Chapter Twenty-One
In Nikolai’s Mind
He didn’t sleep.
Not with her this close.
Not with the heat of her body curled into him like it belonged there.
He’d shared beds before — too many to count. Always transactional. Disposable.
This was different.
Stillness more dangerous than gunfire. Because it meant something.
Because she meant something.
She didn’t fear the violence in his bones. She accepted it like a fact — like the wind, or war. She hadn’t asked for softness, but tonight she’d let him give it anyway. And that made her more dangerous than anyone he’d ever met.
Anika —
She dreamed of silence. No screams. No glass. No blood. Just warmth. His warmth. And when shadows tried to creep in — her mother’s face, Cole’s betrayal — they hit a wall shaped like him.
For the first time in years, she didn’t wake up afraid. That terrified her most of all.
At dawn, light slipped past the blackout curtains. She was awake first. Still curled against him. His arm heavy across her waist. Steady breath on her neck. Warmth. Stillness. Safety.
Three things she didn’t trust.
Not anymore.
Not when they were always the things stolen first.
Carefully, she slid from beneath his arm, grounding herself with the chill of concrete under her bare feet. Nyx lifted her head at the foot of the bed; Ares stretched near the door. Silent sentries.
Anika rubbed her face hard. She felt too bare. Not in skin — in soul. She needed her armor back.
By the time she returned from the closet she was in black: tactical leggings, fitted long-sleeve, boots, braid tight. Efficient. Untouchable.
Nikolai was still in her bed. Still shirtless. Still watching her.
His eyes trailed the line of her spine as she moved across the room to check the perimeter monitors. She ignored the weight of his gaze the same way she ignored the echo of his hand still imprinted on her waist.
“You’re up early,” he said, voice sleep-rough.
“I’m always up early,” she muttered, scanning the patrol data.
“You sleep?”
“Yes.” She didn’t add: Because you were here. But he heard it anyway.
Nikolai watched her move with military precision, saw how her walls had climbed back up during the night. He could feel the distance settling between them again like fog over familiar roads. And part of him—one of the quieter, more dangerous parts—resented it.
Because he'd seen the softness underneath.
And now she was pretending it never happened.
“I’ve got patrol rotations to reset,” she said, voice cool.
“I figured.” He stood, unapologetically bare and bruised as he crossed the room toward her. Boxers, bandages, and bare feet. No shame. No armor.
Just that ever-present, quiet power.
She didn’t move away.
But she didn’t get closer either.
“You’re a complication,” she said flatly.
“And yet you asked me to stay.”
“Just for one night.”
He stepped close enough to reach her. “Maybe, but sometimes… one night changes everything.”
She didn’t respond. Because it already had.
A low ping on the control panel interrupted the moment — a single chirp from the southern gate perimeter.
Friendly code. Not a breach. Not a threat.
She tapped the screen and brought up the live feed.
One of Nikolai’s men stood just outside the fence, SUV idling behind him. He popped the hatch, pulled out a black duffel bag, and set it down just inside the secondary gate. A nod toward the camera. No words. No radio chatter.
Nikolai moved to her side, squinting at the screen.
“Clothes,” he said.
She arched a brow. “You always plan for this?”
“Only when I plan to get undressed.”
She ignored the heat in her chest. “Zulu.”
The dog appeared, silent and ready. At her command, Zulu vanished, then returned minutes later with the duffel delicately in her jaws. She dropped it at Nikolai’s feet.
“Brava,” Anika murmured, scratching behind her ears.
Nikolai chuckled, crouching to grab the duffel. “Best courier I’ve ever had.”
“She’s not for rent.”
“Pity.”
He stood and met her gaze. “You want me gone?”
She stepped back. “I want the rest of the day back.”
“You mean before the bomb. Before the kiss. Before I saw the cracks in your armor.”
Her jaw flexed. “I mean I have work to do.”
He nodded, slinging the duffel over one shoulder. “Then I’ll get out of your way.”
But he didn’t move yet.
And neither did she.
The silence between them wasn’t cold.
It was thick.
Weighted.
Like a decision was being made and neither of them wanted to say it out loud.
“You’re still a liability.” She said.
“You’re still afraid of not being one.”
He moved past her toward the hallway, brushing her shoulder as he passed. Heat bloomed where they touched. She hated that she didn’t move away.
He paused at the bathroom door and turned his head.
“You owe me two shirts now.”
She blinked. “What?”
“The one that burned saving your life… and the one you stole.”
Her lips almost curved. “Didn’t steal it.”
“You kept it.”
“I liked how it fit.”
“It didn’t fit.”
“Didn’t stop me.”
He smirked. “I’ll send you another.”
“Don’t. Then I’d have to admit I want it.”
That stopped him cold. For a second.
Then he disappeared into the bathroom, and the door clicked shut.
Anika stared at the space he’d left behind. The scent of him still lingered — smoke, leather, something darker. Something she’d let too close.
She didn’t know if she was glad he was about to be gone…
Or furious that part of her wanted him to stay.
Ten minutes later, Nikolai stood at the open front door, bag slung over one shoulder. His eyes swept the estate — tall grass rippling, dogs pacing the fence line like ghosts with teeth.
“You good here?” he asked.
“I always am.”
His hand lingered on the door handle. Then he left without another word.
He stepped through the doorway, the sound of his boots fading down the steps, the engine’s low growl swallowed by the distance.
Anika stayed rooted in place, hand still resting against the security console. When the gates clicked shut on the feed, she finally exhaled — long, sharp, like she’d been holding her breath since the night before.
Relief swept through her chest, cold and jagged. But beneath it, deeper and harder to ignore, was the ache he always left behind.
It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t even anger.
It was the dangerous pull of wanting someone she swore she didn’t need.
And that terrified her more than the war waiting outside her fences.