Page 43 of Veil of Shadows

“I need to know where we can go. Safe places. Contacts that can help us disappear if necessary,” I explain, urgency creeping into my tone.

“Disappearing isn’t easy,” he warns, running a hand through his hair. “Once you cut ties, there’s no turning back. You’ll be marked for death.”

“I know what I’m asking,” I reply, my heart racing at the thought of what’s at stake. “But I won’t let Alyssa face this alone.”

He nods slowly, understanding the gravity of the situation. “Alright. I can help with contacts, but you have to be ready to leave everything behind.”

“I’m ready,” I assert, feeling a flicker of determination within me. “What do I need to do?”

Sergei begins to outline a plan, detailing the resources he can provide. As he speaks, I can’t shake the feeling of impending doom that looms over us. The more I learn, the more I realize the depths of the danger we face.

“Viktor,” Sergei says, pausing mid-sentence. “If you do this, you’re declaring war on your own family. The Bratva will not let this go.”

I meet his gaze, the weight of my choice settling heavily on my shoulders. “I’m not afraid of them anymore. Not when it comes to her.”

Sergei studies me for a moment longer before nodding. “I’ll get you the information. But you need to act quickly. The longer you wait, the more exposed you become.”

As we wrap up our meeting, I can feel the tension in the air. I’ve stepped into a realm of uncertainty, and while I’m committed to protecting Alyssa, the risks I’m taking are monumental. I rise from the booth, determination coursing through me.

“Thanks, Sergei,” I say, knowing that this is just the beginning of a dangerous journey.

“Just remember,” he calls after me as I make my way to the exit. “Once you leave the Bratva, you may find that freedom comes with its own set of chains.”

The drive back to the safe house feels heavier than before. I grip the steering wheel, the tension in my body mirroring the dark clouds gathering overhead. I need to prepare Alyssa for what’s coming, and I can’t afford to show any signs of weakness.

Pulling into the driveway of the safe house, I see Alyssa waiting by the window, her silhouette framed against the soft light. She looks worried, and I feel a pang of guilt for putting her in this position. But I remind myself that it’s for her safety, thatevery decision I make is about protecting her from the storm brewing outside.

I step inside, and the air is thick with unspoken words. Alyssa looks up, her eyes searching mine for answers. “What happened?” she asks, her voice tense.

“I met with Sergei,” I say, trying to keep my tone steady. “We need to talk about our next steps.”

She crosses her arms, a defensive posture that instantly puts me on edge. “What do you mean? What did he say?”

“He’s going to help us find a safe place to go,” I reply, watching her expression shift from concern to frustration.

“A safe place?” she repeats, incredulous. “You think we can just run away? Viktor, this isn’t a game.”

“I know it isn’t,” I respond, feeling the urgency in her words. “But it’s the only way to keep you safe from the Bratva.”

She takes a step closer, her eyes narrowing. “And what about you? What happens to you when you leave?”

“I’m willing to take that risk,” I say firmly. “You’re worth it.”

Her expression softens for a moment, and I can see the conflict in her eyes. “But what if they come after you? What if—”

“They won’t,” I cut her off, my voice rising slightly. “I’ll protect you, no matter what it takes. I won’t let them hurt you, Alyssa.”

She exhales slowly, frustration bleeding into resignation. “This isn’t easy for me, Viktor. I need to know that you’re fully committed to this. That you’re willing to leave it all behind.”

“I am,” I assure her, stepping closer. “I’ve made my choice. I want a life with you, free from the shadows of the Bratva.”

For a moment, silence hangs between us, charged with unspoken feelings and the weight of our choices. The storm outside rages on, echoing the turmoil within.

“What if it doesn’t work out?” she finally asks, her voice barely above a whisper. “What if we’re caught?”

“We won’t be caught,” I say, trying to instill a sense of hope in her. “We’ll have a plan. And we’ll stick together.”

“Together,” she repeats, her gaze searching mine. “I want to believe that, but I also know how dangerous this is.”

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