Page 54

I knew the moment she saw me covered in blood earlier last night that she would try to run again. I didn’t mean to scare her, but a dark, selfish part of me is glad she finally saw that side of me. The real me. The one soaked in violence and darkness. She’s looked the devil in the eyes now, and there’s no unseeing it.

The question is no longer if she’ll run, but when she’ll stop. When she’ll finally come to her senses and accept the truth: she belongs with me. To me.

The second Dmitri radioed that she was arguing with him, pretending she was just “going for a walk,” I knew. She’s getting smarter, at least. No suitcase this time.

I pull the car into the driveway and kill the engine. The house is silent. Everyone has gone to bed. The staff have retired to their quarters, and the lights are dimmed low. This place used to be nothing but cold marble and empty rooms. Now, because of Rosie and Anya, it’s starting to feel like a home.

And she wants to leave? Not happening.

I head upstairs first to Anya’s room. I open the door slowly, careful not to wake her. The nightlight casts a soft pink glow over her small form. She’s curled up tight, clutching a stuffed wolf, her dark hair fanned across the pillow.

I move quietly to the bed and brush a few strands away from her face. She doesn’t stir. I lean down and press a gentle kiss to her forehead, breathing in her innocent, baby shampoo scent.

“Sleep well, malyshka,” I whisper.

I check the windows, making sure they are locked, before slipping back out and closing the door behind me.

When I reach our bedroom, I find Rosie exactly where I expected her to be. She’s sitting in the wide armchair by the tall window, staring out into the dark garden. The moonlight catches the strands of her strawberry-blonde hair, turning it silver. Her shoulders are tense, her posture rigid. From the way her hair is slightly mussed and her robe is pulled tight around her like armor, I can tell she hasn’t slept at all.

I pause in the doorway, taking her in. My woman. Still fighting me with every breath.

“Another nightmare?” I ask quietly, stepping inside and closing the door behind me with a soft click.

She doesn’t turn around. Her voice is flat, hollow. “My life is a nightmare.”

I shrug out of my jacket, draping it over the back of a chair. My fingers move to the cufflinks, unfastening them one by one with deliberate calm. The metallic clink as I set them on the dresser is the only sound between us for a moment.

“You tried to run again,” I say, stating the fact without heat.

She finally glances over her shoulder, eyes flashing with defiance even through her exhaustion. “You and your men need to get your facts straight. I was only going for a walk. I didn’t know that wasn’t allowed.”

I let out a low, humorless chuckle as I roll up my sleeves, exposing the dark ink on my forearms.

“A walk,” I repeat, tasting the lie on my tongue. “With your passports in your pocket.”

She looks surprised, and I nod. “Yeah, I knew, maybe try hiding them better next time.”

I cross the room slowly until I’m standing behind her chair. I don’t touch her yet, but I’m close enough that she can feel the heat of my body.

“Try again, Rosie.”

She stays silent, jaw tight, staring out the window like the night might offer her an escape. I rest one hand on the back of the chair, leaning down until my lips are close to her ear.

“You can keep running, plamya. But we both know how this ends every time.”

I brush a strand of hair behind her ear, my voice dropping lower.

“You belong here. With me. The sooner you accept that, the easier this will be for both of us.”

She huffs. “As I said, I wasn’t trying to run; I was going for a walk. But thanks for letting me know that isn’t allowed.” Her tone drips with sarcasm.

I stand upright and shrug out of my shirt, letting it drop to the floor, and start undoing my belt.

“No one said you weren’t allowed to go for a walk,” I say calmly. “Or did Dmitri tell you that you couldn’t?”

Rosie’s shoulders stiffen. “I’d rather not be followed everywhere. I don’t need your men hovering around me like I’m a prisoner.”

I rub my temple; she’s giving me a headache. “It’s for your safety. How many times do I have to tell you that?”