Page 51

I swallow hard, my fingers gripping the torn leather seat beneath me. “Who?”
Mikhail doesn’t answer right away. His jaw clenches, his gaze flicking to the side mirror, scanning the darkened street.
“Alexei,” he mutters darkly. “Or someone working for him.”
My stomach lurches. I don’t understand the full depth of Mikhail’s war, but I know the name Alexei. I’ve heard whispers. I’ve seen the tension in Mikhail’s shoulders every time Torres brings him up. Whoever this man is, he’s powerful enough to come for Mikhail directly.
Mikhail moves toward the door, his grip tightening on his gun. “Stay here,” he orders again. “Don’t move until I come back for you.”
Then he’s gone. The door slams behind him, and just like that, I’m alone.
Silence fills the car, broken only by the distant crackling of flames and the ringing in my ears. I exhale shakily, my pulse erratic, my thoughts scattered.
And then?—
My phone buzzes.
I look down, my breath catching as I see the screen light up.
A text from my mom:
Now’s your chance.
The words send a jolt of adrenaline through me. I stare at them, my hands trembling, my pulse thundering in my ears.
Now’s my chance.
To run.
To get out.
I glance through the shattered windshield, my gaze locking on Mikhail’s dark silhouette as he moves down the street, gun raised, his focus elsewhere.
I can feel it in my bones—this moment, right now, is the only window I’ll get.
My mother has a plan. She’s waiting for me.
I can do this.
But then I think about Mikhail’s voice, low and commanding, telling me to stay. I think about the way he shielded me when the car spun out of control, the way he put his body between me and danger. I think about the way he looked at me before everything exploded. The heat in his eyes. The fire between us.
I suck in a sharp breath.
Run, Lila. Now.
My pulse is a war drum in my ears. My breath is shallow, my chest tight, my whole body thrumming with the weight of a decision I can’t take back.
Now’s your chance.
I look at the text one last time, my fingers trembling, my mind screaming at me to move.
Because if I’m pregnant—if Mikhail has already left something of himself inside me—then this is my last chance.
Once Mikhail finds out, I’ll never get away.
I shove the phone into the folds of my dress, my heartbeat a frantic thing against my ribs. I move carefully, shifting toward the door, my muscles tense and ready.
Outside, Mikhail is gone, his focus on the threat lurking in the shadows. The men who pulled up behind us—his men—are stepping out of their vehicles, their attention fixed on their boss, their weapons drawn.