Page 60 of Mafia King's Ruthless Obsession

She enters like a shadow, quiet, but coiled. Her face is paler than usual. Green eyes darker. But her voice? That’s steel.

“Three more of Vladimir’s men appeared across the street.”

“I know.” I gesture to the feeds. “They’re rotating in shifts. They want us to see them.”

She steps beside me, and it takes every ounce of discipline not to turn and pull her into me. To feel her. To protect her with something more than guns and distance.

Her hand hovers over her stomach without thinking. Protective. Instinctual.

It guts me.

“We need to move before they do,” she says.

I nod once, swallowing the thousand words I won’t let myself say. “We’re moving tonight. The anonymous tip is prepped. The second the tunnels are cleared, the call goes in.”

She exhales slowly. “This won’t stop him.”

“I know.” My voice is sandpaper. “But it buys us time.”

“And then what?” Her voice dips low. “What happens when time runs out?”

I don’t have an answer.

I rise and turn toward her, the weight of everything between us pressing in. Her eyes lock on mine—angry, pleading and proud, all at once.

“You’re good at pretending you don’t care,” she says. “But I saw your face. When Matvei had that gun on me.”

I grit my teeth. “And you’re still here.”

“You weren’t calm.” She steps closer. “You were ready to burn the world down.”

“I still am.”

The silence between us thickens. She breaks it first.

“If we survive this,” she says, “you can’t keep pretending.”

Her fingers rest on her stomach. Not dramatic. Not pointed. Just…true.

I want to promise her something, anything. That I’ll change. That I’ll walk away. That I’ll let her go and not chase her.

But promises are for good men.

And I’m not a good man.

So I give her the only vow I can make.

“I’ll kill anyone who tries to take you,” I say.

Her shoulders drop. Not in surrender, but in understanding.

“I know.”

We stand in silence, the tension pounding between us.

Outside, the wolves are circling.

But in here, for just one moment, there’s quiet. A breath of peace. A flicker of something we’ll never name.

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