Page 54

A hand seized her arm from behind.

Kat spun, adrenaline spiking, her palm snapping toward his throat in a killing blow?—

Familiar fingers caught her wrist mid-strike.

Through the fog, she glimpsed his eyes.

“Leonid.” The word came out as a broken sob. Her knees nearly buckled with relief so sharp it was almost pain.

“Kat.” His hands framed her face, eyes fierce. “Talk to me.”

“I’m okay.” Her voice cracked. “I got it.”

“Then we run. Now.”

He tapped his earpiece. “Next time, Brock, maybe trigger the alarmbeforeshe nearly gets her wrist broken.”

He hauled her down the corridor, through swinging doors and into the chaos of the kitchen.

Staff scattered as the alarm wailed overhead, the room thick with confusion and the acrid scent of fire suppressant.

As they ran, one word echoed in her skull.

Katarina.

The way Korolov had said it—like he owned it. Like he’d use it to break her.

She gritted her teeth.

Let him savor it.

She had his secrets now, and that was power.

25

Leo staredout the window as the Bentley slid through London’s late-night traffic—its suspension smoothing away the city’s rough edges, but not the tension welded into his chest.

His right hand clamped his knee, fingers locked to keep from reaching for her. His pulse throbbed at his temples. Every breath drew in the scent of her—trace perfume, sweat, the acrid white dust from the fire system.

The mission had gone clean. He had the footage. Kat had the phone. They had what they came for.

But none of that mattered now.

She sat inches away, silent, his jacket draped around her shoulders. He sensed the tension coiling through her—or maybe it was just his own.

The privacy glass hid them from the driver, but it couldn’t insulate the charge between them—static before the strike.

He looked down. White powder covered the back of his hands, ghost-fine. He swiped powder from his wedding ring. A circle of gold that had been fiction only hours ago.

Now it seared his skin like molten metal, a promise he’d never dared make but couldn’t bring himself to break.

Reality narrowed to those final moments in the club. The tight twist of her body as she ran with him. Every second had broken something open in him.

He hadn’t let anyone this close in years.

But being with her, taking the risks together, had scraped him raw.

She wore his ring. They’d played at marriage, but the lie had come too easily. Now it didn’t feel like a lie at all.