Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 65104 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65104 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
But when I saw Lyra in that closet, alone and terrified, those lies burned away. It didn’t even occur to me to tell my men to save Rurik for me. For the first time in my life, vengeance is not the point. The only thing I need is her, alive, breathing, whole. If Alek or Radimir or anyone else wants to finish Rurik, so be it. I don’t care if the man rots in a ditch with no name. As long as I have her back in my arms, the feud can be settled by anyone.
We cling to each other in the wreckage of the warehouse. The smell of gunpowder still lingers, sharp and acrid, mixing with the faint sting of smoke. My men’s voices echo down the halls, shouting orders, confirming kills, clearing corners. But none of it reaches me. All I hear is the small, broken sounds Lyra makes when she finally lets herself cry against me, and all I feel is her hands clutching my shirt as if she’s afraid I might disappear.
I lower my head to hers and whisper, words only for us. “I’ve got you. It’s over. You’re safe. No one will ever take you from me again.”
Her voice trembles as she answers. “I knew you’d rescue me.”
Those words slice me open and heal me all at once. I kiss her temple, her hairline, the corner of her mouth.
“Always, Lyra. I’ll always rescue you.”
We murmur back and forth, soft confessions and reassurances, words spoken in the fragile hush after a storm. It calms her. It calms me. It reminds us that we are still here, together. My arms tighten around her until I almost fear I might break her, but she doesn’t resist. She clings tighter, and it feels like the two of us could merge into one person if we held on long enough.
The door creaks open and someone steps inside, boots heavy.
Alek’s voice cuts through the quiet, low and certain. “It’s over.”
He scans the room, his rifle hanging low now, his eyes sharp but tired.
“They’re all dead,” he continues. “Every last one of them. We need to go.”
I nod once, my jaw tightening, but my focus never shifts from Lyra. I press one more kiss to her forehead and then stand, pulling her up with me, keeping her close against my side. Her legs are shaky, but my arm is firm around her waist. I won’t let her fall.
We move through the corridor, stepping over the bodies of men who, only hours ago, thought they had the right to touch her, to threaten her. I angle her away so she doesn’t have to see them. Her face stays pressed against my chest, her steps small but determined. My men stand at attention as we pass, weapons lowered, eyes filled with relief and respect. They bow their heads slightly, and I know they would have died for this outcome, for her safety. I give a short nod of acknowledgment but keep moving.
Outside, the night air is cold, biting against my sweat-soaked skin. The SUVs idle, engines rumbling low in the darkness, headlights casting long beams across the gravel. My men form a protective circle, scanning every angle, though the danger is gone. Rurik’s men are finished. His reign of terror ends here.
I help Lyra into the backseat of the lead SUV, sliding in beside her instead of taking the front as I usually do. I need her within reach. Alek takes the passenger seat, Radimir the wheel. The others file into the remaining cars, forming a convoy as we pull away from the warehouse and leave the ashes of this war behind us.
Lyra curls into my side, her head resting against my chest. I press my lips to her hair and hold her as if the motion alone can anchor us both. Her breathing steadies, though her hands remain knotted in my shirt. I rub slow circles on her back, murmuring that she’s safe now, that I won’t let anything touch her again. She sighs against me, and I feel some of the tension drain out of her body.
The city rolls past outside the tinted glass, but I barely register it. All I see is her. All I feel is the rise and fall of her breaths. I think of the life growing inside her, our child, and my chest constricts with a mix of fear and awe. Tonight could have ended with me losing them both. The thought makes me tighten my hold even more.
By the time we reach the underground garage of my building, the adrenaline has begun to ebb, leaving behind exhaustion like lead in my bones. Still, I lift her into my arms the moment the door opens, ignoring her soft protest that she can walk. I carry her through the private entrance, into the elevator, up to the penthouse. My men fan out to secure the perimeter, but I hardly notice.