Lena's jaw tightens. "You're really going to walk into an obvious trap?"
"I'm going to turn her trap against her." I cross to her, my hands finding her hips. "Trust me."
"I do trust you. That's what terrifies me." Her hands come up to rest on my chest, and even through my shirt, her touch burns. "What if something goes wrong?"
"Then Danil takes over. You'll be protected, provided for. I've made arrangements."
Her eyes narrow. "What kind of arrangements?"
"The kind that ensure you and our baby are safe no matter what happens to me." I lean down, pressing my forehead against hers. "But nothing is going to happen. I've survived worse than Katya Rostova."
"Have you?" Her voice drops to a whisper. "Because from where I'm standing, this feels different. More personal. More dangerous."
She's right, but I don't tell her that. Instead, I kiss her, slow and deep, tasting the fear on her tongue mixed with resignation. When I pull back, her eyes are wet.
"I need to meet with Danil," I say quietly. "Plan this properly. Will you be okay?"
She nods, but I see the lie in her eyes. Neither of us will be okay until this is over.
Danil waits in my office with Ronnie and two other captains I trust with my life. Maps are spread across my desk, and the warehouse location is marked in red.
"It's perfect ambush territory," Ronnie says, pointing to the building's layout. "Multiple entry points, high ceilings for shooters, limited escape routes."
"Which is exactly why she chose it." I study the map, my mind working through angles and possibilities. "She expects me to come in heavy, surrounded by men. That's what she's prepared for."
"So we do the opposite," Danil says, catching on immediately. "You go in light. Make her think she has the advantage."
"While you position men in every building within a three-block radius." I trace the surrounding structures with my finger. "Snipers on the roofs, teams ready to move in on my signal. She thinks she's setting the trap, but we're the ones controlling the board."
We spend the next three hours planning every detail. Escape routes, communication protocols, contingencies for every scenario I can imagine. By the time we finish, dawn is breaking outside my windows.
"Get some rest," I tell them. "We move at eleven tomorrow night."
After they leave, I pull out my laptop and open the file my lawyer prepared. My will, updated to reflect Lena's existence and our child's future. She'll have access to legitimate businesses, cleanmoney that can't be traced back to criminal operations. Enough to live comfortably for the rest of her life without ever needing to touch the darker side of my empire.
The day passes in a blur of final preparations. I meet with my captains, review security protocols, and make sure every contingency is covered. But my mind keeps drifting to Lena, to the way she looked at me this morning like she was memorizing my face.
By the time night falls, I can't stay away any longer.
Her door is unlocked, and I find her curled up in bed, staring at the ceiling. She doesn't look surprised when I enter, just turns her head to watch me approach.
"Couldn't sleep?" I ask, already knowing the answer.
"How can I sleep when you're about to walk into a death trap?" She sits up, and the sheet falls away from her chest. She's wearing one of my shirts, and the sight of her in my clothes makes something primal roar to life in my chest.
I strip off my shirt and pants, leaving them in a pile on the floor, then climb into bed beside her. My hands find the hem of the shirt she's wearing, and I pull it over her head slowly, revealing inch by inch of smooth skin that I've mapped with my tongue a hundred times.
"Aleksandr." Her voice is breathless, needy.
"I need you." The words come out rough, desperate.
She pulls me down to her, and the kiss is fierce, almost desperate. I need to be inside her, need to feel her wrapped around me, need to remember what I'm fighting for.
I enter her in one hard thrust, and we both groan at the sensation. There's no gentleness tonight, no slow buildup. Just raw need and the knowledge that this might be the last time.
She meets me thrust for thrust, her nails raking down my back hard enough to leave marks. Good. I want her marks on me when I face Katya tomorrow. Want to carry her with me into whatever comes next.
"Promise me," she gasps as I drive deeper. "Promise me you'll come back."