The safehouse was nothing like their estate.
No glittering chandeliers. No grand staircases or ivory columns. Just stone walls, bulletproof glass, and the low, steady hum of reinforced generators that promised one thing—protection.
Larissa sat curled on the edge of a wide leather couch, her laptop open but forgotten on her lap. She watched Lukyan across the room, speaking quietly with one of his security officers.
His tone was clipped. Cold. But Larissa saw the tension in his shoulders.
He was unraveling. Bit by bit.
Just like her.
They hadn't spoken since the escape.
The children were asleep in the next room. She'd checked on them four times already. Alina hadn't stirred once, and yet Larissa couldn't stop imagining the footprints by the window. The freezing wind sneaking in. The possibility that—
No. She couldn't let her mind go there.
Lukyan ended the call and crossed to her. His expression was unreadable.
"We found the car," he said.
She blinked. "Dmitri?"
He nodded. "Left abandoned near the Zurich border. Whoever was driving it fled on foot before backup arrived."
Larissa's lips tightened. "He's escalating."
"He's desperate."
"And dangerous."
They stood in silence.
Then Lukyan crouched in front of her, eyes searching hers. "I need you to trust me."
She swallowed. "I do. But trust won't stop him."
"I'm not just trusting fate," he said. "I've set a trap."
Larissa's spine straightened. "What kind of trap?"
He reached into his coat and pulled out a sleek flash drive. "You remember the lab data you gave me. The files Dmitri wanted hidden?"
"Yes…"
"I sent a copy to Interpol. But I left a backdoor open. One he'll trace if he's watching. And he is watching."
"You're baiting him," she whispered.
"I'm luring him to the one place he thinks is secure."
"Where?"
Lukyan's smile was grim. "Ashborne Clinic."
Her pulse stuttered.
"That place has been shut down for years—"
"Officially. But Dmitri's been using it as a ghost lab. My contacts confirmed movement there last month. If he believes I've found it… he'll go back to erase it."
"And you'll be waiting."
He nodded. "We'll take him down on our terms."
For the first time in days, Larissa let out a shaky breath. It wasn't hope. Not yet. But it was something close.
Then she met Lukyan's gaze.
"And when this is over?"
His expression softened. "Then you're free."
Her chest ached.
He still remembered the contract.
Still held onto her decision to leave.
Even now.
Even after all this.
The next morning
The children were taken to a second safehouse. Larissa insisted on going with them, but Lukyan refused.
"If anything happens to me," he said quietly, "you're their only anchor. Stay with them."
She had never hated being powerless more.
But she knew he was right.
Hours later, after he left with the team, the house fell silent.
She stared at her phone. At the blinking cursor in her note app. She'd begun drafting her testimony for the ministry—proof that Dmitri was a threat. That Lukyan was their rightful guardian. That her daughter wasn't a pawn.
But every sentence felt like a lie.
She wasn't writing a legal defense.
She was writing a goodbye.
Because if Lukyan didn't return, the rest wouldn't matter.
Ashborne Clinic – 9:17PM
Lukyan moved through the dark corridor with a calculated precision. The building reeked of mildew, ammonia, and decay. Faded posters still hung on the walls—vintage ads for psychiatric medications long since banned.
He signaled to his team to flank left.
Every step forward was a memory.
This was the place where he had once watched his own mother be turned into a shell. Where Dmitri's experiments had first begun, years before he made them public.
A creak echoed down the hall.
He froze.
Then a voice—low, slithering—emerged from the shadows.
"Little brother. Still playing hero?"
Dmitri stepped out of the dark.
His silver hair was slicked back, face lined with age and arrogance. But his eyes—those cold, inhuman eyes—were unchanged.
Lukyan raised his gun.
Dmitri raised his hands. "You've always had such good instincts. Shame you chose the wrong side."
"You came for my daughter."
"She's not your daughter," Dmitri said. "She's a genetic miracle. The perfect blend of legacy and advancement. I want to protect her."
"You mean control her."
Dmitri's smile widened. "Control is protection."
Lukyan didn't wait. He fired.
Dmitri ducked just in time, diving behind a desk as glass shattered and alarms blared.
His team flooded in, chaos erupting like a match to gasoline.
Lukyan moved with lethal grace, pushing forward, chasing the one man who had haunted his past—and now threatened his future.
The gunfire was deafening.
But through it all, Lukyan saw one image burning in his mind:
Alina's face.
And Larissa's eyes.
He would not let them fall to this monster.
Not again.
Back at the safehouse
Larissa sat frozen on the couch, the news broadcast crackling on the screen.
"BREAKING: Armed conflict reported at abandoned psychiatric hospital outside Geneva. Sources suggest ties to an international medical conspiracy—"
Her phone rang.
She answered in a rush. "Lukyan?"
Silence.
Then his voice—hoarse, exhausted.
"It's done."
Her eyes filled with tears. "You're alive."
He chuckled weakly. "Barely."
"What happened?"
"Interpol took him. He resisted. Got a bullet in the leg for his trouble."
She pressed her hand over her mouth, overwhelmed.
"He won't come near us again," Lukyan said. "It's over."
She didn't realize she was crying until the tears hit her collar.
But they weren't just tears of relief.
They were tears of fear.
Because now that it was over…
She had no excuse left to stay.
And Lukyan… hadn't asked her to.