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New headlights cut through the darkness above.

I tried to call out, to beg them to go after Pavel, but no sound came.

My throat was raw from smoke and terror.

A massive figure came charging toward the wreckage, his face a mask of barely contained violence.

CHAPTER 36

ALINA

"Who are you?" I asked, pressing myself back into the seat.

He looked dangerous—bigger and darker than the Ivanovs I knew, but there was something familiar in the sharp angles of his face.

"I'm Roman, Pavel's cousin."

His eyes were dark, almost black, but his voice carried that same commanding authority I recognized from Pavel's family.

Those dark eyes swept over the crushed car—then over me.

Cold calculation.

Like he was assessing whether I could still be saved.

Finally, they locked onto mine.

"Where did they take him?"

Despite his intimidating size and the aura of violence that clung to him like a second skin, something about his protective urgency made me trust him.

I pointed toward where they'd disappeared.

"Do you know who they were?"

I shook my head before a sob escaped my lips. "You have to get him back. He's going to be a father. I need him back. I can't do this without him."

Roman's jaw tightened, a muscle ticking as he bit out a curse.

He moved around to my side of the car and tore the door completely off its hinges.

I flinched as metal screeched and gave way. He’d torn the door clean off—like it was nothing.

His hands framed my face, grip firm but surprisingly gentle as he tilted my chin, examining the damage.

There was something lethal in his stillness, like a predator deciding whether to strike.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, his voice deceptively quiet. This was probably as close to gentle as a man like him could manage.

I swallowed hard, unsure how to answer when my entire world had just been ripped apart.

"Pavel—"

"I know." His expression turned murderous. "I'm going after him. But first, I need to make sure you're okay. I'm not rescuing him just to have him put a bullet in my head for abandoning you."

"I'm fine," I said, struggling to sit up and fumbling with my seat belt.

He gave me a curt nod before straightening and drawing a gun from his coat, checking the chamber with the fluid precision of a man who lived by violence.

When those dark eyes found mine again, my own desperation was reflected there.

"You're his now. That makes you family. And no one fucking touches what belongs to the Ivanovs."

I stood by the wreckage, one hand clutching torn pieces of Pavel's shirt, the other pressed protectively over my stomach.

Please, God. Bring him back to me. To us.

to be continued…