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Boris rolls to his back, coughing up blood as he stares at me pleadingly. I crouch beside him, gripping his throat in my gloved hand tightly. He gags, face purpling.
"Your last mistake was forgetting one thing, old man," I growl, squeezing tighter. His eyes bulge in panic.
I lean down close, our faces inches apart. "She is mine. And I protect what is mine."
With that, I twist sharply. The crack of his neck snapping echoes in the silence. His bulging eyes stare sightlessly at the ceiling. It is finished. And I’m disappointed in myself. I wanted to make him suffer more, longer—perhaps for days. Or weeks.
Panting, I straighten slowly. Dmitri waits by the door, solemn understanding in his eyes as he nods. Natalia is safe. I roll my shoulders, steadying my breath before I turn to her.
She's curled in a corner, still bound and blindfolded, sobbing. With measured steps, I approach and crouch before her. Gently I remove the gag, then the blindfold. Her teary eyes stare up at me. Relief floods those depths, but I see lingering fear.
I smooth back her disheveled hair. "Shhh. You're safe now, golubushka.”
Keeping my movements slow, I cut away the ropes at her wrists and ankles. She launches herself into my arms and I wrap her in a crushing embrace. Her slim body trembles against me. I bury my face in her hair, breathing her in, reassuring myself she's here and unharmed.
After long moments, I lean back to study her face critically, checking for any sign of severe injury. Seeing only emerging bruises and raw wrists, I exhale and draw her close again.
"I was so afraid," she finally whispers shakily into my neck.
"I know. I've got you now."
I scoop her up easily and carry her past Dmitri and the others waiting stoically over Boris's body. She hides her face in my shoulder as I stride toward the door. No one hinders our departure.
Finally outside, I gently set Natalia down and wrap my suit jacket around her shoulders. Her face is still pale, eyes haunted. I scoop her into my arms again and carry her to the waiting SUV.
Safe. Mine. Always.
The city lights streak by as I focus grimly on the road ahead while holding Natalia on my lap. My knuckles ache where they split against Boris's face, but I barely feel it. Natalia is quiet, leaning into me.
When we turn at last through the iron gates of the estate, relief courses through me. I carry Natalia straight upstairs, but instead of the Jasmine Suite, I take her to my room and place her on my bed, where she’ll be sleeping from now on. Our bed.
I deposit her gently amid the pillows and blankets and stroke back her tangled hair.
“Don’t leave me, Viktor.” She clutches my hand, panic lacing her voice.
"Rest now, sweet girl. You're home. I’m not going anywhere.”
Those lovely eyes hold mine for a long moment before fluttering closed in utter exhaustion. I remain by her side, watching the steady rise and fall of her breathing as she sleeps. Never again will I allow her to be taken from me.
CHAPTER 11
Natalia
I wake slowly, cocooned in soft blankets that smell faintly of Viktor. For a blissful moment, I forget the horrors of the past days. Then it all comes flooding back—the abduction, Boris's cruelty, dangling helplessly outside the penthouse window on a ledge... A shudder wracks my body at the memories.
Strong arms wrap around me from behind and I jolt before relaxing into Viktor's embrace. His solid warmth and spicy, masculine scent surround me. I'm safe.
"Shhh, I've got you," Viktor murmurs against my hair.
His calloused fingers trail soothingly along my arm and I cling to him, the lingering fear dissipating. We lay silently as moonlight light filters through the curtains. I've never felt more cherished than in this moment, more protected.
Eventually he shifts onto his back, positioning me so I'm draped over his bare chest. His heart thuds steadily beneath my palm. I trace the jagged scars and Bratva tattoos marking his skin.
"What will happen now?" I ask quietly.
His hand strokes my back lazily. "Now that Boris is dead, I will take his place as pakhan." His tone holds no triumph, only weary resignation.
I prop my chin on his chest to study his solemn face. Does he even want leadership over the brotherhood, given all it has cost him?
