“You don’t make sense,” he said after a moment.
Lena let out a short breath, somewhere between a laugh and frustration.
“Trust me,” she muttered.“I’m starting to think the same about you.”
The air between them shifted, just slightly.It was as if there was a change between them, a small crack perhaps.Lena picked up the bloodied cloth, her hands slower now, her mind catching up to what had just happened.
She had helped him, despite his flaws, and he let her.Maksim had trusted her, in his own way.She didn’t know what that meant, or what to do with it.
So she focused on the simple things instead, like cleaning up and putting distance back between them.Still, even as she stepped away, she could feel it lingering.
That momentary shift, like something fragile had been placed between them, unspoken and dangerous, and neither of them quite knew what to do with it.
Chapter Five
Maksim sat alone inthe safehouse living room, a glass of vodka resting loose in his hand.
The room was dim, the single lamp casting a low amber glow across worn walls and uneven shadows.The place had never been meant for comfort.It was a stopgap, a place to disappear into when necessary.
It was functional yet temporary, and yet now it felt occupied.He dropped his gaze to his side, to the clean bandage wrapped around his ribs.The fabric was stark against his skin, too neat, too careful for the kind of life he lived.
Lena’s work.He ran his fingers lightly over the edge of it, testing the tension.It held firm, and there was no infection or sloppiness.She had known what she was doing.That, in itself, was surprising.
She hadn’t needed to help him.He exhaled slowly, bringing the glass to his lips.The vodka burned on the way down, sharp and familiar, grounding.
She should have taken the opportunity to run.He had been weakened, and he moved much slower.Hell, he was off-balance in a way he rarely allowed.A single well-placed strike, a moment of hesitation, and she could have tried to run.
She had seen the door mechanism, and she had seen him bleed.Instead, she had told him to sit.
Maksim tightened his jaw.It didn’t make sense.Most people, in her position, reacted predictably.Fear led to desperation, and desperation led to reckless choices.
Lena had chosen something else, something inconvenient.He leaned back in the chair, glass resting against his knee now, gaze drifting toward the closed bedroom door down the hall.
She was in there, sleeping—he had checked once already.He didn’t know why.Maksim let out a quiet breath, irritation flickering through him at the thought.
She was certainly a complication, one he had to deal with sooner or later.
