Page 143 of The Last Hope

“Nikolai’s going to hate me,” I murmured, exhaustion crashing down on me like a tidal wave.

“The only way Nikolai could hate you is if he lost his memory and someone told him you were an Italian spy plotting against his family. And even then, I think he’d still doubt it,” Roman chuckled.

I mumbled something unintelligible as sleep took over, comforted by the sound of Roman’s steady breathing.

I frowned as dull noises began to pull me from my slumber.

“I’d suggest you stay asleep, for both your sake and mine. I can feel his anger from here,” Roman whispered, still holding me close, my head resting on his shoulder.

I cracked one eye open and realized we were still in the cell. Despite Roman’s warmth and his jacket draped around me, a chill ran down my spine, and my back ached from the hard bench beneath me.

I closed my eyes again as the sound of rapid footsteps echoed down the corridor. My palms grew clammy, and I clasped my hands over my bare stomach. The footsteps stopped just outside the cell, followed by an oppressive silence. You could’ve heard a pin drop.

“Don’t look at me like that,moy brat,” Roman murmured, pretending not to disturb me. “I won most of tonight’s bets.”

A sudden loud crash rang out, followed by a pained groan. “I didn’t know you had such a death wish, Jeff,” came my husband’s icy voice, slicing through the silence like a blade. My breath hitched.

“This is where regret starts, Jeffy,” Roman said, his grip on my shoulders tightening. “And unfortunately, there’s no cure for stupidity.”

“Open the door,” Nikolai growled. The lock clicked open before the last word had even left his mouth. And someone got inside the cell, I knew it was him—I felt him. He stopped in front ofme, his presence enveloping me, his gaze inspecting every inch of me.

“It’s not her fault. She didn’t do anything wrong,” Roman stated, withdrawing his arm just as others slid around me—one behind my back, the other beneath my knees. A second later, I was cradled against my husband’s chest, surrounded by his familiar scent. Without a word, he turned and began walking toward the exit.

“Lock the door,” he ordered through clenched teeth, “brother?” Roman called as the heavy door slammed shut behind us.

“Get some rest,moy brat. You’re going to need it when I come back for you,” Nikolai replied coldly, ignoring Roman’s protest.

I pressed my lips together, guilt rising in my throat. It wasn’t fair—Roman and I had both been involved. I opened my eyes, ready to plead, to ask Nikolai to reconsider.

“I suggest you refrain from saying a single word,” he muttered through his teeth, and I froze. His jaw was rigid, his eyes locked ahead. Yet, even in his fury, his hold on me remained gentle, reassuring.

Slowly, warmth returned to my body as I nestled closer to his chest.

We exited the station, where Sasha leaned against the car, eyes fixed on his phone. He looked up, scanned me from head to toe, then opened the back door without a word, visibly relieved that I was unharmed.

Nikolai approaches the car ready to set me down, without letting me speak, without explaining, or even argue. As if I were a misbehaving child awaiting scolding once we got home.

The injustice of it all ignited something inside me, fueled by adrenaline. I squirmed in his arms until I broke free. He hadn’t expected it and I caught him off guard.

Sasha grabbed me, swift and steady, but not fast enough—my lower body hit the pavement hard, sending pain through my tailbone.

“Blayt’, Selina !” Nikolai snapped, bending to help me, but I shoved him away. Once I steadied myself, I also pushed Sasha aside.

“I’m your wife, Nikolai !” I shouted, pointing a trembling finger at him. “Not your maid, not your sister, and most definitely not your child !” His eyes widened in disbelief—under any other circumstances, it might have been comical.

“I am Selina Ivanov, and I refuse to be treated like some clueless airhead ! Do you hear me ?!” I shouted, standing my ground as his gaze darkened.

I sensed Sasha shifting uncomfortably, subtly gesturing to onlookers who had likely stopped to witness the spectacle.

“And if Roman stays, then so do I ! We were arrested together. If he’s punished, I should be too !” I added, folding my arms defiantly across my chest, ignoring the instincts that screamed at me to get into the car and keep quiet.

Nikolai stared at me, utterly silent, as though I’d grown a second head. Then he began walking toward me, and I instinctively stepped back, his gaze was intense—the kind he usually reserved for the privacy of our bedroom.

I backed up until I hit the car door behind me. Trapped. He raised his hand, trailing it along the line of my jaw before gently cupping it and tilting my face toward him.

I held my breath. His eyes burned into mine, dropping briefly to my lips, then to my surely reddened, frozen nose.

“You don’t need to ask, wife,” he murmured against my lips, voice low and deliberate. “The first thing I’ll do when we gethome is punish you so thoroughly, you won’t be sitting for a week.”

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