put the phone somewhere it won’t be picked up on a sweep,” she adds, pragmatic to the end. “Then breathe. Drink water. Don’t puke if you can help it. It’ll make you shaky.”
A weak laugh escapes. “I’ll do my best.”
“Call me if anything changes. Otherwise, wait for my text.”
“Trina?”
“Hm?”
“Thank you. For being on my side.”
There’s a long pause, then something like sorrow slips into her voice. “Always,” she says, and hangs up.