Chapter 270
ALINA
I blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“We’re leaving.”
I stared at him.
“Leaving?”
He nodded once.
“Like... leaving leaving?”
His jaw tightened slightly.
“We're moving to another location.”
I looked around the room.
Then back at him.
“Is the fresh mountain air finally too much for your delicate billionaire lungs?”
Nothing.
No amused smile.
No sarcastic comment.
No you're ridiculous, wife.
Just that serious, unreadable expression.
And that immediately wiped the joke off my face.
“Oh.”
My voice softened.
“What happened?”
He reached for my hand, his thumb brushing slowly over my knuckles.
“Nothing has happened.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“That is exactly what people say right before something happens.”
“Wife.”
“Alexander.”
A pause.
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
I studied him carefully.
The fact that he wasn't teasing me scared me more than if he had.
Alexander was arrogance wrapped in expensive suits and a dangerous amount of confidence.
If he was worried...
I had a reason to be worried too.
“Are we in danger?”
His silence lasted one second too long.
One second.
But it was enough.
My stomach tightened.
“Alexander.”
His jaw tightened.
“Wife—”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“I need to know.”
A pause.
“Are we packing because you’re being paranoid, or because of something else?”
“Calm down.”
I frowned.
“That sounds like something a person says right before telling me something terrifying. Like ‘it’s just a small fire’ or ‘the doctor said it’s probably nothing’ or ‘don’t worry, the man with the gun is friendly.’”
Alexander gave me that look — the one that was half-exasperated, half-amused.
“Wife.”
“Don’t ‘Wife’ me in that tone. That tone is reserved for when you’re about to drop bad news wrapped in a pretty bow. So spill it. Are we running because one of your enemies knows where we are, or because you just really hate this cabin’s interior design?”
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.
“It’s the first one.”
I threw my hands up.
“Of course it is. Because my life is a soap opera written by a sadist with a twisted sense of humor.”
He looked away for a moment, like he was choosing his words carefully.
That scared me even more than the bad news itself.
“This place…”
A pause.
“…may have been compromised.”
The room suddenly felt colder.
I stared at him.
“Compromised,” I repeated flatly.
“As in, ‘the enemy might know exactly where we are sleeping’ compromised? Or ‘there’s a chance a bomb is under the bed’ compromised? Be specific, Alexander. My imagination is already writing the sequel and it’s not looking good for our survival rate.”
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.
“It’s not just any enemy.”
His voice lowered.
“It’s Santos.”
A cold chill crawled down my spine.
I sat up straighter, clutching the sheet to my chest like a piece of fabric could somehow protect me from a man who had already managed to turn my life upside down.
“Are you fucking serious?”
My voice came out sharper than I intended.
“How? You said only a handful of people knew about this location.”
"They did."
For the first time since I’d woken up, Alexander didn’t look like the untouchable, arrogant man who always had an answer.
He looked tired.
Worried.
And that scared me more than anything.
“Tell me.”
His eyes met mine.
For a moment, I thought he was going to give me the usual Alexander answer.
I've got it handled.
Don't worry.
You're safe.
The three most annoying sentences ever invented by overprotective men who thought women couldn't handle the truth."
His jaw tightened.
I knew that look.
The I’m about to make a decision for everyone because I’m Alexander Dimitri and apparently the world’s most annoying control freak look.
“No.”
His eyebrows lifted slightly.
“No?”
“No, you don’t get to do that.”
“Do what?”
“Go silent and decide I’m too fragile to know what’s happening.”
His expression softened.
“Wife—”
“No.”
I pointed at him.
“I am your wife, not a decorative plant you move around when things get dangerous.”
A tiny flicker of amusement crossed his face.
Good.
At least I was still annoying him.
That was progress.
"Just fucking tell me."
His expression turned serious again.
“Santos may have learned this location.”
I looked at him, searching his face.
“May have? And you’re moving us because you think Santos could come here?”
“No.”
His hand tightened around mine, warm and steady.
“I’m moving us because I refuse to wait and find out.”
The room went still.
“One of my men betrayed us.”
My stomach dropped.
“He helped Santos escape when we had him. We don’t know what else he leaked.”
His voice hardened.
“He could have given him information. Routes. Locations. Anything.”
A pause.
“And I’m not risking you being here when we find out.”
For a second, I couldn't move.
It felt like someone had poured ice water through my veins.
Because suddenly the warmth of the morning disappeared.
The teasing.
The laughter.
The stupid pink suit jokes.
Gone.
This was reality.
Santos was still out there.
Still somewhere.
Still trying to crawl back into my life like the world's most unwanted subscription service.
And apparently he refused to cancel.
My hands tightened around the sheet.
“Why can’t he just leave me the fuck alone?”
The words came out quieter than I expected.
Angrier too.
Because that was the part I hated most.
Not just the fear.
Not just the danger.
The fact that one man could still make me feel trapped.
Alexander didn't say anything.
He just pulled me against him.
And for once...
I let him.
His arms wrapped around me, steady and protective.
His scent surrounded me.
Cologne.
Warmth.
That unmistakable Alexander.
The same man who drove me absolutely insane.
The same man who made me want to throw a pillow at his head on a daily basis.
The same man who could be arrogant, infuriating, and completely impossible...
Yet somehow still made me feel safest when everything else felt like it was falling apart.
Annoying.
Extremely inconvenient.
Because apparently my heart had terrible judgment.
Excuse me.
My brain suddenly decided this was the perfect time to interrupt.
What happened to the two-week punishment?
I blinked.
Seriously?
You’re still on that?
Yes.
We have a potential psychopath coming after us.
And?
And you’re keeping track of a revenge schedule?
It was a very good schedule.
I sighed internally.
You are unbelievable.
I’m just saying, he still owes you suffering.
He literally just told me someone betrayed him and might be coming after us.
A pause.
...Fine.
Thank you.
But the tiny chair plan is still valid.
I nearly laughed.
You cannot be serious.
Dead serious.
My brain was apparently more committed to humiliating my husband than protecting my sanity.
Honestly?
I respected the dedication.
But still.
We are in an actual crisis.
Yes.
So maybe stop planning his emotional downfall for five minutes?
No promises.
I mentally rolled my eyes.
My life would be so much easier if I could just hate him properly.
If my heart would stop remembering the good moments.
If my body would stop feeling safe in his arms.
If my brain would stop arguing with itself like it was hosting a dysfunctional courtroom.
Unfortunately...
I loved him.
And apparently that was the most annoying problem of all.
After a few moments, he pulled back.
His fingers brushed my hair away from my face, his touch gentle as his hand settled against my cheek.
I hated how quickly my body responded.
Seriously.
Could my body please stop betraying me for five minutes?
We had a crisis.
A dangerous man was possibly coming after us.
And my brain was screaming danger while my heart was like:
Yes, but look at his face.
Traitor.
“I won’t let him get to you,” Alexander said.
“I swear it.”
“But he knows this location,” I whispered.
“He could already be on his way here.”
His jaw tightened.
“Which is why we’re leaving.”
His thumb brushed gently across my cheek.
“Today. Now.”
A pause.
“I’ve already arranged another location. Somewhere safer.”
I stared at him.
Then I let out a shaky laugh.
“A safer place.”
I nodded slowly.
“Right.”
A beat.
“Because this safe place worked out beautifully.”
His eyes narrowed slightly.
“Wife.”
“No, I’m just thinking ahead.”
I looked around dramatically.
“So what’s next?”
I lifted a finger.
“Secret bunker?”
Another finger.
“Underground fortress?”
I gasped.
“Wait. Do I get a code name?”
His expression remained completely serious.
I nodded thoughtfully.
“Something intimidating.”
A pause.
“Agent Pink?”
Nothing.
Not even a reaction.
I smiled.
“Asset Flamingo?”
“Wife.”
“Fine.”
I held up my hands.
“I’ll stop.”
A beat.
“Probably.”
For the first time, the corner of his mouth almost moved.
Almost.
But then his hands came up, gently holding my face.
And the warmth disappeared from his expression.
“This isn’t a joke.”
His voice was quiet.
Serious.
“Santos is dangerous.”
The humor faded.
“He’s obsessed with you.”
His thumb moved slowly along my cheek.
“And if he knows where we are…”
He stopped.
He didn't finish.
He didn’t need to.
The fear settled back over me.
Because I understood exactly what he was saying.
He could come for me.
Again.
I swallowed.
“I hate this.”
My voice came out softer than I wanted.
“I hate that he still has power over me.”
A pause.
“Over us.”
Alexander pulled me against him.
“He won’t.”
His lips pressed against my hair.
“Not anymore.”
His arms tightened around me.
“I’ll protect you with my life.”
The seriousness in his voice made my chest tighten.
For all his arrogance.
For all his impossible decisions and his frustrating habit of thinking he could carry the weight of the world alone...
Moments like this reminded me of the man underneath it all.
The man who looked at me like I was the only thing that mattered.
I squeezed his hand.
Trying desperately not to let the fear win.
“Well…”
I forced a small smile.
“At least this time I get to pack my own bags instead of being carried out like some dramatic damsel in distress.”
I nodded approvingly.
“Progress.”
Alexander rolled his eyes.
Actually rolled his eyes.
I stared at him.
“Did you just roll your eyes at me?”
“Yes.”
I gasped.
“My terrifying mafia husband is finally developing normal human reactions.”
“Don’t push it.”
I smiled despite myself.
“Okay…”
I looked toward the half-packed bags.
Then back at him.
“But first, I need to make a small detour.”
His expression immediately changed.
“A detour?”
I nodded.
“Yes.”
“Where?”
I hesitated for only a second.
“I need to see my kids."
A pause.
“At the orphanage.”
The moment the words left my mouth, something changed.
The warmth in his expression disappeared.
His jaw tightened.
His eyes went cold.