Chapter Twenty-Seven
A tear splattered on the back of Darya’s hand, the helpless tremor that shook her arms sending it careening to the mound of clothes in her open suitcase. Since the day she’d watched her mother walk away, she’d known the day would come when she’d have to make her own sacrifice. Had known she’d only upped her debt against the universe when Yefim and JJ had been delivered to aid her once more.
Today was the day to pay that price.
She dashed the back of her hand across each cheek and forced her legs to keep from crumbling. At most she had ten minutes to gather her wits and be ready for Knox. Probably less given the clipped delivery when he’d called demanding to know why she’d left before him.
Fear far more potent than the prospect of the days that lay ahead lanced straight through her, the mere thought of what her actions would do to further destroy his trust nearly crippling in their power. He’d never forgive her. Never. And how could she blame him? She’d not only broken her promise to him, but would give him a fresh new layer of emotional brick to hide his heart behind.
She crammed in the last of her most essential clothes and jerked the straps to cinch them down tight.
The door chunked open and her heart punched so hard it hurt.
“Darya?” An urgent call. One filled with worry as well as anger. His quick footsteps sounded through the living room.
A cold sweat broke out against her skin, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t steady the ragged breaths chuffing out of her chest.
When he spoke again, his voice was as ragged as her own, the tone more of an accusation than a question. “What are you doing?” he said from behind her.
She forced herself to turn and nearly buckled at the stark vulnerability on his face. His attention wasn’t on her, but on the three suitcases waiting on the bed. “I have to go.” In that second, she’d have done anything to draw the words back. To rewind the last four weeks and take them slower. To savor every single second and not waste a moment on sleep. She’d thought she understood what JJ had meant about living, but now she understood. Really understood the meaning of loss.
“This has to do with what you saw in the log files.” It was a confirmation, not a question.
She nodded. “Yes.” She braced her hand on the open suitcase, needing something—anything to keep her upright and steady. “I checked the IP address. It’s from Russia.”
He inched cautiously into the room. “Sixty percent of our hack attacks come from Russia. That doesn’t mean anything.”
“It does when the name Koschei is tied to them.”
His eyes narrowed, a predator who’d just watched his prey take a full step into its trap. “That why you ducked out early and logged into our security apps remotely?”
Of course, he’d know. What Knox didn’t glean from physically watching through the cameras mounted in every nook and cranny of his office, he monitored electronically through logins and God only knew how many code traps. She swallowed hard, hating the sludge of betrayal tossing in her stomach. “I wanted to believe it was a coincidence. I left early to think about what I wanted to say. How to share my past. On the way home I remembered the recordings. I thought looking would help calm my nerves. Help me realize I was probably overthinking things.”
“And?”
“I wasn’t overthinking things.”
In a flash, his expression shifted. Raw fury eradicating any trace of fear or loss. “Show me.”
The force of his directive jolted her into action, sending her on unsteady feet to the company laptop still poised on her dresser. It took three tries to enter her password, his scalding presence licking fire against her back. The second her password took, the screen displayed the frame she’d left the footage on. She pointed to a parking lot across the street and a cable company worker walking toward his truck. His dark hair was short and a well-trimmed beard covered his jawline. His eyes were covered with mirrored sunglasses. “This is wrong.”
Knox leaned in closer. “You’re packing your shit and running because a cable guy was caught on tape across the street from where I work?” He straightened and looked her in the eye, an incredulous fire burning behind his gray gaze. “Are you out of your mind?”
“He’s not a cable worker, Knox. Look at him.” She tapped the screen again. “Have you ever seen a cable worker wear coveralls? In August? And where are his tools? He has none. Never took any out of the van with him. In fact, all he ever did was disappear out of the camera’s range for a short time.”
A trace of comprehension seemed to register and she’d swear he stopped breathing.
Darya zoomed in the image. “I almost missed it, but once I looked closer, this made it certain.” She pointed to the man’s hand. A half monster, half man was tattooed on the back of it. “This is Koschei and the men who serve him all wear it.”
“You said it was a folklore.”
“It is, but the man who is after me took the moniker for his own. He believes he cannot die. Believes he’s invincible. And he wants me.”
“Like a hit? Retribution? What?”
She met his stare and tried to swallow, the harshness of her reality stealing any moisture from her tongue. Never in a million years would she forget the way Ruslan had looked at her. She couldn’t let him get her, but more than that, she couldn’t let him hurt Knox. “No, he wants me.”
She wasn’t sure what she expected. More arguments, maybe. Or an elevation of simmering rage he’d already displayed. Instead a fierce determination slipped into place. Indomitable, resolute conviction. “He can want all goddamn day, but he can’t have you.”
Ice-cold terror cracked and splintered through her veins. “Knox, you don’t know what this man is like. I promised you that first day my past would only come for me. Only I didn’t know how things would end up between us. If Ruslan has so much as an inkling you and I are together, he’ll kill you. Possibly hurt the other people you love just to make a point. I have to go and I need to do it quickly so I draw him away from you. From all of you.”
“You really fucking think I’m letting you walk out that door? You think I’d let you throw away what we’re building?” He inched closer, his voice deadly steady. “Sweetheart, I wouldn’t leave an employee hanging out in a situation like this, let alone the woman who’s sleeping full time in my bed.”
Every scrap of frustration, anger and fear she’d buried since the day she’d escaped Russia surged in one unforgiving burst. “He’ll kill you. Don’t you get it?”
He opened his mouth.
Before he could speak, she cut him off. “Three people have given for me. Sacrificed so I could have a life. They did that because they loved me and now it’s my turn. Do I want to leave? No. The last thing I want to do is be away from you, but I will not let Ruslan hurt the man I love or his family. Ever.”
One second.
That was all it took and the tension in Knox shifted. Where the air around him had practically sparked with aggression and untamed ferocity, now it hummed with a supercharged focus centered squarely on her. His voice was tightly leashed, a powder keg of emotion compacting his quiet words. “You love me?”
So vulnerable. A rawness she knew without a shadow of doubt he gave only to her. She cupped the side of his face and drew in his woodsmoke and black currant scent deep into her lungs, willing it to imprint deep for the lonely days and nights to come. “Another boundary I crossed, I know. But how could I not? You’re you.”
Faster than she’d ever seen him move, he jerked her against him. His arms banded around her, coiled unmovable steel pinning her flush against his chest. Fingers tangled in her hair, he held her cheek above his heart while his heart beat a frantic rhythm beneath her ear.
God, she’d miss him. Their physical connection for sure, but more than that, his mind and staggering capacity for goodness. No one within Knox’s sphere wanted for anything. Not if he could help it. Especially her. Because whether he realized it or not, he’d given her the world just by being him.
She pressed her hands against his chest, but his hold wouldn’t budge. “Knox, I have to go. If he finds you with me...” A shudder racked her from head to toe, the horrid stories gleaned from her days working with Yefim stirring unwelcome images in her mind. “Please,” she muttered. “If something happened to you or your family, I could never forgive myself.”
His arms loosened only enough to let him soothingly stroke her spine and lay a sweet kiss to the top of her head. He chuckled low, the beautiful sound completely incongruent with the moment, but beautiful all the same. “The guys were right. I should have just claimed you right out of the chute.”
This time when she pushed against him, he gave her enough play to meet his gaze. “Claim me? What’s that supposed to mean?”
His smile was pure confidence laced with wickedness. “Exactly what it sounds like. That you’re mine. You, your past and your future.”
She fisted her hands in his T-shirt, the faded red fabric so soft it was a wonder it didn’t tear behind her brutal grip. “Didn’t you hear me? I have to go.”
“I heard you. Though, if I’d listened to my brothers four weeks ago, you’d know by now our women don’t sacrifice anything for us. They live how they want. Free. Without fear. And that happens because we have the means and the fortitude to obliterate any threat to their happiness, no matter where that threat comes from.”
“Knox—”
“No.” Knox dipped close. His deep voice reverberated through her, a thundering vow delivered with an assassin’s stealth. “I don’t know who Ruslan is or what he wants with you, but your days of running are over. We’re going to close those suitcases, get them and you in my car, and then you’re going to give me the whole damned backstory while I take you home.”
More than anything she wanted to do just that. To give way and let yet another person protect and shield her from the ugliness of her past. “I can’t do that. Think of your mothers. Vivienne, Natalie and Gabe. Or worse, Levi. If Ruslan can’t get to me, he’ll use them.”
Knox dropped his hands, slow as though he’d had to force the action, then stepped back. “I don’t think you understand.” He turned for the bed and coiled his hand around the handle of one packed suitcase. “The only place you’re going is with me.”