That was the truth. And it was more than I’d told anyone before. Just saying it out loud to Kira felt dangerous—but relieving. Like giving away a piece of a secret I’d carried too long.
Still, I kept the biggest truth locked away. That her father had taken Mila. That her bloodline was tied to everything that wrecked mine.She had too much fire in her, too much heart. And if I lost control of her now, I could lose everything.
She went quiet, watching me for a long second, her jaw tight like she was choosing her words carefully. “I know it hurts,” she said, her voice low but steady. “I know you carry more than anyone ever should.” She wrapped both of her hands around mine, holding it firmly between them. “Life is brutal. But it didn’t just destroy you—it forged you. You don’t see it, but you’re incredible.” She lifted her chin, her eyes locked on mine. “And I know this sounds wrong, but if all that pain led you here… to me… then I can’t hate it.”
And then she kissed me like she already knew every broken part of me and wanted them all anyway. Her lips were soft but certain, trembling but brave. I cupped her face and kissed her back like it was a promise—one I didn’t know how to make, but somehow already had. Her fingers wound into my hair and pulled me down like gravity.
I poured everything I couldn’t say into that kiss—every ruined memory, every scar, every cracked piece of me she hadn’t run from.
Her tears finally spilled. I tasted salt between us, felt the way her breath hitched, her body shaking just enough for me to feel it.
When the kiss broke, her voice cracked. “I’m sorry I ever said anything about her. I thought she was someone you loved, and I hated the idea of her. I’m sorry. Truly. You know how I am. My mouth moves faster than my brain sometimes.”
I huffed a quiet laugh and brushed my thumb along her jaw. “That reckless mouth,” I said, grinning. “Starts fights. Gets you in trouble. Makes me want to ruin you every time you open it.”
I kissed her again—this time softer, slower, more playful. Her lips curled into a smile against mine, and I tasted the way she melted for me all over again.
25
Not Yet, Old Man
—Maksym—
The sun was already up when I forced myself to slide out of her bed.
Kira lay tangled in the sheets, her cheek pressed to the pillow, one leg stretched over to where I’d been. The soft rise and fall of her breath, the faint crease in her brow, the hint of a smile still ghosting on her lips—it all made me want to crawl right back in and pull her against me until the world burned down around us.
But I couldn’t. I’d already pushed the boundaries of what I could get away with. Too many eyes in this house. Too many ears. Staying too long in her room would be suicide.
I pulled on my shirt and boots, grabbed my jacket, and slipped out the door like a fucking thief. The hallway was quiet, the guards posted on rotation elsewhere. I moved quietly down the stairs and stepped outside, letting the cold air hit my face. By the time I reached the front drive near the estate’s gates, I caught sight of a familiar silhouette leaning against one of the stone columns that lined the main path.
Sashko had a cigarette between his lips and another already lit in his fingers.
“You’re late,” he said without turning around. “Judging by that face, I’d say the night went very well.”
I rolled my eyes and took the cigarette from his hand. “Easy there. That level of deduction might overheat that brain of yours.”
He smirked, blowing smoke into the chilly morning air. “You’re starting to look like a man who’s about to burn down the whole empire over one girl.”
I took a drag. “That obvious?”
“Only to people with eyes.” He glanced over, then gestured with his cigarette. “You know this shit’s going to explode, right? You sure that’s part of your grand plan?”
“Loosely,” I muttered. “I’m improvising.”
Sashko snorted. “Well, I hope your improvisation includes body armor. Because when Moscow retaliates, it won’t be subtle.”
I shrugged. “What’s life without a little near-death experience?”
“Man, remind me why I agreed to all this shit?” he muttered, tossing the spent cigarette onto the floor and grinding it out with his boot.
“Because drunk you got sentimental and promised me your heart and your bullets,” I replied. “And I take drunk confessions very seriously.”
Right on cue,like the universe couldn’t resist fucking with us—
A sharp growl of engines cut through the stillness like a blade. We turned at once, every muscle in my body snapping to alert. Tires screeched on the driveway’s stone pavers—fast, hard, too aggressive for anything routine. A convoy. But not the full one.
Only three black SUVs tore through the gates, and something in my gut twisted hard. The first vehicle skidded sideways into the courtyard, its side smeared with blood. One door flew open before the wheels even stopped, and a man leapt out, blood streaking his shirt.
