I reach for her hand. “So, do you still want to be mine?”
Her fingers lace through mine. “I think I wanted it the moment you chased me through the woods like I was the only thing that ever mattered.”
I lean in, press my mouth to her knuckles. “You are.”
She exhales, leaning her head back. “What if I’m not built for this world?”
“You don’t need to be. That’s what I’m for.”
I stand and offer my other hand. She takes it without hesitation and I pull her up and into me.
“Let’s go down for dinner and tell my brothers the news,” I murmur.
And just like that, she’s walking out the door beside me,not as a prisoner, not as prey, but as my other half.
Rachel
Dinner was a flurry of business talk, much to mine and Clara’s boredom, and baby talk, much to the dismay of most of the men. Now, I’m cross-legged on Nikolai’s bedroom floor, surrounded by printouts, spreadsheets, and a cold cup of tea I forgot to drink.
Because the numbers aren’t adding up.
At first, I thought it was just the formatting. A decimal in the wrong place, a misaligned column, maybe a lazy entry. But I’ve checked it twice now, three times in fact, and the discrepancy is deliberate. Someone’s moving money through the supply chain, shaving off small amounts here and there, just enough to avoid raising red flags. Just enough to go unnoticed.
Unless you're someone like me.
I sit back, heart hammering, and run my fingers through my hair. This isn’t a simple accounting error. This is theft. Theft from the Vasilievs.
My stomach twists.
I should feel scared. I should question whether it’s my place to say anything. But I remember the way Nikolai looked at me when he handed me the laptop with these files, like I was capable, like I mattered. I remember the way Maksim nodded when I asked for more reports, the quiet respect in his eyes.
I get to my feet, gather the papers, and make my way down the hall to Nikolai’s office.
The door is slightly ajar. I knock once and push it open. He’s leaning back in his chair, phone to his ear, but the moment he sees me, he ends the call and sets the phone down.
“You okay?” he asks.
“I found something,” I say, stepping inside.
His eyes darken with interest. “What kind of something?”
“The kind that could get someone killed,” I say quietly.
That gets his full attention. He rises from the chair, closing the space between us in three long strides. “Show me.”
I spread the pages out on his desk. “These are inventory logs from your southern shipping depot, cross-referenced with invoices from your third-party suppliers. There are small amounts being rerouted, skimmed, falsified, whatever you want to call it, but it’s systematic. And clever. Whoever’s doing it knows how to hide in plain sight.”
Nikolai doesn’t say a word. His jaw ticks as he flips through the pages.
“I triple-checked it,” I add. “It’s not just one location. It’s all connected. I don’t know how far it goes, but it’s coordinated.”
He picks up his phone and calls Maksim. “You’re going to want to come to my office. Now.”
Within minutes, Maksim steps inside, sharp-eyed and composed with someone I haven’t met on his heels. Nikolai hands him the papers without preamble.
“She found something,” he says to Maksim.
Maksim’s gaze moves to me, then back to the documents. He doesn’t speak for a long time.