Waking up in Dimitri's arms felt like a dream I hadn't been invited to.
The light filtering through the heavy velvet curtains was soft, casting a golden glow over the rumpled silk sheets. Dimitri was still asleep—a sight I never thought I'd see. Without the armor of his three-piece suit and the mask of the Pakhan, he looked younger. Vulnerable. His arm was draped heavily over my waist, his fingers curled slightly against my skin as if even in sleep, he was refusing to let go.
I watched the slow rise and fall of his chest, my heart aching with a mixture of terror and tenderness. Last night hadn't just been sex. It had been an earthquake. I had seen the ghost of Sofia in his eyes, and I had chased it away with my own body.
Dimitri stirred, his eyes fluttering open. For a split second, they were soft, filled with a hazy warmth I didn't recognize. Then, the memories of the night before flooded back, and his gaze sharpened, turning intense and possessive.
"Maya," he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. He pulled me closer, his face burying in the crook of my neck. "I thought I imagined you."
"I'm here," I whispered, my fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "Last night... it changed things, didn't it?"
Dimitri pulled back just enough to look me in the eye. "It changed everything. There is no going back to contracts and six-month deadlines, Maya. You know that."
"I know."
He leaned in to kiss me—a slow, lingering promise—but the moment was shattered by a heavy, frantic pounding on the bedroom door.
Dimitri was out of bed and reaching for the handgun on the nightstand before I could even draw a breath. The softness was gone. The Ice Pakhan was back.
"What?" he barked, his voice like a whip.
"Pakhan, it's Yuri," came the muffled voice through the door. It sounded strained. "We have a problem. The Brooklyn warehouse. It's gone."
Dimitri's face went white. He didn't say a word as he grabbed a pair of trousers and a shirt from the chair. He looked at me, his eyes filled with a dark, simmering fury. "Stay here. Do not get out of this bed until I tell you."
He vanished into the hall. I didn't listen. I threw on his discarded silk robe and followed him to the top of the stairs.
Down in the foyer, Yuri was covered in soot, his shirt torn. Viktor was there too, pacing like a caged animal.
"They hit it at four AM," Yuri was saying, his voice gravelly. "Thermite. The whole shipment of medical supplies—the ones we were supposed to move for the government—it's ash. And Dimitri..." Yuri hesitated, looking down at his boots. "Mikhail was on the night shift. He didn't make it."
I gasped, my hand flying to my mouth. Mikhail. He was the young guard who had smiled at me when I first arrived. He was barely twenty.
Dimitri's silence was more terrifying than any scream. He stood perfectly still, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. The air around him seemed to vibrate with a lethal energy.
"The Romanos," Dimitri said, his voice a low, terrifying hum.
"They left a tag on the brickwork," Viktor spat, his face twisted in a snarl. "A red rose dipped in gasoline. They aren't even hiding it anymore."
Dimitri turned, his gaze snapping up to where I stood on the landing. "Yuri, double the perimeter. Nobody in or out. Viktor, get the cars ready. We're going to the docks. I want Marco Romano's head on a plate by sundown."
"Dimitri, wait!" I called out, running down the stairs. "You can't just go out there while they're waiting for you. It's a trap!"
He met me at the bottom of the stairs, his hands grabbing my shoulders. He didn't shake me, but his grip was iron. "They killed one of my men, Maya. They burned my business. If I don't move now, I lose the respect of every family in this city. I have to fight."
"Then let me help!"
"No!" he roared, the sound echoing through the foyer. He softened his voice, but the intensity remained. "You stay here. I can't think, I can't kill, and I can't lead if I'm worried about you being caught in a crossfire. Stay behind the glass, Maya. For once in your life, just stay safe."
He kissed me hard—a brutal, desperate kiss that tasted of copper and fire—and then he was gone. The heavy front doors slammed shut, and the roar of the engines faded into the distance.
The house felt like a tomb again.
I sat in the kitchen, staring at a cup of tea I didn't want. Viktor had stayed behind to coordinate the tech side of things. He walked in, looking at me with a grim sort of pity.
"Welcome to the family, Maya," he said, leaning against the counter. "It only gets worse from here. Once blood is spilled, it doesn't stop until someone is buried."
"I hate this," I whispered.
"You love him," Viktor countered. "And in our world, that's the most dangerous thing you can do."
My phone, sitting on the counter, buzzed. It was a private number. My heart lurched into my throat. I swiped to answer, my voice trembling. "Hello?"
"Did you like the fireworks, Maya?"
The voice was unmistakable. Marco Romano. Smooth, oily, and filled with a sickening delight.
"You're a monster, Marco," I hissed.
"I'm a businessman. And Dimitri is currently very busy trying to put out fires I started across the city. Which means you're all alone in that big, beautiful house, aren't you?"
"I'm not alone. The house is surrounded by guards."
Marco chuckled, a sound that made my skin crawl. "Guards can be bought. Glass can be broken. And Dimitri... well, he's a long way away right now. I wonder if he'll make it back in time to see his new queen bleed. Just like he did with the last one."
The line went dead.
I looked up at Viktor, my face pale. "Viktor... he knows. He knows Dimitri left."
From outside, the sound of a muffled explosion rocked the house. The power flickered and died, plunging the kitchen into darkness.
"Maya," Viktor said, his hand reaching for the gun at his small of his back. "Get under the table. Now."