“But you,” he continues, eyes never leaving mine, voice dropping even lower, “you stay alive. With me.”
The words hit like a blow to the chest.
Not a command.
A vow.
I open my mouth to respond—to argue, to reject it, to say anything—
The alarms explode through the house.
Red lights flash. A sharp, metallic wail slices through the air, violent and unforgiving.
“Movement detected,” a voice barks over the system. “Southern fence. Visual breach.”
Everything changes at once.
Konstantin’s hand clamps around my wrist, firm, unyielding. “Move.”
He pulls me behind him as the mansion erupts into controlled chaos—boots pounding, weapons cocking, voices snapping orders in rapid Russian. Guards flood the halls from every direction, moving with brutal efficiency.
“What’s happening?” I gasp, barely keeping up as he drags me forward.
“They’re closer than I thought,” he says, already scanning corners, body angled to shield mine without hesitation.
We turn sharply, heading deeper into the estate. Reinforced doors slide open at his command. Steel locks disengage. The walls feel thicker here. Heavier. Like the house itself is bracing for impact.
My heart is hammering so hard it hurts.
This isn’t a scare tactic.
This isn’t control.
This is war.
Another alert screams, “Visual lost. Possible multiple operatives.”
Konstantin curses under his breath and pulls me into the inner corridor, pressing me briefly against the wall as armed men rush past us. His hand moves to my back, grounding, possessive, protective in a way that steals my breath.
“Stay behind me,” he orders.
For once, I don’t argue.
Because in that moment, with alarms blaring and shadows slipping through the perimeter, I finally understand—
The danger is real.
It’s close.
And somehow—terrifyingly—I’m the center of it.
Chapter 10 – Konstantin
Night presses in around the mansion, thick and heavy. The grounds are crawling with guards, their flashlights cutting through the darkness, but the intruder has vanished—slipped away like smoke, leaving nothing but tension behind.
I return to the secure room where I left Raelyn hours ago, my hair mussed, shirt unbuttoned at the throat, fingers still tingling from the adrenaline that hasn’t yet drained. The echo of alarms, the pounding of boots—it all lingers in my veins.
She’s sitting curled in the armchair, a blanket draped around her shoulders, pale in the dim light yet unyielding. Her eyes are fixed on me, unwavering, measuring, calculating.