“You think this is love?”
“Yes.”
The word echoed, and Fyodor looked up at me from the floor. His face was cut, and there was blood at the corner of his mouth. But his eyes still appeared fractured.
“Go with them,” he said hoarsely.
My stomach dropped.
“What?”
“If that’s what you want.”
“It’s not.”
He didn’t look convinced.
“You came without calling,” he said quietly.
“I didn’t know.”
“Your networks went silent.”
“I didn’t know.”
Iosif grabbed my wrist again.
“We are leaving.”
More Romanov reinforcements flooded the stairwell, and the battle reignited instantly. Fyodor pushed himself to his feet and shoved me backward, shielding me from a stray round that shattered the wall behind us. He didn’t escalate. He didn’t order lethal retaliation. He fought defensively, creating an exit. I could see he was retreating under fire and choosing survival over pride. For me. But from where he stood, it looked like nothing but betrayal. It looked like I had lured him into the trap.
“Elisse,” he said one last time.
And there was something in his voice I had never heard before. Not anger. Not fury. Loss.
Before he could say anything else to me, Viktor grabbed his arm, “They’re breaching the west corridor!”
Fyodor held my gaze one heartbeat longer, and then he turned, disappearing down the hall as Romanov men covered his exit. Iosif dragged me toward the stairwell. The gunfire followed them, and the penthouse, which had been my home, shook with it.
“No!” I screamed, fighting against his grip. “Let me go!”
“You’re not staying here!”
“He thinks I called you!”
“You should have!”
“I didn’t want to!”
Avgust forced open the emergency stairwell door, and smoke curled behind us. The marble floors were slick with water from broken sprinkler lines and streaked with blood thatwasn’t entirely Romanov. The operation was still ongoing. We descended three flights before I wrenched free.
“I’m not leaving!”
Iosif turned on me. “You don’t get a choice!”
“I do!”
“He kidnapped you!”
