Page 170 of Sweet Deception

“Only for you.” His lips quirked, and it unraveled me, eight years of scars, and still, he could do that. Then a drop hit my cheek,cool and sudden. Rain. It fell in a gentle rush, silver threads weaving through the night.

I stepped from the balcony’s shelter, tilting my face to it, letting it soak me. “Come on,” I said, reaching for him.

He arched a brow. “You’ll catch a cold.”

“I’ve survived worse.” I grinned, tugging his arm. “Dance with me.”

He hesitated, Gleb, the man who’d once ruled with iron, hesitating, and then he followed. Rain darkened his shirt, plastering it to his chest, his hair falling into his eyes. He looked younger, softer, like the boy he might’ve been before the Bratva ruined him.

I took his hands, guiding him into a slow sway. No music, just the rain’s rhythm and our breaths mingling. His grip tightened, calluses brushing my skin, and I felt every battle we’d fought together. “I never thought we’d have this,” I whispered, voice breaking. “A family. Peace.”

His jaw tensed, eyes shadowing with the past. “I almost lost you.” He drew me closer, one hand splaying across my back, the other cradling my face. Rain streaked his cheeks, masking tears he’d never let fall. “That bullet, watching you bleed, Anna, I’d tear the world apart before I let that happen again.”

I pressed my forehead to his, water dripping between us. “You don’t have to. We’re here. We made it.”

His breath hitched, and I felt it, Gleb, trembling. “You saved me,” he said, barely audible. “From the darkness. From myself.”

Tears stung my eyes, blending with the rain. “You saved me too. Every time you held on.”

He kissed me slowly, tasting of rain and salt. Not the fierce claim of our early days, but a vow etched into our bones. I sank into him, arms looping around his neck, and we swayed, the world dissolving until it was just us. The rain poured harder, drenching us, but we didn’t care. He spun me once, awkward and perfect,and I laughed, wild, free and alive. He pulled me back, chest rising fast, and murmured against my lips, “I’d do it all again. Every war, every wound. For you. For them.”

“So would I,” I breathed, clinging to him.

We danced until the rain eased, until the stars pierced the thinning clouds, until our breaths synced. Then we sank to the wet stone, side by side, gazing up. His hand found mine, fingers locking tight, and we lay there, stargazing, the weight of our past a faint pulse beneath the sky’s infinite promise. Inside, our children dreamed, safe because of us. Out here, we were just Anna and Gleb, enemies once, lovers always, wrapped in the quiet miracle of now.

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