Page 20 of Tracking Shadows

“Maybe,” he replies, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Or maybe I’m just impressed that you haven’t killed me yet.”

“Don’t tempt me,” I shoot back, but there’s no bite in my words. In fact, there’s something almost playful, a spark that wasn’t there before.

“You look like you could use some rest yourself. I’ll take the first watch.”

I’m about to argue, but the look in his eyes tells me he won’t take no for an answer. And the truth is, I am exhausted. The stress of the past few days has been weighing heavily on me, and I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in what feels like forever.

“Alright,” I finally concede, rubbing my temples. “But wake me up if anything happens. We can’t afford to let our guard down.”

“You got it,” he says, his tone gentle. “Now go get some sleep, Irina. I’ll keep watch.”

I hesitate for a moment, looking at him one last time before turning to leave. “Thanks, Alexei.”

“Anytime,” he replies with a small smile. “Goodnight, Irina.”

I nod and make my way to the bedroom, but sleep doesn’t come easily. After tossing and turning for what feels like hours, I finally give up and get out of bed.

The house is quiet as I step into the hallway; the only sound is the soft creaking of the floorboards under my feet. I head towards the living room, where I find Alexei standing by the window, his silhouette illuminated by the pale moonlight filtering through the glass.

He’s shirtless, his back to me, and the sight of him in the soft light makes my breath catch. My eyes trace the strong lines of his shoulders, the way the muscles in his back ripple with every subtle movement. I know I should turn away, keep my distance, but I can’t.

Fuck, I want to touch him.

The thought is so sudden, so overwhelming, that it makes my breath hitch. My hand twitches at my side, and I have to curl my fingers into a fist to keep from reaching out. The urge to close the distance between us, to feel the heat of his skin under my palm, is almost unbearable.

Before I can force myself to leave, he turns slightly, catching sight of me out of the corner of his eye. His expression softens when he sees me, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe.

“Can’t sleep?”

I nod, swallowing hard. “Yeah, something like that.”

“Come here,” he says, his tone gentle but commanding.

I hesitate, but the pull is too strong. I take a few steps forward, closing the distance between us, until I’m standing right beside him. The air between us crackles with tension, and I’m acutely aware of the heat radiating from his body. He shifts slightly, making room for me at the window, and I’m so close to him that I can feel the warmth of his skin against my arm.

The moonlight streams through the window, casting everything in a silvery glow. It’s peaceful, almost serene, but with the way my heart is pounding, it feels anything but.

“When I can’t sleep,” he says quietly, his gaze fixed on the stars outside, “I like to watch the sky. Helps me clear my head.”

I snort, the sound harsh in the quiet room. “Didn’t take you for the stargazing type.”

He chuckles softly. “I was expecting you'd say that.”

We fall into a comfortable silence, just watching the stars together. The night is quiet, the world outside the window still and calm, but all I can think about is how close we’re standing. I can feel every breath he takes, every slight shift in his posture, and it’s driving me insane. I want to touch him, to feel his skin under my fingertips, to see if he’s as warm and solid as he looks. The need is so intense that it’s almost painful.

“You’ve never really told me,” he says suddenly, breaking the silence. “Why are you after Sergei?”

His question catches me off guard, and I stiffen slightly. I’ve spent so long keeping my past buried, locked away where no one can reach it, that I’m not sure how to respond.

I shrug, trying to play it off, but I know he’s not going to let it go that easily.

“It doesn’t matter,” I say, my voice flat, dismissive. But even to my own ears, the words sound hollow.

“It does,” he insists, turning to look at me. There’s something in his eyes, something soft and understanding, that makes me want to spill everything right there, to lay bare all the pain and anger that’s been festering inside me for so long. “I want to know.”

This isn’t something I talk about, not with anyone. But its weight has been crushing me for so long, and for some reason,tonight, it feels heavier than ever. Maybe it’s the stillness of the night, the way the world seems to hold its breath around us, or maybe it’s just that I’m just tired.

“My dad was in the military, and he was working on some undercover operations,” I say before I can second guess myself. There's no harm in talking, right? “He never brought his work home. The night it followed him home brought us to an end . . .. Some armed men came to our house, demanding some documents they believed my father had. When he refused, they killed my parents right in front of me. My brother, Ivan . . . they took him. I haven't seen him since.

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