Page 155 of Nikolay

Nikolay’s fingers threaded through mine.

“Come,” he said softly.

And I let him lead me home.

By the time we reached the Kozlov estate, I had barely crossed the threshold before they were on me.

Parker first, quick and sharp and compact, her arms around my middle before I’d even fully braced, brunette and pink hair a mess. Juliet right after, smaller and warm and already crying in that furious, relieved way women did when they had spent too long imagining the worst. Harper folded in with them, soft-voiced and trembling. Bree came too, all breathless concern and wide eyes, and suddenly I was in the middle of a tangle of perfume and sweet voices landing over one another so fast I couldn’t answer any of them properly.

“Oh my God…”

“Let me see your face…”

“We were losin' our minds with worry…”

“Jesus, Maddie…”

I laughed and cried at the same time, which did nothing useful for my dignity but seemed to reassure them more than any words could have.

“I’m okay,” I kept saying, because it was close enough to true to pass. “I’m okay. I’m here.”

I had already pulled Aspen into a grateful, shaking hug in the driveway before we came inside, because what she and Amelia had done in those woods had likely saved my life. She had looked exhausted and lovely and quietly fierce, and Big Papa had hovered behind her, his pride evident. Aspen’s little familiar, Oscar, had been sitting on her shoulder and gave me a proper British congratulations on coming out of the ordeal alive.

The women finally let me breathe. Juliet cupped my face between both hands and turned it gently toward the light.

Her eyes snagged on the bruise, already fading from deep, ugly purple toward a yellowed shadow under the bond’s strange restorative pull. “He hit you.”

The hall cooled by a degree.

I did not need to turn around to know who had heard that and stored it.

“Yeah,” I said.

Juliet’s mouth went thin with rage. Then she drew me into her arms one more time and squeezed hard. “He’s dead?”

“Yeah. Nikolay killed him.”

“Good.”

There are moments when a woman says exactly the right thing. This was such a moment.

After that, the household unfolded around me with almost military competence. Someone pressed tea into my hands. Someone else asked whether I wanted food now or after a shower. A member of staff appeared with fresh towels before I even thought to ask. I only realized halfway up the stairs that Nikolay had stayed one step behind me the entire time, silent as a shadow and just as present. He lingered until I shooed him out of the bathroom so I could shower.

Kazimir inclined his head when I entered the dining room. “Madelyn.”

“Sir.”

Nikolay was already on his feet before I reached my chair.

He pulled it out for me with the grave old-world courtesy that would have felt performative from another man, and somehow did not from him now. When I sat, he settled beside me and from that point forward never put more than a few inches between us.

His knee touched mine beneath the table almost immediately.

The meal began with the kind of formal grace that somehow only made the noise that followed feel warmer. Once plates were served and wine poured and the first edge of hunger had been taken off, the room loosened by degrees. Conversation rose and crossed and doubled back.

Between courses, Nikolay’s hand found mine beneath the table.

No flourish. No announcement.