Page 77 of Hostage of the Russian
“Drop the gun, Kostya.” Danny moved behind her, pressing the barrel hard against her temple, making her wince. His other arm wrapped around her throat. “Drop it now, or I’ll paint the walls with her brains.”
For a moment, nobody moved. The warehouse held its breath, waiting for someone to break the stalemate. Azriel could feel her father’s hand trembling against her head, could hear his rapid breathing in her ear.
He was going to kill her. And then he was going to kill Kostya. She could see it in his eyes, the same cold calculationthat had marked her childhood. He had nothing left to lose, which made him infinitely dangerous.
Kostya’s weapon began to lower, his face tight with conflict. “Don’t hurt her.”
“Too late for that.” Danny’s finger tightened on the trigger. “Should have thought of that before you decided to play god.”
In that moment, Azriel saw everything with perfect clarity. Her father’s face, twisted with rage and desperation. Kostya’s dark eyes, filled with love and terror. The future stretching out before them, cut short by one man’s selfishness.
She thought of Kostya’s hands, gentle on her skin. His voice, soft in the darkness, telling her she was safe. His family, welcoming her with warmth she’d never known. The life they could build together, if only they survived this moment.
She thought of her father’s hands, raised in anger. His voice, sharp with criticism and disappointment. The life he’d tried to force her into, small and afraid and worthless.
The choice was simple.
Azriel snapped her head back with every ounce of strength she possessed, the back of her skull connecting with Danny’s nose in a sickening crunch. He screamed, his arm loosening around her throat as blood poured down his face, his grip on the gun wavering for just a moment.
It was enough.
Kostya’s shot took Danny center mass, the impact spinning him away from Azriel’s chair. He crashed into a stack of crates, blood spreading across his chest in a dark stain. The gun clattered across the concrete, sliding into the shadows.
Danny Hartford tried to speak, his mouth working soundlessly. His eyes found Azriel’s one last time, and she saw something there that might have been regret. Or maybe just surprise that she’d finally fought back.
Then he was gone, his body going still as the last breath left his lungs.
Kostya was beside her in an instant, his hands gentle as he cut through the zip ties. The circulation returned to her hands in a rush of pins and needles, but she barely noticed. She was alive. They were both alive.
“I love you too,” she whispered against his neck as he pulled her into his arms. “I love you too.”
Chapter 25 - Kostya
The cemetery stretched out under an overcast Chicago sky, headstones dotting the green landscape like scattered teeth. Kostya stood slightly behind Azriel, close enough to catch her if she fell but far enough to give her space to grieve. The small gathering consisted of just them, the priest, and two gravediggers who waited respectfully at a distance.
Danny Hartford’s funeral was a modest affair. No elaborate flower arrangements, no crowds of mourners, just a simple casket and a woman saying goodbye to a father who had never deserved her love. Kostya had arranged everything quietly, using contacts who knew how to handle burials without asking questions about the cause of death.
Azriel stood perfectly still as the priest spoke about forgiveness and eternal rest, her black dress stark against her pale skin. She hadn’t cried yet, not since that moment in the warehouse when she’d whispered those three words against his neck. The shock was still there, written in the careful way she held herself, the distant look in her smoky gray eyes.
Kostya’s chest tightened as he watched her drop a single white rose onto the lowering casket. He’d killed men before, dozens of them, and never lost sleep over it. But seeing Azriel stand over her father’s grave, knowing his bullet had put Danny there, carved something hollow in his stomach.
“Thank you,” she said quietly as they walked back toward the car, her hand tucked into the crook of his arm. “For arranging this. For letting me say goodbye properly.”
“You don’t need to thank me for that.” The words came out rougher than he intended. “Azriel, about what happened...”
“Don’t.” She stopped walking and turned to face him fully. “Don’t you dare apologize for saving my life.”
“I killed your father.”
“My father killed himself the moment he decided to use me as bait.” Her voice was steady, matter-of-fact. “What you did in that warehouse—that was justice. Maybe the only kind of justice Danny Hartford was ever going to face.”
Kostya studied her face, looking for signs of the breakdown he was sure had to be coming. But all he saw was a woman who had made peace with hard truths, who understood the world they lived in better than he’d given her credit for.
“He’s finally at peace now,” she continued, glancing back toward the cemetery. “And he can’t hurt anyone else. Maybe that’s how it was always supposed to end.”
They drove home in comfortable silence, her hand resting on his thigh as he navigated the afternoon traffic. The weight of her touch grounded him, reminded him that she was here, alive, choosing to be beside him despite everything that had happened.
The mansion felt different when they walked through the front door, like a house that had been holding its breath and could finally exhale. Kostya helped her out of her coat, his fingers lingering on her shoulders longer than necessary.
