The masked man collapsed first—head snapping sideways as a clean shot tore through his temple. The two guards on the jet stairs crumpled seconds later, rifles clattering as they fell in lifeless heaps down the steps.
I gasped, stumbling back again.
A sniper.
Hidden. Patient. Watching the entire time.
Dmitri didn’t spare the bodies a single glance.
“These men,” he said calmly, folding his arms as though discussing poor business etiquette, “thought they could extract you from my territory.” His eyes returned to me, dark and assessing. “Without asking permission.”
“Please,” I whispered, the word tearing out of me before pride could stop it. “I’m begging you. Let me go.”
He closed the distance in three long strides.
His hand wrapped around my upper arm—firm, possessive. The contact sent electricity racing across my skin, goosebumps erupting everywhere.
My breath stuttered.
He leaned in close, his mouth brushing my ear, his breath warm against the cold night.
“I want to marry you.”
The words hit harder than the gunshots.
I jerked back, staring at him like he’d spoken a foreign language.
“Excuse me?”
He released my arm only long enough to reach into his coat pocket. Slowly. As if daring anyone to challenge him.
He pulled out a small velvet box.
Flipped it open.
Inside, a ring caught the floodlights—platinum band, a single flawless diamond. Understated. Immaculate. The kind of ring chosen by someone who didn’t need to prove wealth because power already bent to him.
Before I could react, he took my left hand.
Gentle. I felt the weight of his attention more than the weight of the ring as he slid it onto my finger.
It fit perfectly.
Too perfectly.
“I feel like there’s more to my past than I’ve been told,” he said quietly.
The words didn’t come with drama or accusation. Just certainty.
“And marrying me,” I asked, carefully, “helps how?”
He studied my face the way a man studies a code he’s already half-broken.
“I’m not a fool, Penelope.” His eyes locked onto mine, sharp and unflinching. “I know exactly who you are.”
My heart stuttered.
“You—” The word caught in my throat.