Page 20

I got to the house just as the last sliver of sunlight disappeared behind the horizon, casting long shadows across the cracked driveway. When our last search at the abandoned warehouse proved abortive, it was my best guess that Enzo had stuffed her in another one of his filthy hideouts. The bastard wasn’t going to risk shelving her in his house. That would have been too easy. And my guess was right.

The place smelled damp and reeked of desperation.

My fists clenched at the thought of Serena in there—alone, scared, in his hands. It made my blood boil. I gave a sharp nod to my men, and we moved in, guns drawn, every step deliberate and quiet.

When Arlo told me the locals around said she’d followed after someone, my first suspect was her brother. Serena cared about him more than her own life; it made sense that he would be the only reason she’d have been that reckless, even with child.

But I knew he wasn’t smart enough to pull off such a plan alone. He’d have needed the resources to do it, and who better than the family that enjoyed sticking their noses in other people’s fucking businesses?

The Colombos.

Inside, the air was heavy with tension. The confined room where Serena was kept wasn’t hard to find; male laughter echoed off the walls, and I wasn’t foolish enough to charge in blindly. Enzo was here, and he wouldn’t make this easy.

As we turned the corner, his men came into view—ten heavily armed and strategically positioned. Enzo himself stood in the center of the room, his face twisted in shock; his expression quickly morphed into that smug grin I’d been itching to wipe off.

Serena was behind him, lying on a blanket. Her face was pale, her yellow dress wrinkled, and her hair was all over the place. When she saw me, she immediately burst into tears.

The thought that they’d hurt her made my blood boil, and standing there, I made a silent promise to myself to make every one of those fuckers pay.

“Already mourning me, Pchelka ? Yellow’s not the best color for that.”

She cried harder, wiping the back of her hand over her red cheek and puffy eyes. Ignoring everyone else in the room, I walked up to her, drowned in sudden relief that I could have her again in my arms.

With a flick, I wiped off the tears from her eyes and sucked them off my thumb. “Don’t look so heartbroken, Serena. I’m here now.”

And her tears stopped, though I saw the question in her eyes, wondering how I’d made it out alive. If it were up to me, I would have carried her away in my arms back to our home. But there was unfinished business to take care of.

“Timur,” Enzo drawled, spreading his arms wide like he was welcoming an old friend. “I wondered when you’d show up.”

“No, you didn’t, you sick old fuck.” I left her side, crossing the room with my gun in a firm grip. “You thought I’d died in that stupid fire. You couldn’t even get that right. Just like you haven’t gotten anything right since you became fucking Don. How about this: When we’re done here, I’ll teach you how to set proper explosives. You can be my test subject if you want.”

“Not before I torture you first, figlio di putttana.”

I knew enough Italian to recognize the insult: son of a bitch.

“If that’s how you want it, so be it.”

I didn’t waste time with words. I signaled to my men, and chaos erupted.

The first shot shattered the standoff, sending one of Enzo’s goons sprawling to the ground. The room exploded into violence, gunfire ricocheting off the walls. I ducked behind an overturned table, firing off calculated shots, each one aimed to neutralize the threat. My men moved with precision, flanking Enzo’s team and forcing them into a corner.

One of his guys rushed me, a knife glinting in his hand. I sidestepped, grabbing his wrist and slamming it against the table edge until the blade clattered to the ground. Serena screamed behind me, and I glanced over my shoulder quickly.

Swiftly, I made my way to her side, grabbing the wrists of one of Colombo’s men. Pulling him close, I sent two bullets through his forehead, and a quick uppercut followed by a solid punch to his gut sent him crumpling.

Another came at us, a bat swinging for my head.

“I need you to find a place to hide, Pchelka . Now.”

I couldn’t have my eyes on her while she ran for safety, but I ducked just in time, grabbing the bat mid-swing and yanking it free from his grip. A quick swing of my own, and he was down, groaning on the floor.

My men held their ground, cutting through the rest of Enzo’s crew with a ruthless efficiency I’d come to expect. But Enzo? The bastard was slipping away, edging closer to the door while the gunfire grew more rapid.

I growled, vaulting over the overturned table on the floor and cutting off his escape.

He turned to face me, his grin finally faltering. He lunged, a knife in his hand, but I was ready. I caught his arm mid-strike, twisting it until the blade dropped. He swung his other fist, but I ducked, slamming my shoulder into his gut and driving him against the wall.

“Like I told your daughter, your family really should learn how to keep their noses out of other people’s shit.”

He struggled, but I pinned him, my fist connecting with his jaw once, twice, until his body went slack. My men finished off the last of his team, and the room finally fell silent except for Serena’s ragged breaths.

I turned to her, and her wide, relief-filled eyes met mine. I motioned to Arlo, who came up to me. He secured Enzo and bound his hands tight as I moved past the bloodied floor and heaps of bodies, heading to Serena.

Planted in a corner was her fucking brother.

The room suddenly felt too narrow for the weight of my anger. My fists clenched at my sides, and I ached to do something—anything—about the slouched figure standing a few feet away. Jay. I recognized him instantly.

Despite the mess around us and the subtle hint of fear in his gaze, he still displayed the same defiance in his stance, the same audacity that had already cost me more patience than I was willing to spare.

I kept walking, every step deliberate and controlled, even though my blood was boiling. I could feel his eyes on me, could practically hear the mocking tone of whatever nonsense he was ready to spew. I threw him a glare sharp enough to cut, making sure he understood the danger he was in. If Serena weren’t pregnant—if she weren’t in such a delicate state—I’d have done what I should’ve done the first time he crossed me, when he tried to run away with his sister.

The boy thought he had balls? I was willing to show him who had the gun.

But I didn’t stop. I didn’t let the temptation win, though every fucking fiber in my body screamed for it. Serena’s face flashed in my mind, the way she cried when I walked into the room, the way she rested her hand protectively over her stomach as if she already knew how much I’d fight for them both. I couldn’t risk upsetting her, not now, not when she needed calm and stability more than anything else.

Jay knew it, too. He had to.

That was why he was standing there, unscathed, still breathing. He thought Serena’s condition gave him immunity, that I’d hold back because of her. And maybe, for now, he was right. But he should’ve known better than to mistake restraint for weakness.

My steps slowed as I passed him, my glare locked on his, letting him see every ounce of the promise I wasn’t speaking aloud. One wrong move, one more reason, and I’d make sure he regretted ever setting foot in my world. But for Serena’s sake, I’d wait.

For now.

“Timur….”

Lost in my anger at her brother, I hadn’t noticed her rise to her feet and make her way toward me. She collapsed into my arms, and for a moment, the rage subsided, replaced by the overwhelming need to keep her safe.

“I don’t understand what’s happening.” She touched my face and searched my eyes. “How?”

I reached for her wrist. My fingers closed around it, the delicate bones fragile under my grasp. She didn’t resist, but her eyes darted up to meet mine, questioning. I didn’t explain—not yet. Instead, I tilted her hand, examining the bracelet that circled her wrist. The diamond caught the light, glinting like it had a secret of its own. And it did.

A tracker. My tracker.

It had been a wise decision, one I’d made without consulting her. Not that she needed to know the details.

The memory resurfaced when I’d walked into that high-end boutique on Fifth Avenue weeks ago, the bell above the door chiming softly as I entered. The moment I stepped inside, conversations died. The polished salespeople froze, their practiced smiles faltering as they wondered what manner of man had entered their store without offering a friendly hello.

I’d seen it in their eyes: fear, curiosity, and the desire to do nothing to provoke me. I’d ignored their hesitation and scanned the displays until one caught my attention. A bracelet, delicate and understated, yet bold enough to signify possession. It was so fucking perfect.

I’d pointed at it without offering room for conversation or negotiation, and the clerk behind the counter fumbled, rushing to retrieve the piece. Every step I took made the people in the store shrink further into themselves. When the bracelet was boxed and handed to me, I stepped out of the store without glancing back. Outside, Arlo was waiting by the car, leaning casually against the hood, ready to make a joke.

“Install the tracker,” I’d ordered, practically tossing the box to him. “And not a fucking word.”

Playfully air-zipping his lips, he’d caught it without a word.

Now, as I held her wrist in my hand, I felt a grim satisfaction. She didn’t know the lengths I would go to keep her safe—or to keep her mine.

“I had Arlo install a tracker in it weeks ago,” I said to her, noticing I’d kept her long without an answer. “When the phone tracker stayed in a position for too long, I knew something was off, so I followed the one in your bracelet instead. I know what’s going through your mind right now; you saw me on that fucking TV screen. You watched me die. Only I didn’t. I’m standing right here, Serena. The difference between Colombo and I is that I always make sure I’m thorough, ten fucking steps ahead at all times. So, while he did plant the bomb and his cameras to watch, all I had to do was play the role and doctor the tape.”

She gaped, eyes widened in disbelief. “You edited a live stream?”

“ If it was a live stream, that might have been harder. Think about tampering with CCTV footage. What we did could be likened to that. I just had my men hack into their system to make it look like we went into the car before the detonation.”

“But you’d already left the scene long before the bomb went off.”

“Exactly.”

I watched her turn the bracelet over in her hand, her fingers tracing the diamonds that now seemed to glint accusingly under the light. Her brow furrowed, and when she looked up at me, I could see a flicker of something I rarely saw in her—disapproval. The last time she’d glared at me had been the day of the hospital visit. After then, I’d managed to stay on her good side.

“You put a tracker in this?” she asked. Her voice was quiet but sharp, her blue eyes fixed on mine. “You said weeks ago. Have you been tracking me this whole time?”

I braced myself, straightening my posture and meeting her gaze head-on. There was no point in lying; she deserved the truth, even if it made her angry.

“Yes,” I admitted, keeping my voice steady. “I did.”

Her lips parted, her expression tilting toward a mix of surprise and something harder to place—hurt, maybe. “Why?” she pressed, her voice rising just slightly. “Was it about trust? Did you think I’d run off or—?”

“No.” I cut her off before her mind could go further down that path. I stepped closer, lowering my voice. “It wasn’t about trust, Serena. It was about protecting you. That’s all it’s ever been about. I promised to protect you and our child, and I have every intention of fulfilling it until my last breath. If there’s anyone who should be questioned on the issue of trust, it’s you.”

“Me?”

“You, Pchelka. ” Gritting my teeth, I fought to control the boiling rage that resurfaced inside me. “When you saw your fucking brother, you could have called me before putting your life at risk. Yours and the baby’s. But I guess you didn’t trust me enough to think that I’d do anything about it.”

“I…I….”

Serena swiped her tongue over her lips and heaved a sigh. She stared at me, searching my face as though she didn’t know what to say or how to say that I was right. The silence stretched between us, heavy and tense, until finally, she exhaled and shook her head slightly as if to clear it.

“Maybe I didn’t. Or maybe I just acted on impulse because I thought he was hurt. Whatever the reason, I’m sorry I didn’t call you. I’m sorry I made you go through all this trouble to get me back. When I found out they’d planned it, I was so scared,” she said softly, her voice breaking as she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around me. Her cheek pressed against my chest, and I could feel her trembling slightly. “I won’t lie; I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

I closed my arms around her, holding her tightly, letting her draw whatever comfort she needed. Her vulnerability was a knife to my chest, cutting deeper than any accusation could.

“You’re safe now,” I murmured against her hair, my voice firm but low. “I made sure of it.”

For a long moment, she didn’t speak. She just held on, her fingers gripping the back of my shirt as though I might disappear. And as I held her, I realized that no matter what it took—lies, trackers, bloodshed—I would keep her safe, even if it meant she never truly understood the lengths I’d go to for her.

Fuck , I could kill a thousand men for this woman if it meant keeping her by my side.

The stench of blood and gunpowder hung thick in the air, mixing with the metallic tang of death. We should have started moving toward the door to go home, but I didn’t want to move. Not yet, anyway.

Bodies were strewn across the floor, their lifeless eyes staring into the void, but I didn’t look at them.

I tipped her chin up, my gaze locked on her.

She stood in my arms, blinking with tears shimmering in her thick, long lashes, her blue eyes wide and sad. Her hair was wild, and her cheeks streaked with tears. But she was alive. She was here. My lungs expanded, drawing in a sharp.

Anticipating, she didn’t move, didn’t flinch, just stared at me like she couldn’t decide if I was truly her savior or a monster.

The weight of everything crashed into me—the chaos, the risk, the hell I just fought through to get to her and our baby .

Her skin was warm beneath my fingers, soft despite the faint bruises marring her cheek. “Serena,” I said, but it was more a growl, her name roughened by the raw emotion I couldn’t hold back.

She blinked, her lips parting as if to speak, but no words came out. I couldn’t take it anymore.

I mumbled under my breath in Russian, “ Fuck, I could have lost you.”

It hit me harder now after the dust had settled. The relief, the anger, the unexplainable need to confirm she was real, she was mine —it all exploded inside me. I pulled her to me, my arm sliding around her waist as my lips crashed against hers.

At first, the kiss was desperate and rough. I poured every ounce of my rage and relief into it, my fingers tangling in her hair as I tilted her head back. Her lips were soft and trembling beneath mine, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she melted into me, her fingers clutching the front of my shirt like I was the only solid thing in her world.

And maybe, just fucking maybe, I was.

The kiss deepened, my mouth claiming hers like I’d been starving for it, for her. I tasted the salt of her tears and the faint sweetness of her breath, and it only made me crave more. Her hands slid up, gripping my shoulders as if holding on to me was the only thing keeping her upright.

I pulled back just enough to look at her, our breaths mingling in the small space between us. Her eyes searched mine, her lips swollen from the kiss. Her face was a mixture of confusion and something else—something that made my chest tighten even more.

“You’re safe.” I was sure I’d said that a hundred fucking times already, but I wouldn’t stop reassuring her. It was a promise and a vow all in one. “I’ve got you, Pchelka . No one’s ever going to hurt you again.”

And before she could respond, before I could let the memories of her pain creep back in, I kissed her again, softer this time but no less consuming.

When I let go of her, her gaze flickered over my shoulder. I followed the object of her guarded scrutiny to find her brother with his shoulders sagged and a forlorn look in his eyes as he looked at us with a reluctant resolve.

Personally, I didn’t give a shit if he accepted the reality that stared at him in the face, but the small smile on Serena’s lips and the tears that filled her eyes were proof that she did.

She cared that her brother accepted me.