Page 15 of Dark Promise

I glare at him, defiance flaring even as logic wins out—prudence before pride. I slip behind him as he steps forward.

His presence fills the space like a thundercloud, oppressive and crackling with danger.

“What the fuck?” the lean one snarls, blood dripping from the claw marks I left on his hand.

“Walk away,” Nikolai says to the men.

“We’re were hired to do a job and we’re going to do it.”

“You will not touch this woman again. You will not even look at her,” Nikolai replies, his tone calm but with an edge that could cut steel. “I am changing the parameters of the job. If you want the second half of the payment, you will walk away.”

“You aren’t the one who hired us,” the larger man says, sounding sullen. “So we’re gonna follow the orders we were given.”

The lean one lunges first, but Nikolai moves like liquid shadow—fast, precise, deliberate. His fist crashes into the man’s jaw with a crack so sharp I feel it reverberate in my own chest.

The bigger one charges, his knife gleaming, but Nikolai sidesteps effortlessly, his coat whipping in the wind as he catches the man’s wrist mid-swing. The knife clatters to the ground. My pulse thunders in my ears as I watch Nikolai lean in close, his grip unyielding on the thug’s wrist. The man howls in pain, his knees buckling, but Nikolai doesn’t let go.

“You touch her again, and I’ll leave you in pieces,” he says, his voice low and venomous. He doesn’t shout threats. He delivers them like promises carved in stone.

I hate him. I hate the way he commands the scene, like he owns it.

Like he owns me.

The other man scrambles to his feet, clutching his jaw, and grabs his partner, dragging him away. They disappear into the swirling snow, leaving the hijacked limo behind and a trail of blood in their wake.

I’m shaking, adrenaline still coursing through me as I stare after them. The snow feels colder now, sharper against my exposed skin.

Nikolai turns to me, his chest heaving, his jaw tight. His blue eyes pierce through the storm, locking onto me with an intensity that makes it hard to breathe.

“Are you hurt?” he asks, his eyes burning into mine.

I take a step back. He’s too overwhelming, too dangerous, too much. He is my enemy, my family’s enemy. And from the conversation I just overheard, these men are here because his family sent them.

So why did he stop them?

I draw my coat tighter around me. “I didn’t ask for your help.”

“You didn’t have to.” His smile is infuriating, all sharp edges and superiority. Like he’s daring me to challenge him.

I don’t back down.

“Should I thank you?” My voice is pure venom, my chin lifting even as the adrenaline wanes. “Given that those were Ivanov men?”

“Not Ivanov men. Outside hires.” His expression hardens. “You should be more careful,” he says, his tone soft but cutting. “Men like that don’t wait for permission.”

“And men like you?” I counter, lifting my chin even as my pulse spikes. “Should I be afraid of you too?”

The look he gives me sends a shiver down my spine.

“Always,” he murmurs, the word a dark caress.

And in that moment, with the snow swirling and his blue eyes holding mine, I realize that Nikolai Ivanov is the kind of man who never stops being dangerous. Not to the men he just drove away. Not to my family. And not to me.

5

Sabina

A second limoglides to a stop, its sleek black frame gleaming under the light of the streetlamp. Nikolai doesn’t hesitate. He yanks open the back passenger door and guides me inside, his movements commanding, his touch firm but not rough. The press of his palm against the small of my back burns hotter than it should, like a brand I can’t shake off.

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