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YULIAN

Mia’s stubbornness clings to me all morning. My skin crawls with frustration and barely suppressed rage. Focusing on work is impossible—all I can think about is her recklessness, her refusal to obey.

She’s carrying my child. Mine. And yet, she keeps acting like she’s got no one else to answer to.

Then fucking remind her, the dark part of me urges. Call the shots. Show her who’s in charge.

But I can’t. Because that would make me exactly like him.

I grind my teeth into dust the whole way back to the penthouse. Mia said she would be back at noon with her boxes. I’m going to make damn sure she’s keeping her word.

Fuck knows she has a shit track record at that.

“You’re being unfair to her, you know.” Maksim speaks like he’s been reading my thoughts. He’s lint off his jacket as he watches me pace a hole through my own living room floor. “Mia’s always been responsible. She won’t put the rugrat in danger.”

“Excuse me if I don’t take your word for it.”

“You don’t have to. Take history’s.”

“Which part of history?” I ask. “The part where she lied to me? Where she let me think for months the child she was carrying was Brad’s?”

“How about the part where she did it all to protect her son from a bullet?”

I flex my jaw and don’t reply.

The truth is, Maksim is right. I know he’s fucking right. But every part of me rebels against acknowledging Mia’s innocence.

Because if she’s innocent, then I’m the one who wronged her.

It goes against everything I’ve ever believed. My whole creed is rooted in one simple thing: I am the leader, the alpha, the one who commands armies. For the men who serve under me, I am absolute. My judgment doesn’t just make the difference between life and death—it is the difference.

And the last time I had a lapse, it cost me everything.

So I don’t make mistakes anymore. I can’t.

And Mia will just have to accept that.

“Go back to the office,” I order Maksim. I don’t need anyone questioning me right now.

“Suit yourself,” he grumbles. “But you can’t keep pushing her. Sooner or later, you’re going to push her all the way out the door.”

“I’ll take that under advisement.”

Maksim’s face twists into a scowl at my sarcasm. “Fine, be like that. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Warnings. I’ve had enough of them. First Desya, now Maksim—just who the fuck does everybody think they are?

I sit at the counter, steeple my fingers.

Right now, Desya could be anywhere. I left Nikita with Mia today, but will she be enough?

She hasn’t been the same since the kidnapping, and we both know it.

She’s more scattered, less focused. Frailer.

Hasn’t put back a single ounce of muscle.

I can’t even remember the last time I saw her eat.

But that’s why she’s got backup. Four trained bodyguards, ready to lay waste to the world at my command or hers. And she may be weaker now, but she’s still the best I’ve got.

The only one who comes close is Maksim, but I can’t always spare him. Besides, he’s not as fast.

And Desya won’t think twice about killing him.

He likes Nikita, though—Desya does, I mean. For some reason, he enjoys toying with her. It makes me want to tear his head right off his neck, remembering how he dangled Kira’s death in front of her. In front of us.

But a game of cat and mouse is better than an ambush, and if Nikita can get him to lower his guard, then so be it.

I lose myself in memories of yesterday. The mansion. The room where I lost everything. Mia, tied to a chair with a knife to her throat.

I can’t lose her. I won’t lose her. Whether she agrees or not, she is mine.

And I’m never going to let Desya Bogdanov take what’s mine ever again.

It’s nearly one in the afternoon when Mia finally pushes the door open. “Yulian?” she calls from behind two heaped boxes. “Are you here? I thought you’d be at w?—”

“What the hell took you so long?”

She recoils from the sharpness of my words. “Excuse me?”

“You said you’d be back at noon,” I say. “It’s not noon.”

She dumps the boxes on the ground and fixes me with a glare that could cut through glass. “There were roaches in the apartment,” she grits. “Packing up took longer than expected.”

“And you didn’t think to warn me?”

“I didn’t think you’d be sitting here in the dark, waiting to catch me in the act like—like?—”

“Like what?” I take one step forward, casting my shadow over Mia’s small frame. “Say it, Mia.”

“Like him. ”

Her words cut deep. Deeper than I want to admit, even to myself. But what cuts deeper still is the look on her face. Pure heartbreak.

I turn around and force myself to breathe. Long, deep—enough to stifle the flames burning inside me. But all it does is fan them higher.

“I’m nothing like him.”

“I used to think that, you know.” Mia walks up to me, her shoulders squared, her eyes unafraid. Challenging me. “But then you lied to me. You put me in Prizrak’s crosshairs, put my son in danger?—”

“When are you going to let it fucking go?” I ask. “I had it under control! I was going to protect you!”

“Well, tough shit, because you didn’t! ”

Mia is panting hard now, face red and hot. It reminds me of all the ways I’ve seen her like that before: every fight, every argument. Every night spent together in the dark.

“You didn’t,” she repeats. “Instead, I had to protect us. I had to crawl back into a monster’s den, all because of the shit you did.

So, you wanna know when I’m going to get over it?

” Her voice cracks, but doesn’t break. “I wish I fucking knew. Maybe tomorrow, maybe never. But you sure as hell don’t get to demand my forgiveness. Not when you haven’t even apologized.”

Never.

That word gets stuck in my head. It drowns out all else, replacing it with a pounding in my skull, a ringing in my ears.

Then the door flies open.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Maksim wheezes. He looks like he’s been running. “We’ve got a situation downstairs.”

“Not now, Maks.”

“Yes, now, Yulian.”

I turn around with fire in my eyes. “I said ? — ”

“Slavik is dead.”