Raina POV
The panic room breathes.
Not like a person..
like a machine pretending to be one.
Soft circulation. A faint vibration in the walls. A low, steady hum meant to lull the nervous system into believing everything is fine.
Everything is not fine.
I sit on the edge of the narrow bed, hands clasped so tightly together that my knuckles have gone white. The word still echoes in my head, a single syllable that has rearranged the architecture of my memories.
Da.
It doesn't sound like much.
But it carries the weight of a kingdom.
Russia comes back in pieces. Not images at first....sensations.
The bite of winter through glass.
The way Kabir's shoulders went rigid when his phone rang.
The way he had looked at me like I was something precious and dangerous at the same time.
And now Ethan.
The way he had gone still when I said the word.
Not confused.
Not curious.
Recognizing.
The door slides open.
I don't turn immediately. I already know it's him. The air changes when Ethan enters a room, like pressure shifting before a storm.
He stops a few steps inside, not close, not far. Controlled distance. The kind a man keeps when he's afraid of what will happen if he crosses it.
"You should try to sleep," he says quietly.
I laugh once, short and broken. "You're joking."
Silence answers me. Heavy, layered silence.
I finally look at him.
His hair is slightly disheveled, the crisp order he usually wears like armor undone. His shirt is open at the throat, the tension in his body visible even in stillness. He looks like a man holding himself together with will alone.
"What did you call?" I ask.
He doesn't pretend not to understand. "Someone who listens."
"And what did he say?"
A beat. Just one.
"That you are to be kept safe."
The words are simple. The implication is not.
I stand. My legs feel unsteady, but I refuse to let him see it. "That's what Kabir said. That's what he told whoever he was talking to in Russia. He said, 'Protect her.'"
Ethan's jaw tightens. "I know."
The admission hits me harder than any denial could have.
"You knew," I whisper.
"I suspected," he corrects. "Enough to be careful."
"Careful?" My voice rises despite myself. "You married me and hid me from the world for four years. You built a fortress around my life. You watched me like...like...."
"Like someone who couldn't afford to be careless," he finishes.
The room feels too small for the truth pressing between us.
"Why?" I ask. "Why me?"
He looks at me then, really looks, and something in his eyes shifts. The perfect control fractures, just a hairline crack....but it's there.
"Because you were already marked," he says quietly. "And because once a woman is marked in that world, there are only two options. She becomes a bargaining chip… or she becomes untouchable."
My breath catches. "And you chose to make me untouchable."
"I chose to stand in front of you," he says.
The words land with terrifying clarity.
I take a step toward him without meaning to. The air between us tightens, charged, alive. I can feel the heat of him now, the gravity. My pulse stutters.
"You can't keep doing this alone," I say. "You can't keep carrying it like I'm a secret you're protecting from yourself."
His gaze drops to my mouth. Just for a second. It's enough.
Something in him snaps.
He closes the distance in two strides, hands coming up to my arms, not rough, but firm....like he's anchoring himself as much as me. The contact sends a shock through my system, electric and undeniable.
"Raina," he says, low, strained. "You don't understand what you're asking."
"I'm asking you not to lie to me," I whisper.
His hands tighten fractionally. His breathing deepens. I can feel the restraint burning through him, the battle between control and need.
"You want the truth?" he murmurs. "The truth is that I have spent years keeping my distance because wanting you is a liability in a world that trades in weakness. The truth is that every time you look at me like that, I have to remind myself that loving you openly paints a target on your back."
My heart pounds. "And now?"
"And now," he says, voice rough, "the target is there whether I touch you or not."
The logic is brutal. The emotion beneath it is worse.
I lift my hand and place it over his heart. I feel it racing, powerful and unsteady.
For a moment, he doesn't move.
Then he leans in.
The kiss is not gentle.
Not polite.
It's the kind of kiss that comes from years of restraint collapsing in on itself...controlled at first, then desperate, then fierce with the knowledge that it might be the last time he allows himself this.
His hand slides to my waist, pulling me closer. I feel the strength in him, the tension, the need to protect colliding with the need to claim.
The world narrows to breath and heartbeat and the overwhelming sense of being wanted by a man who is terrified of what that wanting will cost.
He breaks the kiss abruptly, forehead resting against mine, eyes closed as if in pain.
"This is a mistake," he whispers.
I shake my head. "It's the truth."
He opens his eyes. They are dark, storm-filled, no longer pretending to be calm.
"Raina," he says, "if I let myself want you without restraint, I become dangerous in ways even I can't fully control."
I swallow. "Maybe I already live in danger."
For a second, neither of us moves.
Outside this room, men are watching.
Listening.
Calculating.
Inside it, two people stand at the edge of something that will change everything.
Ethan POV
I step back because if I don't, I will forget every reason I ever had to be careful.
Her lips are still parted, breath unsteady. The imprint of her is on me like heat through fabric, impossible to ignore.
The secure line vibrates in my pocket.
The timing is surgical.
I answer without taking my eyes off her.
The voice on the other end is low, calm, carrying the weight of command and history.
"You're close to her," he says.
It isn't a question.
"Yes."
A pause. The kind that measures.
"Closeness creates vulnerability."
"Closeness creates loyalty," I reply.
Another pause. Longer.
"She must remain untouched by the storm."
"I will not allow the storm to touch her."
The voice softens almost imperceptibly. "Then you will stand where storms break."
The word comes again, final, heavy with promise and consequence.
"Da."
The call ends.
I lower the phone slowly.
Raina watches me, understanding in her eyes even without the details.
"Who was that?" she asks.
"The man who decides when a war becomes personal," I say.
"And what did he decide?"
"That you are to be protected at any cost."
A chill runs through her. Through me.
We stand there, the space between us charged with everything unsaid, everything inevitable.
She realizes it at the same moment I do.
I see it in her eyes.
I feel it in my chest.
We are no longer pretending that this is just about safety.
It is about allegiance.
Inheritance.
And a love that has become a line in the sand.
Outside, the enemies are watching.
Above us, the ledger has opened.
And inside this room, two people understand the same terrible truth:
The world has noticed them.
And it will not look away.