No matter what happens, he stands there like an unmoving mountain, forever in control and unperturbed. It’s almost inhuman. I wish I could see the version of him where, according to Karina, Anna, and even Rai, he was a ghost of himself after I was gone.
I wish I could stop trembling when he touches me.
I wish I could…just make him disappear and not miss him.
“Why didn’t you tell me about Makar?” he asks instead of answering my earlier question.
“Why is it important?”
“Let me think. Because of the fact that I have a fucking traitor in my ranks? Thanks to you, he might’ve already fled.”
“So it’s my fault now?”
“Just stop it. Stop trying to invent a fight and drive a deeper wedge between us. For once, stop fucking running.”
Easier said than done when my flight trigger is awakened. In fact, all I want to do is run into the middle of an unfamiliar, faraway place, as long as I’m not in his immediate vicinity.
His merciless grip is the only thing keeping me in place, and he seems to recognize that, too, because he tightens his arm around my waist.
I don’t know if it’s the added pressure of his touch or the fact that a foolish part of me is starting to believe him, but my fight slowly wanes until I can barely sense it.
Tension lingers in the air even as my fist tries to push at him. It’s my last desperate attempt to keep some distance between us.
He squeezes my hand, but it’s not meant to crush my fingers as I would expect. It’s more like he’s demanding my attention. “Work with me, not against me.”
“Or else what?”
“Why do you need the or else, Sasha? You think I don’t see your feeble attempts at provoking me? You’re wishing for me to give you an ultimatum again so you can convince yourself that hating me is the right thing. I’m sorry to burst your delusional bubble, but that won’t be happening.”
The asshole.
Can’t he be less perceptive?
“You’ve already given me an ultimatum by imprisoning Anton.”
“That’s because if I gave you the choice, you’d run away again, and I can’t bear to be separated from my wife.”
“Stop saying things like that.”
“Like what? That you’re my wife, Mrs. Morozova?”
I feel heat rising within me and the unconscious loosening of my muscles. I’m losing the battle again.
You can’t, Sasha.
If you trust him again, you’ll end up being hurt. This time, you won’t be able to pick yourself back up.
But even as I tell myself those words, I’m not confident I can hate him forever either. Hell, I haven’t been able to hate him ever since I found out Kristina married Konstantin and he was the one who plotted it.
A rustle comes from off to the side, but I could barely hear it over the heartbeat that pounds in my ears.
Kirill, however, is more alert. He subtly releases my hand that’s on his chest and reaches beneath his jacket for his weapon.
I finally snap out of it and do the same, then whisper, “Is it Viktor?”
“No. I sent him home.”
“What? Who’s going to drive us back?”
“We were never supposed to return tonight.” He studies our surroundings. “We have unwelcome company. Three of them. One is in the tree behind you, another is behind me, and the third is northwest of the first. There could be more.”
I swallow. Please tell me these aren’t men my uncle sent. I told him not to interfere, but he and especially Babushka have never listened to me.
Besides, this has to do with their precious heir, Anton, after all.
“Go north.” Kirill’s voice interrupts my thoughts, and then he taps a few times on his watch. “I just sent you the coordinates of the cabin we’re spending the night in. I think they followed us, so they don’t know about the cabin’s location, but if by any chance it appears they do, run as fast as you can.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll stop them and join you at the cabin.”
“You think I’ll let you do that on your own?”
“I mean it, Sasha, go.”
“And I mean it, Kirill. I don’t need your protection.”
“You—”
“Let’s lose them by going separate ways,” I say, and without waiting for his reply, I head east.
I can hear him curse before he runs in the opposite direction.
Before I can find a safe location, I sense light footsteps closing in on me. I swing to the side, then shoot and miss.
Shit.
I need to only take calculative hits. Otherwise, I’ll run out of ammunition and put myself in a deadly position.
They shoot at me, but I manage to duck and hide behind a tree.
If they’re shooting to kill, they couldn’t have been sent by my family, right? At least, I hope they’re not trying to eliminate me.
Though that’s a huge possibility if they think I went back to Kirill.
Damn it.
I catch my breath, hold my gun with both hands, and slowly peek around the tree.
That’s weird. While I was fast, they probably are, too, so where are they?
All of a sudden, a doomsday-like feeling ticks in my head and I look back just in time to see a black-clad figure staring at me. I shoot him right before he kills me.
Blood splatters on my face as he hits the ground in front of me.
I don’t have time to check his identity since other footsteps are approaching me. So I take note of his weapon and run deeper into the forest.
In the meantime, I manage to exchange bullets with one of my pursuers.
It isn’t until I’m far into the thick trees that I manage to kill the second.
But I keep running, suspecting a third to be close behind.
If that’s the case, what about Kirill?
Once I make sure no one is hot on my trail, I check the location he sent me. I’m twenty minutes away from the cabin, which I can get to without going back through the forest.
I spent approximately thirty minutes in the cat-and-mouse chase with the second one. It’d be easier to meet Kirill at the cabin rather than go back to the forest and risk being shot.
Especially since I have only one bullet left.
I reach the cabin in record time. It’s located in the mountains, surrounded by trees for as far as the eye can see.
Instead of heading inside, I do a tour of the entire property, my finger on the trigger.
Fortunately, Kirill was right and they don’t seem to know about the place.
One problem, though. I don’t have the key. I try under the mat and beneath the porch, but I end up finding it in one of the flowerpots lining the steps.
After I’m inside, I release a breath, but I still track the cozy-looking area in case there’s an uninvited guest. Once I’m sure I’m the only one here, I lean against the back of the sofa and call Kirill. It goes straight to voicemail.
Fuck.
I pace the length of the cottage. He’s okay. It’s Kirill, after all. Those guys couldn’t get him.
Unless he was ambushed.
Maybe the two who followed me were a red herring and the actual army is out for Kirill’s life.
Shit.
Shit.
The longer I call him and he doesn’t pick up, the harder my heart beats.
I completely forget why I want him out of the picture or that if he’s gone, I’ll finally be free of him.