Page 121

I’ll never forget the sight.
Zasha steps beside me. His eyes don’t leave me. “You’re safe now.”
I nod, but all I want is to hold Maksim. “Please take me to my son.”
His expression softens, and I see something behind it. Regret. Relief. Love.
He opens his arms. I don’t hesitate.
He pulls me in, wraps me tight, and for the first time in what feels like years—I let go. The tears fall fast and hot down my cheeks, soaking into his shoulder.
He lifts me without effort, like I weigh nothing, like I’m everything.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs.
I close my eyes and believe it.
45
Chapter 36
Zasha
As soon as Maksim sees his mother, he bolts forward, with arms flailing, and bare feet slapping against the floorboards as he races into her.
She doesn’t brace herself.
She drops to her knees before he even reaches her, arms stretched out, eyes wide with disbelief and a love so raw it steals the breath right out of my lungs.
He crashes into her, nearly knocking her backward with the force of his hug. She curls around him like a shield, burying her face into his hair, her hands clutching his little back as if anchoring herself to reality. His fingers fist into the fabric of herbloodstained clothes, and the boy makes a soft noise—half sob, half relief.
I stay back.
I watch it unfold like I’m outside my own body, like my soul’s not ready to witness something this pure after all the blood I’ve spilled tonight.
Mara’s shoulders are shaking. I can see her jaw trembling, and her lips brushing against the boy’s temple as she mumbles something, and he babbles back in Spanish.
The knot in my throat is a slow, hot burn. Mara lifts her eyes. She looks over Maksim’s head, straight at me.
“Thank you,” she mouths.
I step forward and pull her into my arms, careful not to cause her more pain. I kiss the top of her head and pull back to look into her eyes.
“Why didn’t you….” I start to ask about Maksim, but the sobs coming from her make me stop.
I slide my hand gently to her back. My voice is low, raw with something I don’t know how to name. “It’s all over now,” I murmur. “You’re safe. Both of you. And I’ll make damn sure nothing like this ever happens again.”
Her tear-filled eyes open, and when she looks at me, I know something’s still wrong. The sorrow in her gaze doesn’t let me breathe. It cuts straight through the adrenaline and the fleeting peace I thought I’d earned tonight.
“Thank you,” she whispers, voice cracked and broken. “For rescuing us both.”
I nod, not trusting my voice.
“But we’re not the only ones in danger.”
The words hang in the air like smoke.
She shifts her gaze from me to Viktor, then Lev, then the other men standing around the room—Roman, Yuri, Anton, and the rest of our Bratva crew. No one says a word. No one moves. We know that tone. We’ve heard it too many times.