We shatter together. It’s a violent, beautiful collision of souls that leaves us both ruined and rebuilt in the same breath. The release is so powerful it feels like it’s stripping the skin from my bones, leaving nothing but the raw, pulsing reality of our love.
I collapse against her, my weight heavy and my breath coming in wrecked, sobbing hitches. For a long time, the only sound is the frantic beating of two hearts trying to find a single rhythm again. The fire hasn’t gone out—it has simply consumed us both, leaving us forged together in the ash.
Chapter 19 – Raelyn
I wake to the most peaceful feeling I’ve known in years—Konstantin’s arms around me, solid and warm, his breath brushing my shoulder, his palm spread over my stomach like a quiet vow. For one suspended moment, I let myself believe this is what safety feels like. That maybe—just maybe—love could be enough.
I’m smiling so wide my cheeks ache.
The room is hushed, light slipping in through the curtains in thin bands of gold. His heartbeat is steady beneath my ear. Unhurried. Certain. It lulls something inside me that’s been screaming for far too long. I stay still, afraid to break the spell, afraid that if I move, the world will remember us again.
His fingers shift in his sleep, tightening slightly, as if even unconscious, he knows where I am and intends to keep me there. The possessiveness should scare me. It does—somewhere. But right now it feels like an anchor.
I breathe him in. Cedar. Smoke. Morning. Him.
For a heartbeat, I imagine a life where this is ordinary. Waking up held. Smiling without thinking of bullets or notes or lies. Where my father’s name doesn’t echo like a wound. Where Konstantin isn’t a war wrapped in a man.
The fantasy is fragile. I know that.
He stirs, murmurs something low and rough, his chin dipping to my hair. My smile softens. I don’t look at him yet. I want to keep this version—this quiet, almost gentle man—untouched for another second.
Because the world will come back soon. It always does.
But right now, in this breath, in this hold, I let myself be happy.
Not for long.
The knock comes hard and loud—three sharp blows that slice straight through the room.
Konstantin is awake instantly.
There’s no grogginess. No hesitation. One second, he’s warm and half-asleep behind me, the next, his body shifts, solid and alert, rolling so he’s between me and the door. His arm comes across me, shielding, instinctive as breathing. I feel the sudden tension in him, coiled and ready.
My heart jolts.
“It’s okay,” I murmur, but he’s already moving.
“Good morning,moya dusha.” He presses a quick kiss to my cheek—soft, grounding—and reaches for a shirt, pulling it over me without even looking, his movements practiced, efficient.
“Come in,” he calls, voice steady, dangerous calm layered over whatever just snapped awake inside him.
I sit up behind him, clutching the fabric to my chest, watching his back as if it’s a wall I can lean on.
The door opens, and Nik steps in. One look at his face tells me this isn’t routine. His jaw is set, eyes hard, posture tight like he’s already bracing for impact.
“What?” Konstantin asks.
Nik doesn’t answer. He crosses the room and hands him a sealed envelope.
No markings.
No signature.
But my breath catches anyway.
The twine around it is rough, familiar—and tied to it is a small river stone.
My stomach drops.