37. Russ
RUSS
The cap sits on Marla's kitchen table like a fucking declaration of war. Mud still clings to the fabric, fresh enough that it smears slightly when I shove it toward the center with more force than necessary. My hands are shaking. Not from fear. From pure, unfiltered rage.
"He was right fucking there," I say, my voice coming out rougher than I intend. "Close enough to look through the goddamn window. Close enough to see her."
Nick stands near the door, his black hair still damp from the chase through the woods.
His green eyes are cold and calculating as he stares at the cap.
He's wearing dark jeans and a black sweater that's torn at the shoulder from catching on branches.
There's a scratch along his jaw that's bleeding slightly.
"Was he alone?" Nick asks, his tone flat and professional despite the fury I know is simmering beneath the surface. "Did you notice anyone else? I didn't see any evidence of more than the fucking bastard's footprints."
"Couldn't tell," I admit, running a hand through my hair. "Lost him in the trees about half a mile out."
Alex moves to the window, pulling the curtain aside to scan the darkness outside.
Marla stands near the kitchen counter, her arms wrapped around herself.
She's wearing one of my shirts over leggings, and her red hair is pulled back in a messy knot.
Her face is pale, her blue eyes wide with fear.
The sight of her looking so vulnerable makes my chest tighten painfully.
My fists clench. When I get my hands on that bastard...
"How long has he been watching?" she asks quietly.
"No way to know for sure," I snap.
Nick pulls out his phone and starts typing rapidly. "I'm calling in additional security. We need eyes on every approach to this property until we figure out our next move."
"Next move?" Marla's voice rises slightly. "What next move?"
Alex finally turns from the window, his brown eyes meeting mine briefly before shifting to Marla. "You can't stay here."
"Excuse me?"
"You're not safe here," Alex says calmly, like he's discussing a business transaction instead of uprooting her entire life. "Not anymore."
"I'm not going to be run out of my own home!" she snaps. The irony isn't lost on me. Just an hour ago, she was demanding to leave the cabin and now she's refusing to leave it. I snort and she shoots me an irritated look.
"So what, you're just going to relocate me like I'm furniture?" she growls, looking at each of us in turn. "Pack me up and move me somewhere else without asking?"
"Yes," all three of us say simultaneously.
Her eyes flash dangerously. "Absolutely not."
"It's not a negotiation," Nick says, finally looking up from his phone. "This cottage was never designed to withstand a serious attack. You're isolated out here. One road in, one road out. Woods on all sides providing perfect cover for assholes looking for you. You don't have any escape routes."
"It was fine before," Marla argues.
"It was fine when nobody knew you were here," I correct her, my voice harder than I intend. "Now it's a fucking liability."
The room goes quiet except for the sound of Nick's phone buzzing repeatedly with incoming messages. Alex moves away from the window and leans against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest. He's watching Marla carefully, reading her body language the way he always does.
"Where would I even go?" Marla asks after a long moment, her voice quieter now. "A hotel? Another rental? Somewhere even more isolated?"
"My property," I say before I can second-guess myself.
Everyone turns to look at me. Nick's eyebrows raise slightly. Alex's expression shifts to surprise. Marla just stares at me like I've lost my mind.
"Your property," she repeats slowly.
"I have a mother-in-law building on my land," I explain, pushing away from the table and moving closer to her.
"It's fully furnished. Three bedrooms, with a full kitchen and private entrance.
My mother refuses to live there because she's stubborn as hell and won't leave her own house, so it's been sitting empty for two years. "
"And you think I should just move into your empty building," Marla says flatly.
"It's not just about the building," I say, frustration bleeding into my voice. "It's about location. My property is inside Bratva-controlled territory with a gated entrance and armed security. The cameras will catch anyone coming or going on the property."
Nick nods slowly, his expression thoughtful. "It's a good move."
"Plus it's close to all three of our organizations," Alex adds, his tone pragmatic. "If there's an emergency, any of us can be there in under fifteen minutes instead of forty-five."
Marla looks between the three of us, her expression caught somewhere between disbelief and resignation. "You're all serious about this."
"Dead serious," I say. "This cottage is a death trap now.”
She flinches slightly at my words, and I immediately regret being so blunt. But she needs to understand the reality of the situation. This isn't about control or keeping her locked up. This is about keeping her alive.
"I don't want to be a burden," she says quietly.
"You're not a fucking burden," I snap, then force myself to take a breath and soften my tone. "You're our responsibility, ours to protect."
"I'm not your responsibility," she argues, but there's less heat in her voice now.
"Yeah, you are," Nick says from across the room. "Whether you like it or not."
Alex pushes off the counter and moves closer to Marla, his expression gentler than usual. "This is a temporary situation, Marla. Once we take care of the threat, we can decide what happens next."
"And if the threat is never neutralized?" Marla asks.
The question hangs in the air, heavy and uncomfortable. None of us have an answer for that because we all know the truth. In our world, threats don't just disappear. They escalate until someone ends up dead.
"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it," I say finally. "Right now, we need to get you somewhere safe. Tonight."
Marla looks down at the muddy cap still sitting on the table.
Her shoulders sag slightly, and I can see the moment she accepts the reality of the situation.
She hates it. I can see that clearly in the tension of her jaw and the way her hands are still clenched into fists.
But she's smart enough to recognize when she's out of options.
"Fine," she says quietly, her mouth turned down in an irritated frown.
Relief floods through me, though I'm careful not to show it. "Good. Pack whatever you need for a few days. We'll come back for the rest later with proper security."
She nods and starts to move toward the bedroom, then pauses and turns back to look at me. "Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why your property specifically?" she asks. "Why not Nick's penthouse or Alex's? Why do you want me at your place?"
I meet her gaze steadily, aware that Nick and Alex are both watching this exchange with interest. "Because if Zach comes looking for you again," I say quietly, my voice dropping to something cold and dangerous, "I want him walking straight into Bratva territory when he does."