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Alina

The explosion rings in my ears, but it’s the silence that follows that nearly undoes me. Thick smoke pours into the room, curling around the ceiling, hugging the floor. My eyes burn, but I don’t dare move. I can’t.

I’m frozen.

I crouch in the far corner, one arm wrapped protectively over my stomach, the other pressed to the wall behind me like it might stop the world from collapsing. And then—through the haze—a shape appears.

A man. Tall and broad with a weapon in his hand, his movements swift, lethal.

No. No, not him. Please not Mendes.

My heart hammers against my ribs. I brace myself for pain, for violence, for the cruel grin I’ve come to fear.

But then the man stops.

And my name leaves his mouth.

“Alina.”

It’s not a command.

It’s not a threat.

It’s my name. Spoken low and rough and achingly familiar.

Lev.

My breath catches.

No. No—it’s a trick. A hallucination. I’ve imagined his voice so many times since I was dragged into this nightmare. I’ve heard it in my dreams, in the silence, in the way the wind rattled the glass at night.

I blink.

He’s still there. The smoke parts just enough for me to see his face. Those eyes—steel and storm and something softer hidden deep inside—lock onto mine.

He doesn’t wait.

He crosses the room in three long strides, and before I can process what’s happening, his arms are around me. Solid and real.

Feeling safe and overwhelmed, I melt into him. All the strength I’ve hoarded over the past few days shatters in a single, silent sob as I collapse against his chest. My fingers clutch at the fabric of his shirt, and he tightens his hold, like he’s afraid I’ll vanish.

His hand presses to the back of my head, cradling me gently. He buries his face in my hair.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, voice low and ragged. “I’ve got you now.”

I nod, even though I can barely move.

It wasn’t a dream.

He came.

Lev came.

I haven’t even caught my breath.

His arms are still around me, his scent still grounding me in something real, when the echo of pounding boots pierces the fragile calm.

Footsteps.

Heavy. Rushed. Too many.

Lev stiffens. His entire body transforms in an instant—warmth replaced by tension, comfort swapped for steel.

He doesn’t speak.

He doesn’t have to.

He moves faster than my mind can register, twisting us so suddenly I'm standing behind him within a second. His body shields mine, his back a wall of muscle and adrenaline. I’m shoved behind him, his arm flung out instinctively, protectively.

A second later, his gun is drawn—steady, aimed at the door, his finger curled around the trigger with terrifying precision.

His jaw is locked. His eyes burn with the kind of focus that makes you believe he wants something to come through that door. I clutch his shirt from behind, heart thundering against my ribs, breath caught in my throat.

Not again.

Please not again.

I don’t even realize I’ve whispered it aloud until I hear Lev murmur, “I won’t let him touch you.”

The way he says it—cold, final—sends a shiver through me.

And still, the footsteps come.

Closer.

My mind spirals.

Mendes. It’s him. He’s coming back to finish it. To rip Lev away from me. To tear this fragile moment apart and—

The footsteps stop.

The silence is sudden. Deafening.

Lev’s shoulders rise with each breath, ready to unleash hell.

Then—a voice calls out. “Lev!”

That's not Mendes. It's Viktor.

I sag against the wall with a choked gasp as realization dawns. It’s not him. It’s not Mendes. We’re not alone. We’re saved. Through the thinning smoke, more figures emerge. Not enemies. Not Mendes. There are Family.

Viktor barrels through the doorway like a storm in motion, Zasha just behind him, flanked by a dozen black-clad Bratva soldiers. Their presence fills the room like a tide of strength, and the second I see my brother’s face, my legs give out beneath me.

I don’t fall.

Viktor’s arms catch me before I hit the ground.

He crushes me to his chest in a hug so fierce, it knocks the breath from my lungs. I sob into him—loud, messy, unrestrained. The kind of crying that comes only when the fear is over and your body can finally let go.

His hand cradles the back of my head as he whispers into my hair, “You’re safe now. It’s okay. I’m here. We’ve got you.”

I cling to him, trembling like a child, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I believe it. I’m not alone anymore. They came for me. He came for me. Both of them.

I glance past Viktor’s shoulder just long enough to meet Zasha’s steady gaze. His nod is brief, solemn—but I see the anger in his eyes. The silent vow that someone will pay for what I’ve endured.

And Lev—

Lev is still there. Watching. Waiting.

Close, but not interrupting.

My brother may have me in his arms, but Lev’s face says it all-he will never let go.

Viktor holds me like he never wants to let go—and for a moment, I melt into it. Into the steady, unshakable warmth of my brother. The one who always protected me. Who swore he would keep me safe from this world.

But the truth is, I’ve changed. I’ve been broken open and stitched back together with fire. And I need something else now.

I feel him before I see him.

Lev.

He’s there, just behind us, watching. I don’t know how I know it—only that the air shifts when he’s near. Like gravity bending.

Then, without a word, he steps forward.

Viktor starts to pull back from me—but Lev doesn’t wait.

He reaches in and takes me.

His arms wrap around me, drawing me out of Viktor’s hold and into his own like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like I’ve always belonged there.

And God help me—I do.

The second I feel his body against mine, everything inside me steadies. My heartbeat calms. The shaking in my limbs dulls.

Viktor’s brow lifts at the bold move, but he doesn’t comment. He just exhales and mutters, “I saw your handiwork on the way up.”

Lev shrugs, eyes still locked on me. “They left me no choice.”

Viktor’s expression tightens slightly. “I didn’t see Mendes among the bodies, though.”

Lev’s jaw hardens. “He probably escaped.”

The room feels colder just hearing the name. My body tenses, but Lev’s hold on me tightens, grounding me.

Viktor nods once. “Then our work here isn’t done.”

It’s not a threat. It’s a promise.

I glance between the two men who’ve come for me—one by blood, one by choice. And the way Lev holds me now?

There’s no question that I trust him to never let go again.

The SUV’s engine purrs low beneath us, but the silence inside the cabin feels louder than gunfire. Zasha is at the wheel, hands steady, eyes locked on the road with the kind of cold focus that only comes after blood has been spilled. Viktor rides shotgun, barking low-voiced instructions into his phone—clean-up crews, burned files, surveillance footage. Always one step ahead. Always the general.

But in the back seat, I’m no longer a mission. I’m someone’s world.

Lev hasn’t let go of me since we left the compound. His arm is wrapped around my shoulders like steel, pulling me into his chest. I’m tucked beneath his chin, my body molded against his with a trembling kind of surrender.

I can’t stop shaking.

The adrenaline’s worn off. What’s left is raw and hollow. My limbs feel heavy, my skin too tight. There’s blood on my clothes—some of it mine, most of it not. My cheek still burns from Mendes’s slap, and every bump in the road sends a throb through my bones.

But I’m alive.

I’m safe.

I’m in his arms.

The world outside is a blur of passing lights and muted city sounds. I don’t bother looking. Nothing matters beyond this small, sacred space we’ve carved into the back seat.

Lev’s lips brush my hair.

“You’re okay now,” he whispers. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you, kotyonok.”

I don’t reply. I don’t have the words yet. I just tighten my fingers around the front of his shirt, anchoring myself to him.

He leans closer, his breath warm against my temple. “No one’s going to hurt you again. Not while I’m breathing.”

His grip never loosens.

Not once.

And as the blur of headlights sweeps over us, I let my eyes close—for the first time in days—knowing if I fall asleep, I’ll wake up still in his arms.

The hospital feels too bright.

After days of darkness, smoke, and fear, the sterile white lights sting my eyes. I blink against them, overwhelmed by the sudden contrast between survival and safety.

Everything moves quickly. Nurses take one look at my bruised face and the protective way Lev cradles me, and they usher us into a private room without questions. Viktor stays outside to handle paperwork and security. Zasha disappears with him, giving us space.

It’s just Lev and me now.

And the life between us.

I lie back on the examination bed, my body stiff, fragile, trembling. I don’t even know if I’m more afraid of what they’ll find… or of what they won’t.

My fingers clutch the edge of the gown. Lev sits beside me, his expression carved from stone, but his hand trembles as it slides into mine.

He doesn’t speak.

But he doesn’t let go.

The doctor enters—older, female, efficient but kind. She speaks softly, as if I might shatter. I almost do when she pulls the cold gel onto my stomach and murmurs, “You said you want to see how our little one is doing before having your bruises checked?” I nod as she takes a seat.

The machine hums. The probe presses lightly to my skin.

Then—

Whoosh-whoosh… whoosh-whoosh…

It fills the room like thunder in a cathedral.

My own heart stops for a moment at the sound of my baby's heartbeat.

Strong. Sure. Alive.

The sound punches straight through me, all the way to my bones. I didn’t know I was holding my breath until I hear that rhythmic echo, steady at 110 beats per minute.

A sob chokes in my throat, but it doesn’t escape. I turn my head. Lev is still holding my hand. But his other hand rises slowly to swipe at his eyes. There are tears there. Real ones.

His chest rises and falls with a shaky breath, and when he finally looks at me, I see it. All of it. The fear. The guilt. The wonder. The love.

We say nothing.

Because there’s nothing left to say. Everything is in that heartbeat. Everything is in his eyes. Everything is in the way he brings my hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles like they’re sacred. I blink away tears of my own, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I believe…

We’re going to be okay.

We’re going to make it.

All three of us.