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The metallic taste of blood lingered in Leo’s mouth. He probed his teeth with his tongue. All present and accounted for, at least.

Kat studied him from the coffee table, her gaze wary. Her skin looked paler than he remembered, making her eyes appear more intensely green, like the deepest fjord under a stormy sky.

Six months since he’d last seen her. Six months of disciplined effort not to recall the exact shade of her hair or the sensuous shape of her mouth when she smiled.

Now she was here, three feet away, and he cataloged every detail with a professional detachment that poorly masked his hunger at seeing her.

A small bruise marked her jaw, likely from her escape, and there were shadows under her eyes. Instead of one of the silk blouses he loved to see her in, she wore an oversized T-shirt. One of her brother’s, he guessed, that masked her curves and trim waist.

He wanted to reach out and cradle her face, trace the bruise on her jaw with his thumb, pull her against him until the world stopped trying to hurt her.

To tell her that whatever this was, they would solve it together.

Instead, he kept his hands flat on the tabletop, aware that any movement toward her might shatter the fragile truce they’d established.

“You sleep last night?”

She straightened, chin lifting. “I’m fine.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

Her lips pressed together—that stubborn resistance he’d fantasized about kissing away for years. She was still his Katarina, even with her world collapsing around her.

“You reached out to me for a reason, Kat,” he kept his voice low, aware of her brother in the next room. His heart rate was slowing, but it was still high enough to remind him that her safety mattered more than it should.

Her eyes met his, defiant against his scrutiny. “Maybe that was a mistake.”

“You know it wasn’t.” He reached out and took hold of her hand. Now he spotted the red weals around both wrists.

Someone had handcuffed her. Hurt her.

Rage flooded his system, primitive and violent. Someone had put their hands on her. “What the hell happened, Kat?”

She yanked her hand away from him, folding her arms to hide the evidence. She looked away, blinking.

“Kat—” He softened his voice, reining his fury back in. “I’m sorry. I just…seeing you hurt…”

She inhaled sharply, turning her luminous gaze back on him.

The composed woman he’d known for so long shimmered in front of him on the edge of shattering.

“They’re saying I committed treason, Leo.

They planted documents in my house. One of MI6’s most senior officers led the arrest. I panicked. I ran.”

“You did the right thing.” His voice carried absolute conviction. “Your instincts saved you.”

“I think Korolov might be involved.”

Korolov. Raptor. His blood ran cold. Fuck.

“Okay. We need to find out more.” He emphasized the we, wanting her to understand she wasn’t alone anymore. “Before we bring this to an end once and for all.”

She stood up. “Come through to the kitchen.”

He pushed up and followed, rolling his shoulder against the damage inflicted by her psycho brother. Worth it, if it brought him to her side when she needed him.

The kitchen was unapologetically masculine—stainless steel appliances gleaming like weapons, expensive Japanese knives mounted on the wall. A sleek espresso machine dominated one corner.

Much as his own space would look if it were not for Inga.

In this stark space, her brother pressed a bag of frozen peas against his swelling eye.

Leo didn’t regret the flicker of satisfaction that blipped through him at the damage he’d done, followed immediately by a split second of regret.

Starting a brawl with Kat’s brother wasn’t the most strategic approach.

“I’m not leaving,” Leo said, as he followed her into the room. “Not until this is sorted.”

She turned to face him, a slight release of tension in her shoulders.

He would help her clear her name. That was all. He couldn’t afford more, and neither could she. The past lay between them like a minefield, each step toward her risking destruction.

Men like him didn’t get second chances, didn’t get to hold something as precious as Kat Landon.

She sat down heavily in a chair, turned toward her brother. “Gage, this is Leonid Bychkov. Leonid, my brother Gage.”

Gage lowered the frozen peas, revealing the beginning of an impressive bruise around his left eye. He extended his free hand. “Charmed.”

Leo took it.

Their handshake lasted precisely two seconds. Gage squeezed harder than necessary, getting his measure of the stranger who had come for his sister.

Leo met him with equal pressure, unblinking as he forced a smile. “Likewise.”

The television hummed in the background, local news playing at low volume. Leo released Gage’s hand as the anchor’s voice suddenly sharpened into focus.

“—nationwide alert for Agent Katarina Landon, an MI6 officer wanted for questioning in relation to classified materials?—”

All three turned to face the screen where Kat’s professional headshot filled the display.

MI6 was upping the ante.

“—considered a person of interest in a developing national security matter. Kat Landon served as a Navy?—”

Leo switched his attention back to Kat. The pink of her cheeks drained, leaving her complexion waxy, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

She reached for the remote and muted the TV with one click. “I think that’s enough of my public career dismantlement.”

She blew out a breath. “They’ve escalated faster than I expected.

Eldridge wouldn’t have gone public this quickly unless she’s under pressure from someone higher up.

” She looked at Leo and transformed from hunted to hunter before his eyes.

This was the Kat he knew—the capable intelligence officer who had built her reputation on staying three steps ahead of her targets.

“Or unless Korolov has more influence at MI6 than we realized.”

“You think Korolov is involved in this?” Leo asked.

“He’s my best guess, yes. Without my intel, he might have extracted and sold Raptor’s data. This is personal.”

“So, what’s the plan?” Gage asked, replacing the peas against his eye.

Leo studied the muted television screen where Kat’s face had been replaced by footage of police vehicles outside MI6 headquarters.

“If Korolov is behind this, we need proof. My brother Zak can run background on Korolov’s recent activities, but he’ll need time. And time is something we don’t have.”

He tapped his fingers on the table, deciding. “We need someone with immediate access to London’s underground network. Someone who knows what Korolov’s people are doing in the city.”

“You have someone?” Kat asked.

“Brock.”

Gage straightened. “Desmond Brocklesby? The ex-SBS operative?”

Leo’s gaze snapped to Gage. “You know him?”

“I know of him.” Grudging respect crossed Gage’s features.

“Nothing gets past Brock,” Leo confirmed. “And he owes me a favor. He can give us the street-level intelligence we need.”

“We’ll also need access to MI6’s secure servers to find out what evidence they think they have against me,” Kat added.

Leo’s hands knotted at his side. “You can’t do this alone,” he said. “Every law enforcement officer in Britain is looking for you.”

“I know.” She smiled at him, and his heart skipped a beat. Just like that, she derailed his biology. “This is my life, my career. No one takes it from me without a fight.”

She turned to Gage. “I need you to do some digging on Victoria Eldridge for me. Can you do that?”

Gage lowered the bag of peas to the counter. His eye was now swollen completely shut. “Already on it, Kit-Kat.” He glanced between them. “Much as it pains me to agree with the man who tried to rearrange my face, you’ll get further with his help.”

Kat studied the grain of the kitchen table for a moment before looking up with clear determination. “Then let’s move. Brock first, then we develop our counteroffensive.”

The tightness in Leo’s chest as she looked at him was a warning. This was already more than professional courtesy.

This is dangerous.

There were lines he couldn’t cross, boundaries that kept them both safe.

He would help her because she needed him, because Korolov and Raptor needed to be stopped.

But that was all it could be. The warmth in her eyes when she said his name, the way his pulse escalated when he got too close—these were distractions he couldn’t afford.

Not if he wanted to keep her alive.

“We should go.” Leo said. “They’re going to come back here. Not immediately, but soon. Might even have eyes on the house already. You’re a sitting duck here.” He turned to her brother. “No offense.”

Gage cricked his neck. “None taken. Leave through the back garden. Over the fence,” Gage motioned. “It will take you to the next street. It’s an old woman who lives in there. She watches TV twenty-four seven. She won’t see you.”

Leo checked his watch. “We need to move. Our window’s closing.”

Kat drew a breath and squared her shoulders, the fatigue burning off her features like mist. “Let’s go see what Brock knows.”

They turned toward the back door—just as a siren wound up in the distance.

Gage caught Leo by the arm, fingers digging through fabric to muscle. The grip stopped Leo mid-stride—firm and deliberate, just shy of a challenge.

Leo looked down at the hand, then up into Gage’s face.

“Watch her back,” Gage said, low. “Every second. Every angle.”

Leo gave a single nod. “I will.”

Gage didn’t let go. His voice dropped even lower. “If anything happens to her—if she doesn’t come back to me whole—I’ll put you in the ground myself.”

Leo held his stare. This wasn’t drama. It was the promise men made when they had nothing left but family—and everything riding on it. He shook off the grip. Not fast, not slow. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”