Page 53 of Bratva Hostage

I push away from the desk and walk out. The corridor feels oddly quiet. Maybe she’s in the living room, or the library, or the lounge. I set off to find her, mentally rehearsing the conversation we’re about to have because I know it’s not going to go well.

Sure enough, I spot her in the living room, staring at a monitor that cycles through surveillance feeds. She’s changed so much since she arrived, no longer the frightened but snippy captive. Now, she stands like an integral part of our operation. It’s been impressive to witness.

I approach and clear my throat to get her attention. She glances over her shoulder and says, “Did you see that car outside?”

I should have realized she’d notice. “Yes. Maksim and I are handling it. I wanted to talk to you about a few changes we’re making.”

She tilts her head. “What changes?”

“I’m restricting access to certain areas. The second floor near the west side has too many windows, and the east gallery is basically a vantage point for any sniper.”

“You mean restrictingme, right? Because your men will still patrol.”

“For your safety.”

She squares her shoulders. “I knew you were paranoid, but this is a bit much, don’t you think?”

“Not after seeing that car. Thorne’s watchers could be out there, scoping angles. If you walk by a window, you become a target.”

“I get the risk, but you’re blowing it out of proportion. You said yourself you want to see what they do before reacting.”

“Still, I can’t risk letting them take a clear shot. Look, we’re winning right now, but Thorne hates losing. We can’t afford complacency.”

“And apparently, we can’t afford to trust me to use common sense. You know I’m not going to dance around windows waving my arms.”

“It’s not about your sense. It’s about controlling the variables.”

She snorts. “So you’re going back to keeping me on a short leash. I get it.”

I groan and pinch the bridge of my nose. I want to explain that this has nothing to do with doubting her and everything todo with my growing terror that I might lose her. But I don’t. I can’t show that vulnerability. Instead, I say, “I’m not discussing this. It’s final.”

Her hazel eyes come alive with that familiar blaze of defiance, and she sputters her lips. “You can’t just make decisions that affect me without asking my opinion.”

I lift a brow. “This is how it works. My house, my rules.”

“We’remarried,” she reminds me. “Which means this ismyhouse too. Besides, I thought we were partners, at least in this fight.”

“We are partners. But that doesn’t change the fact that I won’t let you become a casualty.”

“You talk like I’m fragile. Like I can’t handle myself. I’ve proven otherwise.”

“Cecily, you know better than anyone that Thorne doesn’t play fair. He’ll exploit any window—literally or figuratively—to get to you.”

She tosses her hair back. “And you think locking me in the safest corners helps? Maybe for a day. Maybe a week. But what about after? Are you going to keep restricting my movements forever until I’m confined to my room like I was when I first got here?”

The word forever slams into my chest like a loaded possibility.

Forever. With her.

I never considered the idea, and the notion makes me lightheaded. I shove the thought away, forcing myself to focus.

“If it keeps you alive, yes.”

Her face falls for a second, then frustration returns. “That’s not living, Dimitri.”

“I’d rather have you hate me than see you dead.”

She flinches, as if I’ve hit a nerve. “I don’t hate you. But if you keep pushing me into a corner, I might start.”

---