It feels like I’m suffocating in this room, the walls closing in on me. My mind races back to the moment I first met him, reying every interaction, every nce, trying to read his reactions, his expressions. But I saw nothing. He was too good at hiding the truth. I thought I was in control, but he yed me.


    He knew. He knew I was a fed this whole time and still let me live. Konstantin Marinov, the man who kills people for looking at him the wrong way, let me live.


    Closing my eyes, I let the ache swallow me. He cares about me, and I care for him more deeply than I ever imagined. But what happens when all of this is over?


    Still, I try to focus on what truly matters right now: finding a way to escape. With his men stationed at both the front and the back, there’s no way out unless I can outsmart them.


    But I have to get the hell out of here. And when the time is right, I need to look Gerardo in the eyes and hear him admit everything before I haul his ass to prison. Killing him would be too easy. He deserves to rot for the rest of his life.


    My eyes flick to a small shard of wood on the ground, some broken bit of a chair or something. Sharp enough to cut.


    I reach for it, biting my lip as I position it just right and press it into my ankle. I don’t want to hurt myself, not after everything, but this is different. I have no choice.


    With a wince, I draw enough blood before I toss the shard to the far side of the room and let out a sharp cry.


    The door creaks, and heavy footfalls shuffle closer. Here theye, just as expected.


    Two of Konstantin’s men appear, and when they see me in my state of undress, they quickly avert their eyes.


    How cute. Criminals with a sense of honor.


    “What happened?” one asks.


    “Ow! This is cutting into me. I’m bleeding!” I force my voice to crack, sounding panicked. “Oh my God, it hurts so bad!”


    They stop, eyes widening as they take in the blood.


    “Please, just get something to wrap this with,” I beg, my voice trembling with the pain I’m faking. “Just bandage it up, then chain me back. Konstantin wouldn’t want me bleeding out on your watch. I’m still his wife!”


    One of them hesitates before stepping forward. “Okay, we help.”


    My breath hitches. Now’s my chance.


    The second man mutters something in Russian to the first, too fast for me to catch, but I feel the tension radiating from him. The one who agreed to help steps forward, while the other disappears to grab supplies.


    The guard kneels to unlock my ankle, and I hold my breath, every muscle wrung tight. He pulls out a set of keys, selects one, and releases the cuff around my ankle. I wince, pretending the pain is unbearable, but my focus is on the gun in his holster.


    This is it. It’s now or never.


    In a split second, I snatch the weapon from him before he can react, aiming it directly at his face. His eyes pop, his arms shooting up in surrender as I jump to my feet.


    “Your car keys. Now!”


    Slowly, he reaches into his pocket, pulling out the keys and tossing them to the floor with a resigned sigh.


    “Rx. I not hurt you,” he says, his eyes crinkling into a small grin. “Boss kill me if I do.”


    “Great. So you’ll let me go without being a problem. What a good boy.”


    He chuckles dryly, hands still raised. I start moving toward the exit, but then a door opens and my pulse gives a little kick.


    The second man returns with the bandages, and when he sees the scene, he mutters something else in Russian. Probably something like, I told you so, you idiot.


    His attention bounces between me and the guy with his hands up, the tension in the air suffocating.


    The first one shakes his head at the second. “Otpusti yeyo. Boss skazal ne trogat yeyo, yesli ona popitaetsya sbezhat.”


    I catch a few words—something about letting me go, the boss having told them to maybe? My understanding isn’t great, but when the second man raises his hands and begins backing away slowly, I know I got it right.


    I nce between them with a cold edge. “Now, one of you give me your shirt.”


    They peer over at each other, but I don’t have time for this nonsense. Konstantin could be back at any minute.


    I raise the gun a fraction higher, the threat hanging in the air. “Your damn shirt. Now.”


    The first guy immediately pulls off his ck T-shirt, handing it to me.


    Taking the bandages from the other man, I say, “I need one more thing.”


    “Oy boji moy. What now?” the second man asks. “You need my pants too?”


    They bothugh, but I don’t. Anger pulses through me instead.


    “If you say one more word, I’ll put a bullet between your eyes. Now go find some fucking pliers. I need this removed.”


    Holding out my hand, I finger the bracelet Konstantin gave me, the one he uses to track my every move.


    Heughs, thinking I’m joking, but when he reaches to remove it with his fingers, I’m ready. The shock hits us both at once when he unsps it, the current jolting through my body, stealing my breath. He curses, yanking his hand back.


    “I warned you.”


    Gun in hand, I rush backward toward the waiting SUV, slipping into the driver’s seat and gunning the engine. When the guys at the first checkpoint see who I am, they don’t hesitate. They let me through without a word.


    He didn’t tell them. He wanted to keep this hush-hush, just like I thought.


    The n is working. Now all I need to do is ditch this car, hotwire a new one, and get to Nate before Gerardo does.


    He’s not going to take my brother from me. Not if I can help it.<hr>


    KONSTANTIN


    I hate that I left her there chained up like that, but I had no choice. I couldn’t afford to have anyone find out, and I couldn’t afford her running while I leave for my next meeting. When I return, maybe she’ll be morepliant.


    I stare at theptop screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard. The glow of the monitor bathes the dark study in cold, sterile light, but there’s nothing sterile about the thoughts pounding through my skull.


    Tessa’s image flickers on the screen. No, Emilia. That’s her name. The name she hid from me, or so she thought.


    Doesn’t she realize I’m always one step ahead?


    When she told me about her brother, I almost understood why she did what she did. I’ve done worse for my brothers. Family is family.


    Still, how can we reconcile this? How do I stay married to a fed? It’s never been done in my world. It’s unheard-of.


    But there’s no way I would ever let her go. It doesn’t matter what she did or how. She’s my wife, and I would never hurt her.


    Now I have to figure out how to keep her alive.


    My brothers will be really unhappy when they find out not only about who she is, but that I knew. That I let her stay. That I married her. They’ll say I put all of us at risk, and they’ll be right. But I don’t care. What they think makes no difference. I do what I want, when I want.


    She means more to me than anything. More than this empire, than blood, than reason. She’s not just my wife. She’s mine. Mine. My possession. A part of me embedded so deep, I couldn’t get rid of her if I tried.


    And I’ll fight to the death for her. Burn every inch of this world if I have to.


    When I drag the next image onto the screen, instant rage settles in my marrow.


    Gerardo Peters. Her superior. The one she trusted. The one who tried to kill her.


    I lean back in the chair, staring into his smug face. My fingers twitch. He doesn’t know it yet, but he’s already dead. And I’m going to make it brutal. I want him to beg before I end him. For daring to touch her. For thinking he could take her away from me.


    My mouth twists into something that isn’t quite a smile, unable to wait until he and I be good friends. Closing theptop, I head toward the stairs, climbing two at a time.


    When I push open the bedroom door, her scent hits me instantly. Sweet. Soft. Familiar. It’s soaked into the pillows, the sheets, the air itself.


    Crossing the room, I press my face into the pillow she slept on, dragging in a deep breath. Her scent may be here, but she’s not.


    And even though she’s just down the road, her absence is like a de against my throat.


    I can’t lose her.


    Tessa, Emilia…whatever name she prefers, she’s mine until myst breath.


    I turn toward the bathroom, tugging a hand through my hair, when something catches my eye. A sh of pink in the trash can. Just a sliver of cardboard peeking out.


    I reach in and pull it free, and almost stumble.


    “What the hell?”


    A pregnancy test?


    Could she be…


    The breath leaves my lungs in one sharp, panicked exhale. I freeze, staring at the box like it’s going to morph into something else.


    But it doesn’t. It’s real.


    “Blyat!”


    If she’s carrying my child and I chained her and left her there, I will never forgive myself. I flip the can over, dumping its contents onto the bathroom floor. My hands search blindly through the mess until I find the test.


    The one answer to a question I didn’t even know I was asking.


    I lift it and stare at the word written as clear as day.


    Pregnant.


    Everything stops. My world. My thoughts. My goddamn heartbeat.


    Pregnant.


    She’s pregnant.


    With my baby. Our baby.


    I’m going to be a father.


    A smile stretches before panic grips me tight.


    Staggering back, I almost copse against the counter, gripping the edge to steady myself. My lungs can’t fill. My chest can’t contain what’s happening inside. It’s too much. Too fast. Too everything.


    The thought of her carrying our child… I can’t even fathom it, but it’s real. My knees threaten to give way, too overwhelmed by what this could mean for us.


    She wanted to talk to me before I left for my meeting, I remember that, but I never expected this. I thought maybe she was ready to confess who she really was. But a baby?


    Taking the test and the box with me, I rush out of the room and down the stairs before the front door ms behind me. I’m halfway to my car when my phone rings, one of the men stationed to watch her on the other end.


    I answer with a snap. “What?”


    “Boss,” he pants. “She ran. Took my keys and my shirt.”


    My jaw clenches. “You didn’ty a finger on her, right?”


    Because you’re already dead if you did.


    “Net. I swear.”


    “Good.”


    I hang up, already cursing under my breath. I knew she’d do this. Of course she would. She’s too smart to wait around. Too angry. Too driven.


    It’s okay. I nned for this. I expected it.


    I pull up the tracking app for the bracelet.


    But a harsh chuckle escapes me as soon as I realize it’s still at the farmhouse. She removed it.


    My blood turns to ice.


    “Chorti materi!” I snarl, mming my fist against the steering wheel. Motherfucker!


    Throwing the SUV into gear, I fly down the road, tires screaming as I tear toward the farmhouse. My foot doesn’t leave the gas pedal until I’m skidding to a halt in the gravel, leaping out before the engine even dies. The two men I left posted with her stiffen when they see me.


    “Where is her bracelet?” I demand.


    One of them points to a small side table just inside the doorway. “She wanted to take it off. Sorry, boss.”


    “Yeah?” I growl, pulling the remote from my pocket and powering it down. “You will be sorry.” I tuck the bracelet into my pocket and face them again. “Don’t tell anyone else about this, or you die. Understand?”


    They both nod.


    Rushing back to my car, I punch in the GPS for the SUV she stole as I race down the road.


    She has a head start, but I can still catch her. I have to.


    Because she’s not just running toward danger. She’s carrying our future with her.