19. Maggie #2
Across the lobby, Ivy kneels beside Mr. Pickle’s kennel while explaining very seriously that he needs “good listening ears” if he wants to impress future adopters. He responds by licking her entire face.
Alexei watches the interaction from several feet away while speaking quietly into his phone. He looks tired. And unfairly attractive, standing in the middle of my shelter holding a half-chewed tennis ball Ivy shoved into his hand eight minutes ago.
Luka steps through the front doors carrying two cardboard trays of takeout containers from the barbecue truck still parked outside.
“Food,” he announces.
Every remaining volunteer suddenly materializes like a pack of starving raccoons.
Jules presses one hand against his chest. “If that man walked in here holding a cheese board, I’d marry him on the spot.”
“Please. You’d leave him for a man with good hair and a Costco membership.”
Jules grabs a barbecue container off the counter. “You’re not wrong.”
I laugh loudly before I can stop it.
Within minutes, people crowd around the intake counter, balancing pulled pork sandwiches and sweet tea while exhausted laughter fills the lobby. The tension from the past week finally eases enough for me to breathe normally.
There are no threatening calls today, no strange vehicles outside the shelter, and no constant unease crawling up my spine every few minutes. Just dogs, exhausted volunteers, and the warm, hopeful feeling of a shelter full of successful adoptions.
“You haven’t sat down properly once today,” Alexei says quietly beside me.
I glance up. I didn’t even hear him walk over.
“That sounds judgmental.”
“It’s observational.”
“Mhmm. Real different.”
He gives me a small smile while handing me a sweet tea. Our fingers touch for the briefest second before heat rolls straight through me. Which is honestly ridiculous, considering this man destroyed my ability to walk properly less than twenty-four hours ago.
His cool eyes focus on my face for one long second before Ivy barrels toward us.
“Maggie,” she announces breathlessly, “Mr. Pickles listened to three whole commands.”
“That’s basically a miracle, sugar.”
“I know.”
Alexei reaches down to steady her when she nearly trips over a leash, and my chest squeezes unexpectedly at how natural the movement looks now.
Not the billionaire side of him or even the terrifying side.
It’s this part. The father part. The quiet protectiveness that appears every time Ivy is near him, the patience in his voice with her, the softness that slips into his eyes before he can stop it, and the way Ivy trusts him completely. That’s the part capable of ruining me.
“You hungry?” I ask her.
“I already ate chicken nuggets.”
“Of course you did,” I chuckle.
“And fries.”
“Naturally.”
“And Mr. Pickles ate one too.”
Alexei closes his eyes briefly. “Wonderful.”
I laugh again before crouching beside her. “Did Irina eat dinner?”
Ivy points toward the hallway leading to the staff offices. “She’s talking to Viktor because he says she keeps ignoring security rules.”
Alexei exhales through his nose. “That sounds accurate,” he mutters.
“She said your security men are excessive.”
Jules hums in agreement around a mouthful of barbecue.
One of the guards near the entrance mutters something in Russian under his breath that makes Luka laugh.
The entire scene feels strangely normal. Like everyone somehow slipped into place around each other without noticing when it happened.
Volunteers continue cleaning up around us while the shelter slowly empties. A few remaining families finish paperwork near the front desk while the younger volunteers carry folded tables toward the storage room out back.
Dusk deepens across the parking lot. The temporary extra security Alexei had in place is still stationed around the property, though fewer now.
Viktor near the front entrance. Two guards outside.
Another near the back kennel gates. Enough to stay secure without making the shelter look occupied by a small militia.
“You survived your first shelter fundraiser,” I tell Alexei.
He looks around slowly at the destruction surrounding us. “Tentatively.”
I grin widely.
Then Mr. Pickles barks loudly enough to startle everybody when Jake wanders too close to his kennel, carrying an entire hamburger bun he stole from somewhere.
“Sweet heaven,” I mutter.
Jules points immediately from across the intake counter. “Your little felon is back at it again.”
“I don’t even know where he keeps findin’ bread.”
Jules watches Jake trot proudly through the lobby, a bun hanging from his mouth. “Honestly? At this point, I assume he’s running organized crime outta the groomin’ room.”
Alexei watches me chase Jake through the lobby with what looks suspiciously like amusement in his eyes.
“Don’t encourage him,” I warn while finally prying the bun away.
“Seems intelligent,” Alexei says.
“He ate crayons last month.”
“Colorful intelligence.”
I laugh despite myself again, and the sound seems to soften the space between us.
Whatever this thing is between Alexei and me doesn’t feel wild every second anymore.
Tonight it sits quieter beneath the surface, wrapped into small touches, lingering looks, and the way my whole body notices the second he steps close to me now.
The last volunteers begin leaving around eight o’clock.
Jules grabs his bag and a bottle of water. “If I don’t go home immediately, I’m gonna fall asleep standin’ upright.”
“I’m gonna stay and finish cleanin’ up.”
“Honey, if you keep goin’, your spine’s gonna divorce you.”
Fair point.
He hugs me tightly before heading toward the front doors. “Lock up soon, alright?”
“No promises.”
Then he pauses beside Alexei. “You break her heart and I’ll let Jake chew on your expensive shoes.”
Alexei nods once, like Jules made a perfectly reasonable statement. “Understood.”
“Good.” Jules leaves looking entirely satisfied with himself.
I shake my head. “You know he enjoys threatenin’ you.”
“He’s loyal.”
“He’s a menace.”
“Those qualities overlap.”
Ivy suddenly appears between us, holding a dog toy.
“Tired?” I ask.
She nods before rubbing one eye. Her earlier excitement finally faded into exhaustion sometime within the last hour.
Irina steps out from the hallway carrying Ivy’s sweater. “I think somebody is reaching bedtime collapse.”
“I’m not collapsing,” Ivy argues weakly while already leaning against my leg.
“I see,” Irina says knowingly.
Alexei’s face softens at the sight of Ivy fighting sleep. “I should get her home,” he says.
Disappointment slips through me before I can stop it. Which, honestly, is a little pathetic, considering they don’t actually belong to me. Not Alexei. Not Ivy. Not this strange, almost-family feeling that keeps wrapping itself tighter around me anyway.
Before I can answer, Luka steps through the front entrance again after taking a phone call outside. His expression changes the second his eyes meet Alexei's.
Every instinct in me snaps awake.
Alexei notices too. “What is it?” he asks.
“Problem with one of the trucks near the port,” Luka says smoothly. “I need five minutes.”
Alexei sighs before nodding once. “I’ll be outside,” he says to me.
The two men step toward the front doors together, speaking in Russian while Viktor moves closer to the entrance behind them.
I watch them disappear beneath the dim parking lot lights. The unease inside me grows anyway.
“You alright?” Irina asks beside me.
I force a smile. “Yeah. Just tired.” That answer feels like a lie the second it leaves my mouth.
Outside, one of the remaining SUVs pulls slowly around the side of the building toward the back lot.
Inside the shelter, the lights buzz overhead while Ivy curls sleepily against my side.
And somewhere deep in the back kennels, a dog starts barking.
Then another joins in. Within seconds, nearly the entire rear section erupts into noise loud enough to vibrate through the walls.
Irina turns toward the hallway at the same moment I do, concern flashing in her eyes.
“What’s happening?” she asks.
A loud crash echoes somewhere near the rear service entrance. Metal slams against concrete.
The entire shelter stills for one strange, suspended moment afterward.
Outside the front windows, Luka’s head snaps toward the side parking lot.
Alexei moves immediately. One second, he’s standing near the front entrance beside Luka. Next, he’s striding quickly toward the back hallway.
“Viktor,” he says coldly.
Viktor’s hand instinctively moves beneath his jacket, and the sight sends a cold rush straight through me. Not nerves. Not anxiety. Real fear.
“Alexei…” I call out.
Ivy lifts her head sleepily against my arm. “What happened?”
No one answers her.
Another crash explodes through the building, much closer this time, followed by the sound of shouting somewhere outside near the loading area.
The few volunteers left nearest the hallway exchange frightened looks while the dogs lose their minds completely, barking hard enough to rattle the kennel doors. Then the lights cut out. Darkness swallows the shelter instantly. Someone screams.
My pulse slams painfully against my ribs while emergency backup lights flash overhead a second later, flooding the hallways with distorted red light that makes the entire building look wrong and twisted.
“What the hell?” one of the younger volunteers gasps.
“Back office,” Alexei orders immediately.
The tone of his voice turns my blood cold.
Irina grabs Ivy, pulling her close against her side. “Come with me.”
Everything starts happening too fast after that. Radios crackle violently outside while one of the guards shouts in Russian near the front entrance, and then gunfire erupts somewhere behind the building hard enough to tear straight through the shelter.
Ivy screams.
Panic detonates inside the lobby. One volunteer starts crying while another stumbles backward into the donation table, knocking supplies across the floor. Dogs bark hysterically from every direction while someone near the grooming room yells for help.