Page 70 of Savage Reign

“Not looking for a drinking buddy,” I call out, hoping my sharp tone scares away whoever wants my attention.

The door creaks open, and Emil steps inside, his hands raised. “It’s only me.”

“Come in.” I sigh. “Want a drink?”

He shakes his head. “Nah, I’m good. Eva wanted me to let you know the plane is scheduled to take off first thing tomorrow.”

Fuck me. I nearly forgot about our trip to the Caucasus region to meet with the people we do business with—arms distributors, cartel representatives, mercenaries.

Emil steps forward, clearing his throat. “Would you consider letting me come along? I’d like to get experience dealing with arms negotiations and could back you up if things get tense.”

I set the empty glass on the desk and meet his gaze. “No. I need you here keeping an eye on Sofiya.”

His mouth tightens. “Can’t Matvey or one of the others handle it? We’ve never had trouble at the estate, and I want to do something that matters—not just stand around waiting for nothing to happen.”

“I said no,” I grit out, tired of the pushback. “And you’re not standing around. You’re guarding my wife.”

He opens his mouth, ready to fight me on this, but I pin him with a sharp glare. His expression tightens, and he nods. “Understood.”

I let out a slow breath and even my tone. “Next time. I haven’t forgotten what you’ve asked for.”

“Sure,” he says, already turning toward the door.

As he leaves, I roll my shoulders, trying to shake off the weight of too many demands and the nagging feeling that I’m losing control.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-FIVE

SOFIYA

Days pass,and I don’t see Nikolai. In fact, I don’t see anyone because I stay in my room, feigning illness. Yelena checks on me regularly, bringing meals, doting on me like a worried mother hen. She’s the one who mentions that Nikolai is out of town.

I didn’t want to face him; my emotions were a tangled mess I couldn’t begin to unravel. Knowing he’s not in the house so I won’t accidentally bump into him gives me the courage to finally leave my room.

After I shower and dress, I head down to the library, hoping to find something that will help me figure out where I am. If this estate was once owned by Catherine the Great’s niece, it must have some sort of history recorded. If I can pinpoint its location, I can pass those details on to Roman.

The library is as grand as the rest of the estate, with shelves stretching high and packed with books that smell of leather and dust. I trail my fingers along the spines, reading the faded titles.

A collection of Russian historical volumes catches my eye, their worn spines embossed with gold. I pull down a book on imperial estates and then another on notable Russian families. One by one, I gather a small stack and settle into a plush chair by the window.

Hours tick by as I sift through the books, cross-referencing passages and hunting for anything useful. All I uncover are vague mentions of grand estates—nothing concrete. Frustration bubbles over me as I toss the last book onto the floor and stretch out my back.

I wander to the window, needing a moment to clear my head. My gaze locks on to the woodlands stretching beyond the manicured grounds at the back of the property. A thought takes root: the woods are the only part of Nikolai’s estate I haven’t explored. If I’m going to find a meeting place for Roman to extract me when the time comes, it has to be there. If I can reach the boundary of the property, maybe I’ll stumble onto a road or find a landmark, anything to help figure out where I am.

I glance down at the ankle monitor. Nikolai said it only triggers if I leave his property, and the woods should still fall within the estate’s boundaries.

It’s almost three in the afternoon. The guards usually change shifts around this time, lingering to chat or grab a smoke. This is my window.

I leave the books scattered on the floor and head toward the door. There’s only enough time to run upstairs, swap this flimsy summer dress for something more practical, and put on better shoes than these slip-on sneakers.

As I rush from the library, I collide with Emil right outside the doorway.

“Whoa. Where are you running off to?” he asks, steadying me with a hand.

Emil already warned me that I’m supposed to let him know whenever I go outside, but I don’t want his company for what I have planned. If he sees me outside, I’ll need a good excuse.

I shrug. “Yelena’s giving me cooking lessons again. Figured I’d grab some herbs from the garden before we start.”

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