Page 79 of Blood Oath Christmas
I want to go to her, to settle into the chair across from her and make her understand that everything I do is to keep her safe. But something stops me. Maybe the rigid set of her shoulders, or the way she seems to have built an invisible wall around herself. Instead, I watch from the shadows as she types, her fingers moving with mechanical precision across the keys.
She looks fragile in the winter light. Untouchable. Like something precious that exists in a world I can observe but never truly enter.
My phone buzzes against my chest, pulling me from my silent observation. Viktor's name flashes on the screen, and I know without answering that the call will bring more problems, more complications in a life that's already balanced on a knife's edge.
I retreat down the hallway to take the call, leaving Ivy to her studies and careful solitude.
The conversation with Viktor is brief but loaded with implications. The other families are restless. Angry. What we did to the Kozlovs has sent ripples through the entire organization, and not everyone is pleased with my methods.
"Bocharov is calling for a meeting," Viktor says, his voice tight with tension. "Says we need to discuss your 'rash actions' before they start a war none of us can win."
I close my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Set it up.”
"Konstantin—”
"Set it up, Viktor. And make sure our people are ready for anything."
The meeting takesplace in the back room of Baratino. I don’t usually conduct business at my restaurant, but this is a sensitive situation and I need to make sure I’m somewhere familiar. Somewhere protected. And somewhere that Ivy isn’t. I don’t want her anywhere near this in case things go south.
The room is thick with tension as Ivan Bocharov sits directly across from me, his small eyes hard with accusation. Alec Sidorov flanks my right, a show of support that I'm grateful for. The others watch with the careful neutrality of men waiting to see which way the wind blows.
"You've put us all at risk," Bocharov says without preamble. "Wiping out an entire family’s men? Their allies won't stand for it."
"Their allies should have kept them in line," I reply, my voice steady and certain. "The Kozlovs crossed a line when they attacked my home. When they shotme."
The argument continues for hours, voices rising and falling like waves against stone. Some support my actions, Alec chief among them, his loyalty unwavering. Others call for restraint, for negotiation, for anything that might prevent the bloodshed that seems inevitable now.
In the end, we reach a compromise of sorts. A meeting with the opposing families. A chance for diplomacy before the bullets start flying.
By the time I return home, the sun has set and the house is quiet. Dinner has come and gone without me, and I find myself climbing the stairs with heavy steps, exhaustion weighing on my shoulders like a physical burden.
The bedroom is empty.
I check the bathroom, the walk-in closet, even the small sitting area by the windows. Nothing. No sign of her except the faint scent of her perfume lingering in the air.
My pulse quickens as I move through the house, checking every room, every corner where she might have retreated. The library. The kitchen. The patio garden where I left her hours ago.
Empty. All of it.
"Anya!" My voice echoes through the halls, sharper than I intended.
The older woman appears quickly, wringing her hands. "Yes, sir?"
"Where is Ivy?"
"I… I don't know, sir. I brought her lunch to the garden, but when I went to collect the dishes, she was gone. I assumed she'd gone to your room to rest."
The panic that rises in my chest is immediate and overwhelming. Not the calculated concern of a man protecting an asset, but the raw, desperate fear of a man who's realized too late what he stands to lose.
She's gone. Again.
43
IVY
The cold January air bites at my cheeks as I slip through the shadows at the edge of Konstantin's estate. My heart pounds so hard I'm certain the security guards will hear it echoing through the night. Each step away from the house feels like a betrayal, and the weight of what I'm about to do sits heavy in my chest.
I press my hand protectively over my still-flat stomach, a gesture that's become instinctive since I discovered I'm carrying Konstantin's child. The baby is barely more than a cluster of cells, but already, I feel fiercely protective. This innocent life growing inside me deserves better than the violent world I've been thrust into.
