Page 8

Nikolai

There’s a blizzard coming and it's the kind that blankets everything until the world turns cold and shapeless. I smell it in the air long before the first flakes start to fall.

The wind’s already turning savage by the time I drag her up the mountain. Snowflakes hitting like shards of glass, sticking to my jacket and melting into cold lines down my neck. Like a constant sting, it gnaws at every exposed patch of skin, even through the thick leather of my gloves, and I can feel my fingers going numb.

She’s barely conscious, slumped against my shoulder as I haul her through the forest. Her weight drags me down the snow with each step, but I don’t stop despite the wind howling like something feral.

I caught her. That’s what matters. I can’t believe she’s been following me. Watching me like I don’t already have her scent memorized in my fucking psyche.

Every other idiot who’s ever tried to spy on me, I’ve disposed of with a single shot. But this one? Why the hell am I still keeping her alive?

It’s a shame she’s so damn predictable. Making herself visible just enough to draw my attention, thinking it’s all part of her game. But it’s not a game if you’re the only one playing. It’s a death wish. And tonight, she walked right into it.

The cabin’s an old hunting lodge I fixed up last year. It was all broken windows and rusted hinges when I found it. It took weeks of work to make it habitable.

It’s a dump by any decent man’s standards, but I’m not decent, and it’s better than freezing to death. It’s got a stove, a cot, and just enough supplies to last me through a few nights off-grid when I need to disappear, usually from assholes far more dangerous than her.

I keep it for situations exactly like this—well, not exactly like this. Because I’ve never had a woman up here before. Even if I wanted to accomplish my wildest fantasies of fucking in the woods, this is the last place I’d think of.

But it’s safe. And right now, safe is what she needs if she’s going to stay alive long enough to give me answers.

I kick the door open and carry her inside, dumping her onto the sagging couch.

Inside, the cabin is small, furnished with the bare essentials. A creaky bed and a weathered table. As the door slams shut behind us, I take a second to lock the door, digging out the makeshift latch I installed. The last thing I need is someone stumbling upon us.

The wind howls outside, shaking the old boards like it’s trying to tear the place apart. We’re trapped here. Even if I wanted to drag her back down the mountain, we wouldn’t make it. Not until the storm passes.

I set about starting a fire, throwing logs into the stone hearth and lighting them with a half-empty box of matches. The sparks catch, and heat bleeds into the frigid air. It’s a weak fire, struggling against the cold, but it’s better than nothing.

I also had some supplies stashed here—canned food, bottled water, medical kits. Enough to last a week, if needed. I rip open a protein bar and shove half of it into my mouth, chewing mechanically as I glance over at her.

She’s still out, sprawled awkwardly on the couch. Her ankle’s swollen, bruised, the skin tight and ugly. I could leave her to suffer, make her talk through the pain. But she won’t be any good to me half-broken.

I dig through the supply box, pulling out a roll of bandages and a cold pack. Working fast, I prop her leg up, pressing the pack against her ankle. Her skin twitches under my touch, her brows knitting even as she sleeps.

My hands are too cold, so I postpone treating her till I’m warmer. I shove my hands near the flames, rubbing at my knuckles until the stiffness eases.

My phone’s dead. I knew it would be. There is no signal this high up, and the storm’s only making it worse. If Rurik’s on his way, he’s a dead man. Nobody’s making it up the mountain in this. This isn’t the original meeting place, but I have no choice now. This abandoned cabin is the safest spot for miles.

I glance over at her again. There’s something infuriating about her lying there so still, like she’s already given up. But the girl who’s been following me for days wouldn’t just collapse so easily. She’s stubborn. Stupid, but stubborn.

Reaching for the roll of bandages again, I prop her leg up, pressing the pack against her ankle. She jolts at the feeling and groans. Her eyelids flutter before snapping open, her eyes locking onto me with immediate panic.

“What—” she tries to sit up, but her body won’t cooperate. “Where the hell am I?”

“Safe,” I say. “For now.”

Her eyes are huge, darting between me and the gun I’m still pointing at her. Smart girl.

“You shot at me.”

“I missed.”

“Intentionally?”

I shrug. “More or less. You followed me up a mountain. Consider the shot a warning.”

“Could’ve warned me by not shooting.”

“Wouldn’t have gotten the point across.”

She glares at me, her eyes burning through the pain. She’s tougher than she looks. But like I said, stupid. Following me up here, unarmed and alone? Suicidal.

“So, what now? Dragging me in here? What, you want to kill me where no one can hear?”

I tilt my head. “If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead. Already gave you that mercy once. Starting to regret it.”

She watches me with that defiant glare like she’s trying to read my mind. Like she thinks if she stares hard enough, she’ll figure out if I’m about to kill her or not.

“Start talking.” I sit down across from her, folding my arms. “The last time we talked, you didn’t give me a straight response. So, let’s try again. Why are you here? Why’d you follow me here? What game are you playing?”

“Why do you think?”

“You’ll be smart not to answer my question with a question.”

She swallows hard. “I already told you. My sister. She disappeared and—”

“Yeah, and I told you I had nothing to do with it,” I cut her off. “I’ve had it up to here with your tailing and accusations. Explain why you’re still after me.”

“Because you were the last one seen with her alive! She was running odd jobs for the Bratva. I know now you work for Kirill, who is a well-known mafioso. You were in on it. You must have been.”

Her words echo in the small room. The accusation burns, but I hold my ground. “You think I’m the only man she could’ve worked with? That’s a weak lead. Besides, why do you think I’d waste my time chasing after some girl doing petty jobs for cash?”

“Weak or not, it’s all I’ve got. Her disappearance doesn’t add up. She was doing...things for you guys. Dangerous things. I need you to tell me or at least point me in the right direction.”

“Believe what you want. But if I were involved, you’d be dead. And your sister wouldn’t be missing. She’d be buried.”

She flinches. The truth hurts. But I’m not here to play nice.

“What do you think she was doing for the Bratva?” Katya asks me.

“I should be asking you that. You are supposedly the last person who saw her alive.”

“I never even exchanged more than two sentences at a time with her. I was just assigned to be her bodyguard to the places she went.”

“So you don’t know who hired her? Or you?”

“It was five years ago before I started working for the man I am working for now. I had just lost my previous boss and was in between jobs, so I took some gigs on the downlow.”

“How many times did you escort her?”

“Just twice.”

She nods her head as though checking some information she has in her head. “And you never once asked your client? A woman you were supposed to bodyguard. Who was she meeting and what business did she have with them?”

“Believe it or not. This business isn’t exactly built for you to ask questions. You are meant to work with the information you know, and keep your mouth shut. I didn’t care, nor did I know.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“So, you think I’m the one who sent her on whatever job went bad?”

“I think you were the last one to see her alive. And if you weren’t, you know who was.”

I narrow my eyes. “You have a death wish, don’t you?”

“No.” Her voice drops. “I have a sister. And she’s worth dying for.”

I lean back, watching her. She’s all bravado, held together by fury and desperation. I almost respect it.

“You’re not leaving this cabin until I decide what to do with you,” I say.

“And if I don’t feel like staying?”

“You don’t have a choice.”

She looks away, her eyes shifting to the loose bandages wrapped around her ankle. “You tried to bandage my leg?”

“Can’t question a corpse.”

The fire crackles between us, the only sound apart from her shallow breathing.

I pull a chair closer to her, leaning in.

“Take your boot off.”

She gives me a look like I just asked her to strip naked. “Why?”

“Because if your ankle swells anymore, you’re not walking on it out of here.”

“Maybe that’s the point. If I die, then at least you’ll feel guilty about it.”

I chuckle. “You think I feel guilty? About anything?”

She doesn’t answer. Just looks at me with those eyes I try my best not look at. I crouch down in front of her, grab her leg, and start unlacing her boot.

“Hey!” She jerks her leg back, but I tighten my grip.

“Hold still.”

Her breath hitches when I slide her boot off, and I can see the mess of her ankle already turning purple. This looks like she hurt it before she got it twisted. Like she’s been limping on it, pushing herself like she’s got something to prove.

I grab an ointment from one of the shelves, apply it, and wrap her ankle tight, ignoring her protests.

Her lips press into a straight line, and for a moment, I see something shift in her eyes. Fascination.

“You missed on purpose.” Her voice is soft, barely above a whisper.

“What?”

“You shot at me. But you missed. On purpose.”

My lips curve. “Maybe I just have bad aim.”

“No. You don’t.”

She’s right. I never miss.

I shift in my seat and trace my eyes over her, taking in the stubborn set of her jaw, the way her chest rises and falls as she fights to keep her composure. It’s almost... captivating.

And I want her. Fuck, do I want her.

The way her body tenses under my scrutiny gives me the indication that she knows I’m thinking about her. Imagining her pressed against me with those legs wrapped around my waist, and fingers clawing at my shoulders as I take her roughly. That defiance twisting into something else.

But no. I should end this. Send her out into the cold. But the more I push her, the more she digs in her heels, daring me to break her.

And I’ve always loved a challenge.

“Why are you helping me?” she whispers, sounding more vulnerable than before.

“Because we’re stuck here. And whether we like it or not, we’re in the same boat,” I answer.

“You may think I’m doing too much coming all the way here,” she murmurs. “But you don’t get it. I need to find her. I won’t stop until I do. And you’re my best lead.”

“You’re persistent. I’ll give you that.” I stand, resting my gun so it’s facing her, a casual reminder of the power dynamic here. “But you’re grasping at straws. You’re gonna get yourself killed.”

“Then help me. Help me find out what happened to her.”

A bitter laugh escapes me. “You’re asking me to risk my neck for a dead girl?”

“She’s not dead,” she snaps. “I would feel it if she was. She’s out there, and she needs me.”

The sincerity in her voice shakes me more than I’d like to admit. I can’t help but respect her determination, foolish as it is. She’s not just fighting for answers – she’s fighting for family. Something I used to understand.

“Fine, I guess since I have nothing better to do, I could lend you some of my time. We’ll try to get through this storm first. Then we will figure out the rest when we leave, if I still feel like it. But understand – if you lie to me, or pull any stunts, I won’t hesitate. Got it?”

“Got it.” She peers at me.

For the first time, I see her not just as a nuisance or threat but as a person with something to lose. It adds a new layer to the stakes, one I hadn’t considered. We sit there, the storm a chaotic backdrop to our uneasy truce. I wonder what tomorrow will bring if this fragile alliance will hold. Or if her search for truth will be our undoing.

I toss a few logs into the stove and light the fire, the warmth gradually spreading through the cabin. Its crackling is the only sound punctuating the silence between us. She watches me, analyzing every move. It’s almost amusing how she thinks she can figure me out.

“You hungry?” I ask, without taking my eyes off the fire.

“Starving,” she admits, her voice softening slightly. It’s not a peace offering, but it’s a start. I pull a couple of ration packs from the cabinet and toss one her way. Survival food, nothing fancy, but it’ll keep us going.

“Better than nothing,” she mutters as she tears into the pack. Her hands still shake a little as she eats.

“So why did you join the Bratva?” she asks suddenly, catching me off guard.

“Lack of options,” I reply, keeping it vague. “Same as anyone, I guess.”

“That’s not an answer,” she presses.

“Well, it’s all you get, krasivaya.” I meet her stare, unflinching. She huffs but lets it drop.

“Tell me about her. Your sister,” I say, more to see her reaction than actual curiosity. Her face softens, and the hard edge melts away for just a moment.

“Irina was...wild. Reckless, even. Always chasing something just out of reach. But she is the hardest-working and selfless person I know. We grew up hard. She was always looking for a way out, any way out. Honestly, I wasn’t surprised when I found out she started running with your crowd. I knew my sister would do anything. I just didn’t know she’d gotten in over her head. From all I saw in her emails, she had jobs lined up that would have made her financially stable for a while. And my sister is smart. She could always take herself out of any tough situation. That is why I feel she is alive.”

Her voice quivers, and for a moment, I see the vulnerability beneath the armor. It’s strange how people cling to hope.

“What sort of jobs?” I press.

“I couldn’t tell much from the emails, but I deduce they weren’t odd stuff. Just delivery runs, errand work but always with specific instructions. Meet me here, bring two of them, collect, and don’t ask questions. Make sure the seal isn’t broken on delivery.”

I nod slowly, digesting her words. The question now isn’t whether it was, in fact deliveries or not. It was what was being delivered. I know my kind enough that once they needed a woman to move stuff for them, it was never anything good. I never saw her with anything, like a bag or package the two times I escorted her. And even if I did, it wasn’t my business to find out what was in it.

“You’re betting a lot on the chance I know something useful,” I say, leaning back in my chair.

“I have no choice,” she says simply. “Everywhere else I’ve turned has been a dead end. You’re the last thread.”

I move to the window, peering out at the raging storm. It’s a white prison. Turning back to her, I see she’s already huddled by the fire, exhaustion finally overtaking her stubborn will.

“Get some rest,” I say gruffly. “We’ll finish the conversation tomorrow.”

It takes a moment, but she nods, wrapping herself in the threadbare blanket I toss her way. I settle into the chair by the door with my gun resting on my lap. Sleep is a luxury I can’t afford. Not now.

As the firelight flickers, casting shadows on the walls, I let my thoughts drift. Who would have thought I’d end up playing nursemaid in some forsaken cabin, catering to the sister of a potential traitor? Life’s funny like that, always throwing you in directions you don’t expect.

But there’s something about her, something that keeps me from tossing her out. Maybe it’s the fire in her eyes, the insistent pursuit of truth, no matter the cost. Or maybe it’s because, deep down, I know what it’s like to lose someone. To be desperate for answers.

We’re both seeking something, but in this web of lies and power plays, it’s survival that’ll be the ultimate test. And I aim to be the one who comes out on top.

Despite the uncertainty, there’s a strange sense of camaraderie. We may be stuck in a blizzard, driven by conflicting goals, but right now, survival is all that matters.

She breaks the silence first. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For not being what I expected.”

I meet her eyes, the sparkle of the fire reflecting in her eyes. “Don’t thank me yet.”