Page 56 of The Russian's Revenge Bride

She propped herself up on her elbow, studying my face with those hazel eyes that saw too fucking much. “But you didn’t know I’d left to meet Arlette.”

The admission tasted like acid in my mouth. “No. I didn’t.”

“How is that possible? You said you track everything.”

“I track everything that goes through official channels. But you went through Anya, and she….” I trailed off, not wantingto throw my sister under the bus for a decision that had nearly cost Eleanor her life.

“She covered for me.”

“She did what she thought was right. Giving you the freedom you needed while keeping you protected.” I met her eyes, letting her see the guilt that had been eating at me since I’d seen her bloodied and shaking in that destroyed car. “It nearly got you killed.”

“But it didn’t. You saved me.”

“Barely. If Rafael hadn’t been monitoring traffic patterns, if Dmitry hadn’t noticed your car’s GPS signature moving through the wrong part of the city….” I didn’t finish the sentence. Couldn’t finish it. The alternative was too fucking terrifying to voice.

Eleanor was quiet for a moment, processing this information. “Who’s Dmitry?”

“Dmitry Chertov. One of Rafael’s most trusted associates. He handles coordination between our various operations, keeps track of logistics and personnel movements.”

“And he was watching my car?”

“He was watching all our cars. It’s his job to know where every asset is at any given time.” I pulled her closer, needing the reassurance of her warmth against my skin. “If he hadn’t flagged the anomaly, if he hadn’t brought it to Rafael’s attention….”

I didn’t need to finish. We both knew how close I’d come to losing her today, how many small coincidences and routine protocols had combined to keep her breathing.

“I need to go,” I said, though every fiber of my being rebelled against the idea of leaving her alone. “Rafael’s waiting for my report.”

“How long?”

“An hour, maybe two.”

She nodded, understanding in a way that most wives never would. This was the world we lived in now, where debriefings and damage assessments took precedence over everything else, where the machinery of war never stopped grinding long enough for the luxury of extended pillow talk.

“Be careful,” she said, pressing a kiss to my chest.

“Always am.”

“No, you’re not. You’re reckless when it comes to protecting the people you care about. I’ve seen it.”

The accuracy of her assessment hit me like a physical blow. She was right, of course. When it came to Eleanor’s safety, I’d throw caution to the wind and charge into hell with nothing but bullets and determination.

“Promise me,” she continued, her voice soft but insistent. “Whatever this meeting is about, whatever you’re planning, promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

“Define stupid.”

“Anything that might get you killed before you make it back to this bed.”

I captured her mouth in a kiss that was meant to be brief but quickly deepened into something that made leaving even harder. When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing hard.

“I promise,” I said, meaning it even as I wondered if it were a promise I’d be able to keep.

Twenty minutes later, I was walking into my office to find Rafael already seated behind my desk, his expensive suit wrinkled and his usually perfect hair showing signs of stress. Cassandra sat across from him, her tablet open and her expression grim.

“You look like shit,” Rafael observed without preamble.

“Fuck you too.”

“How’s Eleanor?”