Page 26

My eyes fluttered open with a slight pang at the back of my head. My body ached all over, and my eyes were heavy with blurry vision. A subtle groan escaped my lips as I finally came to, eyelids blinking, my vision clearing by the second.

I was still a little disoriented, a faint whisper ringing in my ear as I massaged the back of my head. My brain had yet to remember the incident that led me here, and my foggy thoughts were a tangled mess.

Then it hit me—the rapid gunfire.

My breath lodged in my throat, my eyes widening as my heart hammered in my chest, pounding like a drum. The last thing I remembered was Daniel shoving me over the table in his office immediately after those gunmen had invaded the room.

I recalled how I lay on the floor, helpless, shuddering, hands over my ears as bullets pelted the space, striking anything in their paths. The sound of gunshots was deafening, inflicting absolute fear into me while I lay there, shaking a leaf.

Daniel, alone, had fought back, protecting his territory, his form a rapid blur of movement. I remembered the wails that filled the air, the sickening sounds of bones cracking and flesh tearing. It was one man against, what? An army? I didn’t have the time to count the number of armed assailants, considering how busy I was trying to remain hidden.

It didn’t matter how many those men were; it was not a fair fight, but Daniel was fierce, strong, and fast. The little glimpse of the battle I caught was both scary and fascinating. I’d seen Daniel throwing heavy punches and nerve-shattering kicks at his opponents. I watched him break bones like mere twigs, his skull-crushing blows sending his enemies to the ground.

Blood spilled, staining the walls and floors as my husband—my protector, defending our home—fought back like a mighty man of valor. He was a beast, a ravaging animal, completely out of control. But the more he killed them, the more others came barging in.

One of them had walked straight to me, lifting me off the floor, and when I tried to resist, he struck the back of my neck. And just like that, I passed out. Oblivious to whatever happened next.

Now, here I was, in bed, facing a rather familiar ceiling. I looked around, drinking in the opulent and cozy interior. This was our bedroom—mine and Daniel’s.

What’s going on here? I wondered, sitting on the edge of the bed, feet on the cool marble floor.

Daniel. Oh, God, Daniel!

My eyes widened, my pulse quickening.

Before that man knocked me out, I had seen Daniel struggling beneath one of the attackers, who was pressing a knife against his face. Did he survive? Did Ilya and Liam win this battle, and had the mansion been taken over?

The mere thought of never seeing Daniel again charged my tear glands, my chest heaving as I refused to accept the idea. No. Daniel wasn’t a man to go down so easily. It was like the more I tried to convince myself that his death wasn’t possible, the more doubt crept into my heart.

The attack was so sudden, and he was the only one against all those armed men. What were the odds that he had emerged triumphant in the end? Ilya must have moved up the timetable. According to him, Daniel was supposed to be dead by tomorrow, meaning we were still supposed to have some time before the attack. Or maybe this was what he meant all along, but I didn’t understand it earlier.

I heard the front door open, and my heart sank. I looked around the room for anything to use as a makeshift weapon. With a swift move, I dashed into the closet and picked up a heel from my collection of footwear—the one with the sharpest edge. By the time I returned to the room, the front door was open, and a figure stood by the entrance, their form shrouded by the darkness of the hallway.

“Stay back!” I warned, raising the heel over my head, ready to strike with a cautious hand held out in front of me. “Stay back, or I swear, I’ll bury this in your head,” I added, my tone laced with determination and venom.

“Somehow, I don’t doubt that,” his familiar voice replied as the figure stepped out of the shadows.

My eyes narrowed, a sense of relief washing over me. It was him—he was alive. “Daniel!” His name fell from my lips, my gaze fixed on his form.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he teased, his tone mild and gentle.

His shirt was stained with blood—some of it dried, some of it fresh—and his knuckles were raw and bruised. But it was his eyes that unnerved me the most. They held a depth I’d never seen before—something dark, something exhausted, something almost…broken.

The heel dropped from my hand, and I stood there, watching him in silence, eyes roaming his exhausted body, wonder flickering in their depths. “How…how are you…?” I stuttered, struggling to fathom the fact that he was actually here, standing in front of me.

His lips curled into a faint grin as he closed the distance between us, his hand caressing the hair that framed my face. “I’m a hard man to kill, printsessa ,” he said, his breath warm against my face.

I hesitated for a moment, holding his gaze, watching the glint of pain he tried to mask. This wasn’t physical pain. No. It was grief. “And Ilya?” I asked, my heart pounding in anticipation of his response.

Daniel paused, his expression flat and devoid of emotion. “He left me with no choice,” he said, blinking a few times as if to hold back whatever he was feeling. “I had to do what I had to.”

I swallowed hard against the dryness in my throat, watching the way his shoulders slumped, a rare hint of vulnerability flashing in his gaze.

Ilya was dead. I knew that for sure, and that was the reason for Daniel’s grief. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what he must be feeling right now—the hurt, the pain of betrayal, and the tough call he had to make. As heartless and monstrous as Daniel was, I bet killing Ilya was one of the hardest decisions he’d ever had to make.

“He was my most trusted man—the only one who knew everything about me,” Daniel added, his voice heavy with pain. “He wasn’t just my lieutenant…. He was my brother. He was family.” He paused with a tightly clenched jaw.

Daniel had never struck me as one to talk about his feelings, and now that he’d shown me a glimpse of his soft side, I was speechless. I literally had nothing to say.

I stepped forward, throwing my hands around his neck in a warm embrace, my body pressing against him in a silent offering of comfort.

At first, he was hesitant, his frame rigid and unyielding. Then, slowly, his hands sprang up, grabbing my waist tightly and pulling me closer as if seeking deeper contact. He leaned down, burying his face into the curve of my neck, and I felt his uneven breaths against my skin, the weight of everything he’d just done pressing down on him.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered with a tone laced with sincerity, my palm caressing the back of his neck.

Daniel pulled back to look into my eyes, the darkness in his slowly disappearing. “Don’t be,” he said, his voice rough and low. “Ilya made his choice, and I made mine.”

There was no regret in his voice. There was only pain— the pain of Ilya’s betrayal that had cut deeper than Daniel would care to admit.

We stood there in the warm, golden lights of the hanging chandeliers, holding onto each other—not with words, not with promises. But with the unspoken truth that, despite everything, despite the blood and the violence and the past that should have torn us apart, we still chose each other. And neither of us was letting go.

His strong and gentle hands, once possessive, now wrapped protectively around my waist, securing me like a precious jewel. I melted in his arms, feeling safe and secure—untouchable.

***

A few days had passed since the incident that was orchestrated to tear us apart actually brought us closer together. Things had been good so far. Daniel and I were recovering, mending the physical and mental mess caused by Ilya’s betrayal.

The process was slow, but we were making progress, and the most important thing was that we had each other. It was me and him against the world. I was with Daniel every step of the way, his wife in every sense of the word.

I was no longer ashamed to be a Tarasov, no longer in search of ways to escape this place. I’d finally come to terms with my reality, and I’d accepted my fate. However, there was one thing that I’d yet to admit to myself: my growing feelings for Daniel Tarasov.

The reason for my holding back was still unclear to me. But maybe it was because I wasn’t ready to face this particular truth yet. Confessing those three little words would change everything. From the look of things, it would be a good change, considering how far Daniel and I had come. But I hadn’t summoned the courage yet. Besides, there was still one more thing that I wanted to discuss with my husband: the release of my father.

That fateful morning, I was reading a book in the master bedroom when a knock on the door stole my attention. I shot a quick glance toward the entrance where Sofiya stood, a sly grin playing on her lips.

“Good morning, ma’am,” she greeted me.

“Morning, Sofiya,” I responded, squinting at the suspicious smile she wore. “Everything alright?”

She cleared her throat. “Yes. Everything’s fine. Mr. Tarasov asked me to call you downstairs.”

“Okay…” I drawled lazily, my tone laced with skepticism.

Sofiya stood sentinel without moving a muscle, eyes fixed on me.

“Wait, you mean like right now?” I asked, watching her closely.

She nodded.

I heaved a sigh, tossing the book aside as I sprang to my feet, wondering what Daniel was up to this time.

She led the way, and I followed her through the hallway and now down the staircase. My eyes darted toward Daniel standing in the living room. But he wasn’t alone; there was someone else with him, a black-suited man standing by the fireplace, his back to me.

“You asked to see me?” I asked Daniel, strolling into the opulent space, my feet softly padding on the floor.

“I did,” he replied, holding my gaze. “There’s someone here to see you.” He nodded toward the visitor.

I could’ve sworn that I recognized that bear’s broad stance, the slight hunch of the visitor’s back. But before I could put two and two together, the man turned around, facing me.

My breath hitched, eyes widening in shock and surprise.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he greeted me, his Irish accent strong in his tone.

My lips trembled as I stepped forward, blinking back the tears simmering in my eyes. “Dad?”

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips, arms spread wide. Without hesitation, I ran into his embrace, basking in the warmth of his bosom. His grip tightened around my back, and he wouldn’t let go, nor would I. We remained in each other’s arms until we’d had enough.

“How…?” I whispered, pulling back to watch him closely, making sure my eyes weren’t playing tricks on me.

“Your husband,” he said, his voice mild and devoid of the hate he’d once had for Daniel. “He made this possible.”

I turned to face Daniel, who stood a few paces away, arms folded over his chest. His eyes held a glint of satisfaction, as if watching me reunite with my father had brought him some sense of peace. Tears of joy streamed down my cheeks, my lips parting but producing no words.

“I know how much you miss him,” Daniel said, stepping closer, his gaze locked on mine. “Your happiness is my number one priority, printsessa .” He reached out, brushing his thumb over my cheek, his smooth gesture wiping my tears.

I sniffled, overwhelmed with emotions, my heart racing in anticipation. “Thank you,” I mumbled, my voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment there, silence fell as my husband and I stared at each other until Dad broke it, clearing his throat conspicuously.

“You do realize I’m still here, right?” he teased.

An abrupt chuckle burst out of me, my cheeks flushing as I stole another glance at Daniel.

“You look happy,” Dad said to me, his voice soft and tender.

I met his gaze, a faint smile playing on my lips. “I am, Dada. I am.”

He nodded, squeezing out a grin, his gaze shifting to my husband. “I guess I owe you an apology, Tarasov,” Dad began, drawing a deep, long breath. “I should have punished Liam for what he did to your cousin. It was bad of me.”

Daniel was silent for a while, his gaze locked on Dad’s. “I’m not gonna apologize for throwing you in prison,” he stated.

Dad snorted. “Wasn’t expecting you to.” He extended a hand, his eyes never leaving Daniel’s. “To a better future.”

Daniel hesitated for a moment, and I could feel my anxiety brewing with each passing second. My heart had paused, and my breath was hitched. This was a potential alliance between both families, and it would mean the world to me if the two most important men in my life would agree to work together.

Daniel’s expression softened ever so slightly, and he took my father’s hand, his grip firm and welcoming.

“Phew!” I let out a deep sigh of relief. “For a second there, you had me worried,” I said amidst chuckles.

Dad laughed, his gaze shifting across my husband and me. “Ye wouldn’t happen to have a bottle of bourbon, now, would ye?”

Daniel exchanged glances with me, a sly grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

If this wasn’t the best day of my life, then I couldn’t wait to experience more good days to come.