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The door handle turns, and Dr. Lebedev instantly transforms back into the hulking, accent-heavy physician, as he snaps his medical bag shut.

“All done,” he announces loudly as the female guard peers in. “Patient healthy. I go now. You bring chair.”

With trembling fingers, I shove the gun between my breasts, the cold metal pressing against my skin as I tuck it into the built-in bra of Victor's gifted dress.

The female guard marches in. She doesn't speak as she begins collapsing the stirrups. I back away, pressing myself against the far wall, willing my heartbeat to slow as the gun shifts against my skin.

She wheels the chair toward the door, metal legs squeaking against marble floors. The sound grates against my raw nerves, but I maintain my composure, keeping my expression blank as she exits. The door closes with a definitive click, followed by the unmistakable sound of a lock engaging.

Alone at last.

My watch vibrates against my wrist with insistent urgency. I lift it to eye level, my breath catching as I read the scrolling message.

OPEN BALCONY DOOR. - O

My heart pounds against the cold metal of the gun as I move toward the doors. I unlatch them, the cool night air rushing in as I push them open. The Petrov estate stretches below me, manicured gardens illuminated by strategic lighting that leaves few places for concealment.

I step onto the balcony, scanning the shadows for any sign of Oscar. The floor is cold beneath my bare feet, a quiet reminder of my vulnerability. The diamond ring on my finger catches the moonlight, scattering fractured rainbows across the marble balustrade.

“Up here.”

The words come from above. I tilt my head back to see Oscar perched on the roof overhang, his dark clothing blending with the night sky. He moves with feline grace, dropping silently to the balcony beside me.

“Are you hurt?” His eyes scan my body, lingering on the bruises forming around my wrist. “I heard Dmitri’s voice.”

“I'm fine,” I lie. How did you?—”

“Later,” he cuts me off, glancing behind us. “We have three minutes before the security sweep reaches this section.”

His fingers brush my cheek, the gentleness of his touch nearly undoing my fragile composure.

“I wish I could stay.” His thumb traces the edge of the bruise forming on my wrist.

I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Z?”

“Z was losing his shit when he heard what happened. We practically had to restrain him.”

“What else is new?” I manage a weak smile, trying to inject lightness I don't feel. “Tell me he's not planning to storm Victor's bedroom with guns blazing.”

"Worse. Had they not disarmed us, this would have been over much faster," Oz's expression hardens. “Talon's with him now, keeping him from doing anything stupid. But we need to move fast.”

I reach between my breasts, withdrawing the gun. “My grandfather's doctor slipped me this. He's apparently been working for Mikhail all along.”

“Victor's being played from all sides.” A grim smile touches his lips. “Good. We can use that. He reaches into his jacket, pulling out the signal jammer. “Talon didn’t get a chance to leave this. Contact your grandfather, insist that he bring your brother and Alex tomorrow. Everything else is in place.”

A distant sound makes him tense. His head whips toward the garden below as he spots movement among the hedges.

“Security patrol. I've stayed too long already.”

My heart clenches at the thought of being alone again in this gilded prison. I grab his arm, suddenly desperate. “Oscar, I?—”

He pulls me against him, cutting off my words with a kiss that's both tender and fierce. His lips move against mine with urgent passion, saying everything words cannot. He pulls away against both of our wishes. “Be brave, just a little bit longer, solnishko. Tomorrow ends this nightmare.”

Before I can respond, he’s gone—swinging over the balcony edge with fluid grace. I rush forward, gripping the cold railing as I watch his silhouette descend the building’s intricate exterior. He disappears into the neatly trimmed topiaries below, vanishing without a trace.

The night air feels colder without him. I retreat into my room, closing the balcony doors behind me.

Tomorrow ends this nightmare. The gun presses against my skin, cold and reassuring as I cross the room.