Page 37

RUTHIE

The stillness is deceptive. Even I know by now not to trust it.

A part of me longs for peace, for predictability, for a future that’s clear and dependable.

And a part of me wants action. I want to fight.

I want to defend. I want to use my energy and whatever I have to offer to bring a fucking end to the pain and tragedy that’s descended on this family. To Luka. To Vadka.

Outside the estate, the sun hangs low where the session’s been planned. We’ve been practicing all day long. Not a real ambush—yet—but close enough. Vadka and Rafail made sure of that.

The men don’t just need drills. They need to be ready. Ready like I’ll have to be.

He stands near the back exit, already in tactical black, sleeves rolled, neck taut. Watching .

Mmm. I need a little wallet-size print of him to slide into my pocket, looking just like that.

Always watching.

The vest smells like him, leather and a hint of something spicy and woodsy. Too big across my shoulders, but I try to tighten it anyway. My fingers work the buckles too fast, too rough. I don’t care.

I need the armor. Maybe could use another damn layer.

Sigh.

Outside, I can hear boots shifting in gravel, voices low and clipped. Controlled tension. Everyone knows what this is.

My own pulse is too loud in my ears.

I sense him before I hear him.

“Five minutes,” he says from the doorway. His voice gentles when his eyes lock with mine. “You look adorable.”

Adorable? Really?

I finish the last strap and force my body to stillness.

I wink at him. “You’re not so bad yourself.” His black outfit is outfitted with weapons. Scary sexy. I can’t control the flutter in my heart or the need to step closer to him. To feel him.

“I’m ready.”

He steps toward me, slow and deliberate. His presence fills the space like smoke—thick, suffocating, impossible to ignore, his eyes on mine unwavering. And I know right then, dressed in protective gear, on the cusp of practicing actual fucking combat, I’ve… never been happier.

Happy. He makes me happy.

And I realize that it’s the first time I’ve felt more happiness than grief since my sister left this world. I blink so he doesn’t see my shimmering eyes.

“You look like you don’t want to do this.”

I clear my throat and laugh it off. “Would rather be maybe on a beach in Maui, but this is fine. It’ll do.”

He smiles. Barely. “Good,” he says. “Because it’s time.” He leans in closer. “And when this is all over, Ruthie? When we’re at peace and safe again. I won’t hold back.”

Why does that make my pulse spike?

I shove past him, shoulder bumping his—hard. A challenge. “Didn’t ask you to.”

His gaze drags down my spine, and I know it—can feel it like heat at my back. It makes my skin prickle and my breath catch, even as I hate it. Hate him for making me feel anything but fear.

He follows. Of course he does.

Outside, everyone’s assembling. Practice, they say. But is it really? Not with the way Vadka sets the tempo. Not with the threat breathing down our necks.

I reach for a pair of gloves, but he’s already there. Close behind. Too close.

Turning to me, he adjusts a strap on my vest. Then another. His fingers graze my ribs, and I freeze.

Not just from the touch.

He could press harder. Pull tighter. He doesn’t. He touches just enough to remind me who’s in control—and how badly he wants me to feel it. I feel fully handled when he touches me like that, and I never knew how badly I craved it.

“You don’t trust them yet,” he murmurs, his breath brushing the curve of my ear.

It isn’t just trust. I’m not one of them yet, not like my sister was and definitely not like he is.

“No,” I say. “You know me.” My voice is husky. “I don’t trust anyone.”

It’s a lie though. I trust him .

I feel the shift in him—that pause—that inhale like he’s biting back something darker.

I turn my face toward him slowly. Our noses almost brush.

His hand lingers a second too long on my waist, then drops.

He steps back.

“Stay behind Zoya,” he orders, all commander.

My skin is prickly, and my god, I want him.

Now. I’m wet. Wet, like a fucking Pavlovian dog at his command and presence.

I might’ve been guilty as fuck falling in love with him, but I can say with absolute honesty that I never felt like this with him before. But now?

We stare at each other, and I hate how quiet it gets.

Because I’m not just gearing up for a training drill .

I push back the memory of my fears, of what I thought back at the bar and shake my head. I can’t deal with that, not now. I have to compartmentalize. I have to deal with the present.

“No fucking around, Ruthie,” he says, holding me by the front of the vest, two straps anchored in his fists. “You get me?” He doesn’t blink… just bends down and holds my gaze. “If it turns real,” he adds, “I’ll get to you first.”

I scoff. “Romantic.” Even as my heart thumps madly in my chest.

He smirks.

“No.” His voice drops, low and sharp. “Strategy.”

“Sounds good, Captain. ”

He narrows his eyes at me. “Listen to me, woman. Behave yourself.”

Thump.

“Or what?”

He slides a knuckle under my chin. “Or I’ll have to make sure to teach you a lesson, won’t I?”

Won’t he? I melt like butter on a frying pan but manage to stand upright. Yay me.

We need to get this behind us. To get back on solid footing. To stop running from our enemies and establish… whatever comes next.

I gulp as Rafail starts shouting orders, and we fall into line. My stomach twists, but not from nerves. Not exactly .

There’s a part of me trying not to feel.

Not now. Not here. Not while I’m counting days and pretending I’m not holding my breath.