Page 57 of Hostage of the Russian
“I’ll call you when I can,” he promised.
“Okay.”
He kissed her once more—quick and hard—then forced himself to walk away. He could feel her watching him as he gathered clothes and weapons, preparing for a hunt that might finally put an end to Danny Hartford.
As he headed for the door, he glanced back to see her silhouetted in the bathroom doorway, his shirt hanging loose on her small frame, her dark hair catching the early morning light.
The sight of her made his chest tighten with an emotion he was still learning to name.
Three months ago, she’d been nothing more than payment for her father’s debts.
Now, she was the reason he needed to come home alive.
Danny Hartford had no idea what kind of hell he’d unleashed by hurting this woman.
But he was about to find out.
Kostya would make sure of it.
Chapter 18 - Azriel
The fluorescent lights hummed overhead as Azriel stared at the stack of case files on her desk, her eyes burning from hours of concentration. The legal briefs blurred together, but she forced herself to keep working. Every argument had to be airtight, every precedent properly cited. She’d been at the law firm since seven that morning, determined to prove she belonged here despite being the newest paralegal in the criminal defense department.
Her colleagues had already filtered out hours ago, leaving their goodbyes echoing in the empty corridors. The cleaning crew had come and gone. Still, Azriel remained hunched over her computer, drafting motions and researching case law for the senior attorneys. This was her chance to show she deserved more than filing documents and scheduling depositions.
The promotion to junior associate wouldn’t just happen because she wanted it. She had to earn it, had to demonstrate that the degree actually meant something. At twenty-one, her age worked against her in a field where experience typically trumped academic achievement, but her analytical skills and legal instincts were undeniable. Every late night was an investment in her future, a step toward the independence she’d fought so hard to achieve.
Her phone buzzed with a text from her supervising attorney:Excellent work on the Hartwell motion. The judge granted our request. See you tomorrow.
A small smile tugged at her lips. Recognition felt good, even if it came in small doses. She saved her work and finally allowed herself to lean back in her chair, rolling the tension from her shoulders. The office building had grown eerily quiet, theonly sounds coming from the ventilation system and the distant hum of traffic far below.
She glanced at the time on her computer screen. Past midnight again. Kostya had been gone for five days now, handling what he’d vaguely described as “Bratva business.” The specifics eluded her, and that ignorance gnawed at her more than she cared to admit. She knew the basics of his world now, understood the danger that came with his name, but the details of his current mission remained frustratingly out of reach.
He could be anywhere,she thought, gathering her belongings.Fighting anyone. Getting hurt.
The worry surprised her with its intensity. When had she started caring so much about his safety? When had his absence begun to feel like a physical ache in her chest?
She shook her head, irritated with herself. Kostya was capable of handling whatever situation had called him away. He’d survived years in this world before she came along. Missing him this desperately was probably one-sided anyway. He had his brothers with him, his responsibilities, his empire to manage. She was just the woman he’d been forced to marry, the payment for her father’s betrayal.
The elevator descended in silence, carrying her toward the parking garage where her modest sedan waited. Kostya had offered to buy her something more expensive, more befitting of a Nikolai wife, but she’d refused. Some things she needed to maintain for herself, symbols of the life she’d built through her own effort.
The drive home took twenty minutes through Chicago’s late-night streets. Their house sat in an exclusive neighborhood, all manicured lawns and towering trees that provided privacy from prying eyes. She’d grown accustomed to the luxury, evenif she still felt like an imposter walking through rooms that cost more than most people’s annual salaries.
Her key turned in the lock, and she stepped into the foyer, expecting the usual greeting of silence and shadows. Instead, warm light spilled from the living room, and the scent of coffee hung in the air.
Her heart jumped.
She dropped her purse and laptop bag, moving quickly toward the light. Kostya sat sprawled across the leather couch, his long legs stretched out, his head tilted back against the cushions. His dark hair was mussed, his usually pristine clothing wrinkled and travel-worn. A day’s worth of stubble shadowed his jaw, and exhaustion lined his features.
He looked absolutely devastating.
“You’re back,” she said, the words coming out softer than she’d intended.
His eyes opened, those dark brown depths immediately focusing on her with an intensity that made her pulse quicken. A slow smile curved his lips, the kind that had probably charmed women across three continents.
“Hello, beautiful.”
Her cheeks warmed at the endearment, but she tried to maintain some composure. “What time did you get in? I thought you and your brothers were flying back together tomorrow.”
