Page 71 of Blood Oath Christmas
The hallway is dimly lit, shadows dancing along the walls as I make my way toward the master bedroom. My footsteps are silent on the thick carpet—a habit ingrained from years of moving unseen when necessary.
I'm halfway down the hall when I hear it.
Voices.
Coming from my bedroom.
I freeze, every muscle in my body coiling tight. One voice I recognize immediately—Ivy's, though it sounds strained,frightened. The other is male, unfamiliar, speaking in low, urgent tones.
My hand moves instinctively to the gun holstered beneath my jacket as ice-cold fury floods my system. Someone is in my room. With my wife.
The unease I felt earlier crystallizes into deadly certainty. Petrov's lie wasn't just about Mila's jealousy—it was a distraction. And while we were all focused on phantom threats at the gate, the real danger slipped inside.
37
IVY
My scream dies in my throat as the figure steps further into the moonlit room, raising a hand in what I hope is a peaceful gesture.
"Quiet," the woman whispers urgently. "I'm with the FBI."
My heart hammers against my ribs as I fumble for the bedside lamp, my fingers trembling as I click it on. Warm light floods the room, revealing a woman in her thirties with short auburn hair and sharp green eyes. She's dressed in dark clothing, and there's something about her stance that screams law enforcement.
She reaches into her jacket slowly, pulling out a leather wallet and flipping it open to reveal a gold badge and identification card. "Agent Nadia Cole, FBI."
I squint at the ID, my mind still foggy with sleep and adrenaline. The photo matches her face, and the badge looks legitimate, but after everything I've been through, I'm not sure I trust anything anymore.
"What are you doing in my bedroom?" I whisper, pulling the covers up to my chin. The silk nightgown Konstantin bought mesuddenly feels inadequate, too revealing under this stranger's scrutiny.
"I'm worried about your safety, Ivy." She keeps her voice low, glancing toward the door as if expecting someone to burst through at any moment. "I need to know if you're here of your own free will."
The question hits me like a physical blow. Am I here of my own free will? The answer should be simple, but it's anything but. Yes, because I chose to stay after our wedding night. Yes, because I've fallen in love with my husband despite everything. But also no, because this all started with him taking me from FBI protection, because I married him to survive, because the alternative was death.
"I…" I start, then stop. How do I explain the complexity of my situation to this woman? How do I tell her that what began as captivity has transformed into something I never expected?
Agent Cole's expression softens slightly. "It's complicated, isn't it? That's what they do, Ivy. Men like Konstantin Mikhailov. They make you think you have choices when you really don't."
The way she says his name, with such disdain, makes something protective flare in my chest. "You don't know him."
"I know more about him than you think." She moves closer to the bed, her eyes never leaving mine. "Konstantin is a very dangerous and powerful man. He has his hand in just about every illegal thing you can imagine—drugs, weapons, murder. The list goes on."
Each word feels like a slap, even though I know she's probably right. I've seen glimpses of Konstantin's world, the violence that lurks beneath his controlled exterior. But I've also seen his gentleness, his protectiveness, the way he looks at me like I'm something precious.
"I've been after him—and Vadim Antonov—for a long time," Agent Cole continues. "The problem is, he's smart. Careful. And I know he has FBI agents on his payroll, I just don't know who."
The revelation sends a chill through me. If there are corrupt agents, then nowhere is truly safe. Not even Witness Protection was safe, which is why I'm here in the first place.
Agent Cole glances toward the door again, her nervousness becoming more apparent. "I don't have much time. His security is tight, but I managed to slip past them. They'll notice soon enough."
"How did you even find me?" I ask, though part of me doesn't want to know the answer.
"I've been tracking you since you disappeared from FBI custody." She leans forward, her voice becoming more urgent. "Ivy, I need your help."
Something cold settles in my stomach. "What kind of help?"
"I need you to watch Konstantin. Get me some incriminating evidence I can use to put him away for good."
The words hang in the air between us like a death sentence. She's asking me to betray my husband, to gather evidence that could destroy him. The man who's protected me, who's shown me passion I never knew existed, who's made me feel alive in ways I never imagined.
