Page 71 of The Enforcer's Vow

I pour antiseptic onto a clean cloth and start working. He doesn't flinch when I clean the cut, but his jaw tightens. I can feel the heat radiating from his skin, can smell the metallic scent of blood mixed with his familiar cologne.

"You could 've died tonight," I say quietly, not looking up from my work.

"But I didn't."

"You fell down those stairs. I heard every impact." My voice cracks on the words. "I thought?—"

"I'm still here, Zoya."

I finish cleaning the wound and start wrapping his ribs with elastic bandages. My hands are steadier now, focused on the task. When I'm done, I sit back and look at him properly.

"Do you believe me now?" he asks.

I think about the file, about Damir's confession, about the way my brother looked at me when he realized I wasn't going to leave with him.

"Yes," I say. "I believe you."

He nods slowly, as if he's been waiting for this moment. "Good."

"I'm sorry I doubted you. After everything you've done to protect me, I still?—"

"You don't need to apologize." He reaches out and takes my hand, his thumb tracing over my knuckles. "He was your brother. Of course you wanted to believe him."

I look down at our joined hands. Mine are still stained with soot and blood from the tunnels, fingernails dirty with debris. His are bruised and split, marked by the violence of tonight's fight.

"I love you," I tell him. The words come out simple, honest. "I should have said it before, but I was scared. Scared that if I admitted it, you'd find a way to use it against me."

"I've known for a while," he says quietly.

"How long?"

"Since the night you woke up from the fire. You looked at me when you opened your eyes, and I saw it. The way you trusted me to keep you safe."

I remember that night. The taste of smoke in my mouth, the bandages on my arms, the way he sat beside the bed watching over me. Even then, burned and broken, I felt safe with him there.

"I was terrified I was going to lose you tonight," I admit. "When Damir had that knife, when you were fighting those men—I realized that my whole world has become centered around you. Around us."

"You didn't lose me."

"But I could have. And then what? I'd be alone again, with a baby, and nowhere to go."

He lets go of my hand and cups my face instead. His palm is warm against my cheek, callused from years of violence but gentle in the way he touches me.

"You're not alone," he says. "You'll never be alone again."

"Promise me."

"I promise."

He leans forward and kisses me, soft and slow. I can taste the metallic tang on his lips, can feel the tremor in his hands as he pulls me closer. When we break apart, I rest my forehead against his.

"I need you," I whisper. "Tonight. Right now."

"Zoya—"

"I know you're hurt. I know you're exhausted. But I need to feel you alive. I need to know that we're both still here."

He searches my face, and whatever he sees there makes him nod. "Come here."