Page 44 of Unrequited

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“Let’s go,” I say.

I stand. I take her hand, and I don’t let go.

There’s a car waiting outside. I’ve planned for this. Tonight is the night I tell her everything. Every ugly truth, every dirty secret. I tell her who I am, what I’ve done, and exactly why.

Tonight, I’ll tell her I love her.

That I’m choosing her over everything. Over the Irish. Over the Russians. Over bloodlines and revenge and orders.

Tonight, I end the war.

Tonight, I stop the hunt on the Kopolovs.

Tonight, I take her back.

And before it’s over, I’ll make her feel every ounce of the fury, the need, the protectiveness that drives me. I’ll make her understand.

Because tonight, Zoya Kopolova learns exactly who she belongs to.

And I look forward to teaching her how to be a good girl.Mygood girl.

But when we reach the car, my hand just brushing the door handle, something shifts. It’s subtle. A glint in the corner of my eye. A shadow where there shouldn’t be one.

I freeze.

Feckin’ hell.

“Get in,” I say to her, my voice low, controlled. Fuck it, I can’t have her roped into this.

She frowns. “What?—?”

“Now.”

I have to keep her safe no matter what.

She obeys, slipping inside. I shut the door behind her just as the street lights flare too bright. Just as the silence breaks.

Not with ashout. Not yet.

Just a presence. Too many of them. Wrong posture, not the sound of casual footsteps.

I straighten, my hands loose and calm, like I’ve got nothing to hide.

I shoot off a text to my driver.

Bring her home.

The car pulls away with her inside.

That’s all I needed.

By the time I turn around, they’re already here. I blow out a breath.

“Seamus McCarthy,” a voice calls out behind me, loud and deliberate, no room for misinterpretation. Handcuffs slide over my wrists. “You are detained.”

Chapter 8

ZOYA

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