Page 70 of Sweet Obsession

My boots made barely a sound against the old tile, steps as quiet as guilt.

No guards. Not this far in.

They trusted the snow, the walls, the silence, the illusion of my compliance. Maybe even Misha did too.

Maybe he believed the dinners, the fake calm, the cautious smiles I wore like armor. Or maybe... he just didn’t care anymore. That thought hurt more than it should’ve. But I didn’t let myself feel it.

The cold punched me in the chest the second I shoved open the rusted back door and stepped into the screaming dark.

Wind like knives. Snow like broken glass. But I ran.

Toward the woods. Toward freedom. Toward a future I wasn’t even sure I deserved. I didn’t look back. The Lada was there. Just like they promised. Black. Nondescript. Engine humming low beneath layers of frost.

And the man waiting inside wasn’t old. Wasn’t unfamiliar.

He stepped out of the car and leaned against the door with a lazy sort of arrogance that didn’t match the tension in his jaw.

Lev Odessa.

Chernov’s younger brother.

And even in the moonlight, I could see the risk painted all over him.

“You made it,” he said, opening the passenger side for me. “I was beginning to think you changed your mind.”

I didn’t speak. Just slid inside, shaking from cold and nerves.

He got behind the wheel, slammed the door shut, and yanked the car into motion.

Tires slipped on snow, catching again as we hit the road.

“You know this is insane, right?” he muttered. “If Petrov finds out I was here... he won’t just kill me. He’ll mail my body back in parts.”

I finally turned to look at him. “Then why risk it?”

He gave a short, bitter laugh. “Because Yuri’s family reached out to my brother. And Chernov, God knows why, gives a damn about what happens to you.” A pause. “He said he owed you.Or maybe it was more than that. Maybe he’s just stupid when it comes to women who wear defiance like perfume.”

I froze, heartbeat stuttering.

Lev continued, voice lower now. “He said if I got you out... maybe one day, you’d return the favor. Or at least remember who didn’t let you rot in that frozen palace.”

Something twisted deep in my chest. Not guilt. More like doubt. Conflict. A crack in the certainty I thought I had I turned away from him, jaw tight.

“I didn’t ask for Chernov’s help.”

“No,” Lev said simply. “But you’re using it anyway.”

The silence stretched. Heavy. Loaded.

“If I get you to the airstrip alive,” he said after a beat, “you better make it count, Luna. Because the second you get on that plane... this becomes war. Misha Petrov won’t take it lightly. He’ll come for you.”

I didn’t respond. Because part of me already knew. And part of me didn’t care. I should’ve felt relief. But all I felt was the ache in my chest. I thought about Yuri’s grave. And then... about Misha.

His cold eyes, unreadable and endless. The way his body shifted the moment Chernov looked at me too long at that first public outing, how he’d crossed the room in seconds, hand at the small of my back like a brand, jaw tight, eyes burning.

How he’d sent his men out, mid-meeting, just because I barged in.

How he’d draped his heavy coat over my shoulders that frozen night at his father’s house in Moscow.