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“No time,” she snaps, her tactical training evident as she stealthily peers around the corner of the room. “We need to get to the safe room in the basement. Let’s go.”
I follow her down the long hallway that leads towards the basement, sticking close to her side. An eerie silence has fallen. Maybe this is all a dream. We’re inches from reaching the basement when another explosion thunders behind us, its shock wave accompanied by a blinding flash of light. The house shudders, as if its very foundation is quaking.
Terror grips me as chaos descends. Arms wrap around me from behind, jerking me to a stop. “Kira!” I yell, but someone has her too—a nameless, faceless man in a mask. I’m dragged out of the house, flailing and fighting the entire time until my captor shoves a sharp object into my ribs and hisses a warning to stop resisting.
I don’t listen, because I know this is it. If I don’t fight with every fiber of my being, I’m as good as dead.
One thought emerges above all others.
Leo.
And despite everything—his betrayal, the secrets and lies—the idea of never being wrapped up in his strong arms, never feeling the warmth of his gaze, is something I can’t bear.
So I fight.
I fight until I can’t fight anymore.
Until the world fades to black.
CHAPTERTHIRTY
7 YEARS AGO
ALYONA
The room smellslike a mix of antiseptic and stale air, the heavy scent of sickness clinging to every surface. The walls seem to close in on me, suffocating and oppressive. I look at my mother’s frail form in her bed, her once proud self now reduced to a mere shadow.
How did it get so bad?
Since Papa’s death, Mama has been on a slow, heartbreaking slide, lost in a fog of grief and narcotics. Along with the doctor and shrinks, I’ve tried to help her, but it feels like a losing battle. Truthfully, there was always something inside her that seemed restless and unhappy. I couldn’t place it as a little girl, but I knew it was there, periods of melancholy and depression when she couldn’t get out of bed.
I sit at her bedside, her cold, trembling hand in mine. Her skin is sallow, stretched tight over her bones and her gaze is unfocused. It got so bad that I called Yulian to come home. He’s still completing his training in Russia, but I need his help. She can’t go on like this.
“Yulian is flying back from Russia. Pakhan and Andrei, too. They’ll be here by morning,” I assure her.
Her eyes, usually glazed over from the sedatives, are suddenly too sharp and clear. “Russia! No, not Russia. Alyona. You need to stay away from there.”
I squeeze my mother’s hand, trying to bring her back to the here and now. My parents are from Russia, they only moved stateside when Mama was pregnant with me. I’ve suspected her home country holds bad memories for her. “I’m not going there, trust me. But Yulian went there for his training.”
Something has agitated her, and she attempts to sit up. “Your father… Alyona, you need to be careful of him. Stay away from Russia.”
I blink back tears, biting my lip. It’s difficult to hear her speak so poorly about the husband she lost, the man she never really recovered from losing. “Mama,” I say softly, trying to keep my voice steady. “Papa’s not here anymore. You know that.”
“Please listen to me,” she insists, clutching my hand with surprising strength. “You need to be careful.”
Her words send chills down my spine. What is she talking about? Her warning doesn’t make sense, and I wonder how deeply the narcotics have messed with her mind. “You’re… confused,” I say, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Everything is fine.”
She shakes her head. “I’m so sorry, Alyona. So sorry.” Her words sound so genuine and desperate, it breaks something inside of me.
I lean in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “Go to sleep, Mama. You’ll see your son soon.”
She gives me one more pleading stare before her eyes flutter closed, and the room is filled with an unbearable silence.
* * *
Light streamsinto the training room, casting streaks of buttery sunshine that highlight the play of muscles in Leo’s broad shoulders and chiseled back. I lean against the back wall, the rhythmic thud of his fists striking against the heavy bag filling the space. It’s hypnotic, a beautiful dance of precision and force, but that’s Leo. He wields his power carefully, almost gently. And he’s sexy as all get-out when he does.
The sex lessons have evolved into something much deeper. Although we’ve both danced around the topic, the intensity between us is palpable. The truth is, I’m desperately in love with him. But ultimately, that doesn’t matter.
