Page 77 of Arranged with Twins
The pistol falls from his fingers as he collapses to his knees, then forward onto the concrete floor. His eyes remain open, staring at nothing.
I’m across the room in three strides, pulling her chair back to an upright position before removing my knife from the ankle sheath to cut through the zip ties binding her wrists. Her hands are free in seconds, and then she’s in my arms, trembling againstmy chest. “You’re safe.” I hold her as tightly as I dare, afraid she might disappear if I let go. “You’re safe now.”
“Leo.” She clings to me with shaking hands, her face buried against my neck. “I knew you’d come. I knew you’d find me.”
“Are you hurt? Did he—” I pull back to examine her face, looking for signs of injury.
“I’m okay. We’re okay.” She places one hand on her stomach, and I understand she’s talking about the babies too. “He didn’t hurt me, not really, so much as scared me.”
Relief makes my knees weak. I pull her close again, breathing in her scent while savoring the solid warmth of her body against mine.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper against her ear. “I’m so sorry I didn’t protect you better.”
“You did protect me.” She pulls back to look at me, tears streaming down her face. “You were right about everything. My parents, Adrian… All of it. I should have listened.”
“None of that matters now.” I cup her face in my hands, wiping away her tears with my thumbs. “You’re safe. That’s all that matters.”
“I love you.” The words come out broken and fierce. “I should have trusted you when you tried to tell me the truth.”
“I love you too.” I kiss her forehead, her cheeks, and anywhere else I can reach. “I love you so much it terrifies me.”
Ilya appears in the doorway, weapon lowered but still alert. “The building’s secure. There are no casualties on our side.The men are gathering up Adrian’s surviving men for…off-site interrogation.”
I nod without looking away from Sienna. “Clean up here. Make sure there’s nothing that can be traced back to us.”
“Already on it.” His voice carries satisfaction. “What about the Coopers?”
The question lands like a lead balloon, creating instant silence. Vincent and Katherine’s betrayal led directly to this moment, to Sienna being tortured and threatened by a man who viewed her as disposable currency.
Seeing her haunted expression, I say, “We’ll deal with them later.” She doesn’t need to be thinking about them right now, and neither do I. My focus needs to be on her, rather than giving in to murderous rage. I help Sienna stand, keeping one arm around her waist for support. “Right now, I just want to get her home.”
“The safehouse?” Ilya asks, clearly referencing one of our properties in Brighton Beach.
“Yes.” I look down at Sienna, who nods against my chest. “Somewhere safe, where no one can touch her again.”
As we walk out of the warehouse, Sienna leans heavily against me. The adrenaline is wearing off, replaced by exhaustion and the aftereffects of whatever drug Adrian used to sedate her. She looks up at me with eyes that are clear despite her exhaustion. “I was wrong, about you trying to maintain control, and your motives. You were trying to save me.”
“We both made mistakes.” I help her into the passenger seat, then walk around to the driver’s side. “What matters is that we survived them.”
“My parents?—”
“Can wait.” I start the engine and pull out of the parking lot, leaving Adrian’s body and the warehouse behind us. “Tonight, I just want to hold you and know you’re safe.”
Sienna reaches across the console to take my hand. Her fingers are still shaking slightly, but her grip is strong.
“Take me home,” she says simply.
Home. For the first time since my parents died, that word means something more than just a secure location. It means Sienna, our children, and a future I almost lost to someone else’s greed and my own pride.
I squeeze her hand and drive toward the penthouse and the life we’ll build together despite everything that tried to tear us apart. I won’t let anything happen to her or separate us again. A world without her is too empty to consider.
27
Sienna
Leo drives us through the quiet streets of Brighton Beach as the city settles into late evening. The safe house sits in a residential area where Russian grandmothers hang laundry from fire escapes and corner markets stay open past midnight. It’s the kind of neighborhood where people mind their own business, which makes it perfect for disappearing.
The apartment building looks ordinary from the outside. It’s red brick and eight stories, with a few lights glowing in windows. Leo parks in an alley behind the building and leads me through a reinforced steel door that opens with his thumbprint.
