His head drops, and I know he wants it the same way I do. A simple life. A quieter life. But when he looks up at me again, I see the reservations. “It’s my family. They’re my family, and I have a job to do.”
“Then take me with you.” I’m surprised to find that I mean it. Honestly. The thought of Yuri walking into danger by himself breaks my heart. I’d rather go down next to him than hear the news secondhand a week from now.
He shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I already talked to my dad, and if there’s absolutely no other option, he’s willing to get you new papers so you can start over. Your dad flaked on us recently, but he has done a lot of work with us over the years, and my father will honor that. His obsession with loyalty isn’t always such a bad thing.”
“I’m not starting over. Not without you.”
“Bella,” he sighs. “You don’t know me. Not really. I’m not going to let you put yourself in danger for me when you—”
“I do know you,” I say, storming across the room until my chest is heaving against his. I place my palms on his cheeks and draw his face down to mine. “I know you’re a man who constantly denies your own goodness. Who has heard enough people tell you how terrible you are that you believe them.”
I’m not sure where the words are coming from, but they feel true, so I don’t stop.
“You’re a man who doesn’t believe you’re worthy of anything good, so you destroy it before it’s taken from you. You will never admit it, but your heart is tender, and you have fought your entire life to protect it and hide it from your family.” I place a hand on his chest and feel the reliable thump in his chest. It beats into me like a war drum, giving me energy and inspiration. “I may not know all the details of your past, but I know you. And I’m not going to let you leave this room without me.”
His lips part to argue, but I stretch onto my tiptoes and press a kiss to them. I feel him hesitate for only a second before his arms are around my waist, and he’s arching me into him, getting rid of any space between us. I know I should be tired of him by now, tired of this, but I’m not. I don’t think it’s possible. Warmth spreads through my midsection, settling low between my legs, and I’m circling my hips into him when I hear the dampened metallic click in the hallway, followed by a thud.
Yuri must hear it too because he stiffens and then holds me at arm’s length.
“What was—” I start, but then it happens again and Yuri is spinning around, lunging for the bag he left by the bedroom door.
By the time he stands up, the doors have already been blown in.
The noise seems to come from everywhere, rattling the floors and the wall and the ceiling. The sound waves seem to rattle through my legs, and I feel like I’m going to fall over. But then Yuri’s arm is around my waist, and he’s dragging me to the ground.
My knees smack against the floor, but I can’t feel the pain because this is a dream. Or a nightmare, rather. It isn’t real.
“Bella.”
Yuri’s voice draws me out of my own head. I look at him, and his eyes are wide and wild, his face pale, mouth drawn in a stern line. He’s dragging me across the floor, and I realize I need to help him. I get to all fours and crawl behind the minibar, Yuri just behind me, as metallic bombs ring throughout the room.
We’re being shot at.
“Get down!” he yells, pushing on the back of my head as he stands up.
I want to drag him back down to the floor with me and curl into a ball, but I can’t. Physically because he’s much too strong for me. And logically, we would both die. Fighting back is our only chance. I just wish I had a weapon to fight with. Or knowledge of who we’re fighting against.
Is this The Society Yuri has been talking about? If so, why are they here to kill us?
Shots ring out from much closer, and I realize after screaming that it’s Yuri’s gun. He’s firing off shot after shot, ducking down next to me only to reload before standing up and taking aim again. It sounds like there are twenty men on the other side of the bar, but I actually have no idea. Which is almost nice because it means I don’t have any idea what our chances of survival are.
Yuri ducks down to reload, and I open the bar and grab a glass water bottle. I smash the thick base on the floor and it shatters open, spraying water and glass everywhere.
“No, don’t,” Yuri says, shaking his head without looking at me. “Stay hidden. I’ll take care of this.”
Before I can argue, he’s up again and shooting. I want to jump in and help, but it does sound like there are fewer shots being returned. And even if I did stand up, I would be bringing a glass bottle to a gunfight. Not exactly my brightest idea.
Yuri fires off a shot, and I hear a thud and then nothing. The silence that fills the room is eerie and unnatural. I listen for movement on the other side of the room—groaning, shuffling feet, the metallic shifting of bullets sliding into place, ready to be fired—but there’s nothing.
“Did you—”
Yuri puts his finger to his lips and crouches down beside me. He leans forward until his mouth is against my ear, and
