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“Why did you help me when Vince and Hugo attacked me?” When Damien’s eyes snap to mine, I realize I asked the question out loud.
“Attack?” Alexei asks. “At the academy?”
I nod. “Vince had me drugged, and if Damien hadn’t stepped in…”
Alexei’s face turns to stone. “The Vetrovs and Koslovs will always protect those who are vulnerable. We don’t beat and rape women. They’re meant to be treasured.”
“So you won’t assassinate one?” I ask.
“Not one like your mother,” he answers. “I’d assassinate Sonia Terrero. Free of charge.”
Dana brings the food, and when I pick up my utensils, I realize Damien hasn’t answered me yet. Glancing at him, he slowly shakes his head at me, then he asks Alexei, “When will the men arrive?”
“Two days,” Alexei answers.
Lifting an interested eyebrow, I ask, “How many?”
“Six.”
A frown forms on my forehead. “So few.”
“My six men will be able to wipe out all your men,” Alexei explains. “They’re good, and we can’t fly a hundred people to Italy.”
“True,” I murmur.
“And the weapons?” Damien asks.
“Luca Cotroni will have them ready when we leave for Italy. He’s graciously offered his home to us while we’re there.”
“The Cotronis are your ally?”
“They are,” Alexei murmurs before taking a bite of his food.
Thank God. That’s good news.
The conversation hovers around the impending attack. When we’re done with dinner, I gather the plates and carry them to the kitchen. Just as I walk in, I see Dana wiping away her tears. I set the plates down on the table and walk to where she’s standing by the backdoor.
“Sorry,” she whispers, turning her face away from me.
I wrap an arm around her waist and stare out at the lights coming from the guards' houses.
“How did he die?” Dana suddenly asks.
I turn my gaze to hers. “Who?”
“Cillian.” Hearing the ache in her voice, I begin to frown.
Then I see the lost love in her eyes. “You loved him?”
I don’t know why I’m surprised. Dana’s beautiful with her black hair and blue eyes. And Cillian, he was attractive in his own way with a larger-than-life personality.
“Yes,” she admits, her voice thick with sorrow.
I pull her into a hug. “I’m sorry, Dana.” I rub my hand up and down her back. “He didn’t suffer long. He took a bullet to the chest.” My own sorrow rears its ugly head as I remember Cillian’s last moments. “Right before he took his last breath, he smiled that lopsided grin of his.”
She lets out a strangled sob, and clinging to me, she mourns the man she loved.
We pull away, and I gesture outside. “Want to go for a walk?”
Dana nods, and we step out into the dark.
“He loved you like a daughter,” she murmurs.
“I know.”
Dana takes hold of my hand, gripping it tightly. “At least I still have you.”
“You’ll always have me.”
She glances at me, then asks, “Mr. Vetrov… is he as good as the rumors say he is?”
The corner of my mouth lifts. “He’s better. He’ll be able to keep us safe.”
“I hope he’ll be a good husband, as well,” she whispers.
“He is,” I assure her.
“I’m glad.” I hear the relief in her voice, then she asks, “Will we stay here when everything is over?”
“Yes. I don’t see why we should move. We’ll still need the security, and all our memories are here.”
“Good, I was worried we’d have to move to Russia or America,” she confesses.
“If there comes a day we have to leave, will you come with me?” I ask.
“Always, Miss Winter. I’ll follow you to the ends of the world.”
We reach the shore, and I stare at the lights in the distance.
“Why do you love looking at the town?” Dana asks.
“It looks peaceful like a fairytale. I imagine everyone there is happily living normal lives. I was always jealous of them. Being able to walk in the streets without the worry of being assassinated. Having friends. Going to parties and on dates.”
“Now I understand,” she murmurs. “You never had any of that. I’m sorry, Miss Winter.”
“It’s okay. I had Cillian. I wouldn’t change my time with him for any of that.”
And I’d give everything if only I could turn back time and stop him from dying.
I feel Damien, but again I can’t hear anything. Glancing over my shoulder, I see his shadow next to a tree, silently guarding us while we grieve Cillian.
“He loved his baked beans on toast. Had it every day,” Dana reminisces.
Knowing she needs to talk about him, I ask, “Did he know you loved him?”
She nods then her mouth curves up. “Every night, after tucking you in bed, he would come to me. You were more ours, than your parents. Our daughter.”
After a moment of silence, Dana lets out a sigh. “Let’s go back before they come looking for you.”
I let out a chuckle. “Too late.” As we turn around, Damien steps out of the shadows. He nods at Dana before holding his hand out to me.
