Page 176 of Stolen Empire

Her breath catches, and for a second, she doesn't move.

Then she's across the room, dropping to her knees in front of her mother, and Anzhela's arms come up to wrap around her.

Katya folds into her, her face pressed against her mother's shoulder, and the sound she makes is raw and broken.

I give them space, and Artemy follows me out into the hallway.

He closes the door quietly behind us, and we stand there in the corridor, listening to the muffled sound of Katya crying.

"Why?" I ask, keeping my voice low.

"Because she's Morozov blood," Artemy says simply.

"And because you brought her to me whole. I had to prove you…" His eyes narrow, then his face drops. "And Ekaterina needs her mother at a time like this."

I lean against the wall, my arms crossed, and I stare at the closed door in complete shock and wonder.

All this time, I thought Artemy may look at Katya as a threat to his empire, but I was so wrong.

There's more loyalty and strength in his family bond than I could ever have imagined.

I can hear Katya's voice muffled and thick with tears, and I think about everything she's been through.

Everything I've put her through.

I dragged her into this world, forced her into danger, used her as a tool to get what I needed.

And now, standing here listening to her cry in her mother's arms, I feel the full weight of it.

I love her in a way that's consuming, dangerous, and impossible to ignore.

And I want to give her everything.

I want to give her safety, stability, a life where she doesn't have to look over her shoulder or wonder if the next day will be her last.

I want to give her a home, a family, a future that doesn't involve blood and violence and betrayal.

But I don't know if I can.

I don't know if I'm capable of being the man she deserves.

The door opens, and Rolan walks out, his face tight.

He glances at me, then at Artemy, and he nods once before walking down the hallway.

Artemy follows, leaving me alone, and I take a breath before stepping into the room.

Katya is still on her knees, her arms wrapped around her mother, and Anzhela is stroking her hair with one hand.

They're both crying now, but I stay in the doorway, unwilling to intrude.

But Katya must sense me there, because she pulls back slightly and looks over her shoulder.

Her face is wet, her eyes red-rimmed and swollen, and when she sees me, her expression shifts.

There's gratitude there that sucks me into those depths I love to get lost in.

I feel it, and I know she loves me back, even though neither of us has said it, and I can't think of a better time to tell her.