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“No. I'm more concerned about you.”

The whetstone sings against steel as I drag the blade across it. “Don't be.”

“Erik.” The way he says my name—part command, part concern—reminds me of our father. “Your focus is compromised.”

“My focus is perfect.” Each word drops like ice. “The mission comes first. Always has.”

“Then why are you sharpening a blade that could already split hairs?”

I set the knife down, fighting the urge to throw it. “Natasha's safety depends on this exchange going smoothly. I'm preparing.”

“This isn't about Natasha.” Nikolai steps closer. “It's about the Lebedev woman.”

My jaw clenches so tight my teeth might crack. “Her name is Katarina.”

“You can't keep her.”

Something dark and territorial roars inside me. My hands curl into fists at my sides.

“We need peace with the Petrovs more than we need your... whatever this is.” Nikolai's voice softens. “She was never meant to stay.”

But she fits here with me. The thought flashes through my mind before I can extinguish it.

“The car leaves at 11:30.” I turn away from him. “I'll be ready.”

I slam my bedroom door and lean against it, letting my head fall back with a dull thud. The silence mocks me.

Three hours, forty-seven minutes.

This compound used to be my sanctuary. Now, it's haunted by her. Every corner holds Katarina's ghost, and I can't escape her.

I push away from the door and pace the empty room. My bed—where she slept next to me, where I felt her warmth againstmy chest—looks cold now. Sterile. The sheets were changed, but I swear I can still smell her perfume.

Down the hall, the bathroom door stands partially open. She showered there. Naked. Water cascaded down her body while I watched, wanting her with an intensity that nearly broke me. I slam the door shut as I pass.

The compound was meant to be my space. My fortress. The one place where I could let my guard down, away from the constant vigilance required outside these walls. Now, every room has been infiltrated by memories of her.

The kitchen where she leaned against the counter, defiant even as a prisoner. The gym where she worked out her frustrations until sweat glistened on her skin. The library where I found her lost in a book, her mind temporarily free even while her body remained captive.

My footsteps echo through the empty corridor as I walk without a destination. This place was mine before her. I chose the security systems. Designed the training room to my specifications. Selected each weapon in the armory.

Now, it's contaminated with feelings I never wanted to have. Weakness I can't afford.

I pass the spot where she stood during the security breach, her brilliant mind working in tandem with mine to stop the attack. Her fingers flying across the keyboard, eyes bright with intelligence and purpose.

The security office. The library. The kitchen. My room. All tainted.

I stop at the window overlooking the compound grounds. This used to feel like home. The only home I truly claimed for myself after leaving Russia.

Now, it's just another prison. Not for her anymore—for me.

A soft pad of feet behind me catches my attention. I don't turn. Don't need to. My body recognizes her presence beforemy mind does—a soldier's instinct perverted into something else entirely.

Katarina.

“You shouldn't be here.” My voice sounds foreign. Too hollow.

She stops several feet away. Close enough that I can smell her shampoo, far enough that we don't risk touching. Smart girl.