Chapter 149 149

Chapter 149 149
“My father was an idiot who created the mess I’m cleaning up.” I head for the door, then pause. “But he was right about one thing: this is the life I was born into. I was a fool for ever thinking there was a way out.”

As I stride away, I feel sick and hollow and light-headed all at once.

I need to find Nova. Need to hold her. Need to remind myself why I’m choosing this path.

Need to make her understand that sometimes, the monster is exactly what she needs.

And as I emerge, there she is.

But one look at her face tells me it’s not how I wanted this moment to be.

She stands frozen in the hallway, one hand pressed to her mouth, the other curled protectively over her belly. Her tears glisten in the lamplight, and for a moment, all I can think is how fucking beautiful she is, even when she’s breaking.

I understand in an instant. What she overheard. What she must have understood. The deal she thinks I turned down.

“You could have gotten out.” Her voice wobbles, wavers, shatters like glass. “You… you could have saved us.”

I reach for her, but she jerks away, bumping against the stone wall. The tapestry behind her shifts. Dust motes go spiraling in the air between us.

“I am saving us.” My hands clench at my sides. “By my fucking self. The feds can’t protect shit. The moment I flip, every two-bit thug with delusions of grandeur comes gunning for what’s mine.”

“What’s yours?” She laughs, bitter and sharp. “What do you mean—your empire? Your reputation?”

“I mean my family.” I step closer, crowding her against the wall. “You. Our child. Everyone we love. They’d all be targets.”

Her chin lifts. “We already are targets, Sam.”

“And I can protect you.” I press my forehead to hers, breathing in the vanilla-honey scent of her skin. “I know every player. Every move. Every weakness. But we can only win if I stay in the game.”

“That was a ticket out of this game, Samuil.” She shudders. “That was our chance to… to… Fuck. Fuck! I told you, Sam: I don’t want our baby growing up in this world.”

“Then we’ll make a better one.” I cup her face as tenderly as I know how to do. “But we do it my way. The smart way. Not by throwing ourselves on the FBI’s mercy and hoping they can keep their promises.”

Nova’s eyes search mine, and I see the moment she realizes I won’t bend on this. Won’t risk everything on Boyko’s honeyed words and empty guarantees.

“You really mean it,” she whispers. “You really think you’re the only one who can win this.”

I sigh. I nod. “I know I am.”

She tears away from me and swallows hard. “I need some air,” she mumbles. “One more breath of outside before you lock us all back in the cages you love so much.”

41

SAMUIL

The screens covering my war room’s walls show my father’s empire dripping in red.

Casualties. Compromised assets. Security breaches.

Each alert represents another crack in the foundation that Leonid Litvinov spent fifty years building. I’ve been staring at these screens for hours, watching dominoes fall, calculating moves and countermoves until my vision blurs.

I glance out of one window. A black Range Rover is exiting the grounds. I know that in the back of it sits Angelo Boyko, bandaged like a fucking mummy and accompanied only by what little he brought in his pockets, the Glock I found in his car, and my refusal of his deal.

Good fucking riddance.

I check the other window, the one with a view into the library. The room is dark. The fireplace is cold. The couch is empty. No Nova sitting alongside Hope, laughing and oohing and ahhing over bodice ripper romance novels.

The women are in their respective rooms, and I can practically feel the icy chill of Nova’s mood rippling throughout the castle air.

She might as well be standing behind me, whispering her last words in my ear again and again.

I need some air. One more breath of outside before you lock us all back in the cages you love so much.

I had a nightmare in the few short hours I slept last night. Nova, on the other side of a veil I couldn’t reach through, gasping and choking as the oxygen drained from her lungs.

I couldn’t save her, no matter how hard I tried.

I wrench my attention back to the screens. It’s a bloodbath in every corner of the Litvinov territory. No matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to get an upper hand anywhere. Katerina and Ilya, backed by the might and reach of the Andropovs and with a sizable head start, are too much to overcome.

Myles raps his knuckles on the cracked door. When I nod, he slips in and shuts it behind him. There’s a sheaf of papers in his hand.

“Check it out.” Myles tosses a photo onto my desk. “Surveillance caught this at Heathrow two hours ago.”

My throat tightens. The grainy image shows my father’s unmistakable profile, his broad shoulders stooped with age. And next to him—a baseball cap pulled low, but I’d know that arrogant strut anywhere.

Ilya.

“Facial recognition to confirm?” I keep my voice level despite the rage bubbling beneath my skin.

“Ninety-two percent match on both.” Myles spreads out three more photos. Different angles. Different timestamps. Same conclusion. “They’re traveling under Venezuelan passports. Our contact at MI6 confirms Ilya booked a suite at the Connaught under the same alias.”

I lean back, steepling my fingers. “Father never stays anywhere but Claridge’s.”

“Already have a team watching both hotels, just in case.”

The pieces click into place. Ilya choosing London—taunting me by being close enough to strike and yet utterly untouchable. Taking Father there when he should be resting at his dacha. The synchronized attacks across my holdings.

“He’s making his move.” I stand, energy thrumming through my veins. “Get Vladimir and his crew on the next flight to England. I want our best hunters on this.”

“And you?”

“Have a chopper ready in thirty.” I check my watch. “But I need ten minutes with Nova first.”

Myles nods and heads for the door, then pauses. “Sam. What if this is another trap?”

“Then we spring it.” I bare my teeth in what might pass for a smile. “And this time, we make sure my dear brother doesn’t walk away.”

He doesn’t look convinced. “You’re sure?”

“He threatened my family, Myles. He threatened us.” I clear my throat. “There are no more questions left worth asking.”

My best friend shifts his weight from foot to foot, exhaling wearily. His face is drawn long and haggard, bags under his eyes looking bigger and grayer than I’ve ever seen them before. “This goes without saying, but Nova’s already worried sick about⁠—”

“Nova is—” Her name catches in my throat. In my mind’s eye, I see her standing in the doorway earlier, belly peeking out from beneath the hem of her shirt, eyes wide with fear when I ordered her out.

The cages you love so much.