The fire crackled low in the hearth, casting long shadows on the walls of Lukyan's study. Outside, snow fell like whispers in the night, coating the glass windows in frost.
Larissa sat curled in one of the leather armchairs, her legs drawn under her, a blanket draped loosely over her lap. She wasn't cold—not really. But something in her chest wouldn't stop shaking.
Lukyan was pacing.
Not his usual, controlled strides. This was different—tense, restless.
The message had changed everything. Again.
"You're not safe here," he said finally, his voice low, clipped.
She looked up. "I thought we were."
"So did I." He turned toward her, eyes darker than usual. "Whoever sent that message had clearance to access military-encrypted servers. That means we're dealing with more than just criminals now. Someone powerful. Someone hidden."
Her fingers tightened on the blanket. "But Dmitri's gone."
"This isn't about Dmitri anymore," he said. "This is about what he knew—and what someone else doesn't want exposed."
The fire popped.
Larissa studied him for a long moment. "And what about us?"
Lukyan stilled.
She rose slowly, stepping out of the shadows, walking toward him with measured steps.
"You said you didn't care about fair," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "You said you cared about me. About the children."
"I meant it."
She stopped inches from him. "Then tell me something true."
He frowned. "Larissa—"
"Tell me why you didn't walk away from this contract when you could've. When you had a dozen chances."
He hesitated. Then:
"Because I didn't want to," he said, quietly. "Because every year, I found one more reason to stay."
Her breath hitched. "Even when I tried to push you away?"
"Especially then."
She stared at him, heart pounding. "You said two years was a long time. Is that how long you'll wait for me to make up my mind?"
"No," he said. "I'll wait as long as it takes."
Then he reached out—tentatively, like she might vanish—and brushed a strand of hair from her face. His touch lingered on her cheek.
"You've always been the one thing I couldn't control," he whispered.
She leaned into him, just enough to feel the warmth of his breath. "Then stop trying."
Their lips met—tentative at first, like testing a boundary neither wanted to cross. But then something broke open. He pulled her into his arms, and she didn't resist. Her fingers tangled in his shirt, and the taste of him was all heat and desperation and everything they'd held back for far too long.
When they broke apart, breathless, Larissa's eyes searched his. "I'm scared."
"So am I," Lukyan said. "But I've never wanted something more."
A knock shattered the moment.
They froze.
Another knock. Sharper this time. Followed by a low voice:
"Sir, we found something."
Later That Night
Lukyan spread the files across the table.
Security camera stills. Satellite imagery. A blurry photo of a man in a black coat, watching the estate from the tree line.
"Recognize him?" his security chief asked.
Lukyan's jaw clenched. "No. But he's not just watching. He's waiting."
Larissa stared at the photo. There was something familiar in the man's stance. Not his face—it was turned away—but something about the way he stood, like he belonged to shadows.
"What do they want from us?" she whispered.
"I don't know," Lukyan said. "But I know one thing."
She looked at him.
"They're not going to get us