But Chernov just tilted his head.
“Feisty,” he said. “I like that. Let’s break it.”
She was going to die.
They were going to...
And I...
I was tied to a chair, tasting copper, my body shaking not from pain but rage. Pure, concentrated rage. If I could rip the tendons from my own wrists to get free, I would’ve done it in that second.
But all I could do was watch as Chernov grabbed her by the jaw, forcing her to look at me.
“This is what he brought you to,” he hissed. “This is what love looks like.”
She didn’t look away.
She didn’t blink.
She just whispered, “You won’t win.”
But I didn’t hear hope in her voice.
I heard goodbye.
And that—that was what broke me.
Not their threats. Not their piss. Not the pain.
Her voice. Her softness. Her stupid, suicidal loyalty.
Because now, it wasn’t just my death they wanted.
It was hers.
And if I couldn’t stop them—if I couldn’t tear this fucking room apart with my bare hands—then I’d find another way. Another weapon. Another kind of war.
Even if it meant becoming something I could never come back from.
LUNA
They thought I came alone.
That I walked blindly into this slaughterhouse because love made me stupid.
Let them believe it.
Oleg and Nikolai were already in motion. This wasn’t a rescue. It was an execution, just not mine.
But first, I had to play their game.
“You think I need to force her?” Chernov murmured, stepping behind Misha with a glinting blade in hand. “I won’thave to lift a finger before she strips herself bare. I know exactly how to break her.”
He pressed the knife to Misha’s throat. Blood bloomed instantly, a crimson thread running down his neck.
“Misha!” I gasped, instinct dragging me a step forward before I stopped myself. My pulse thundered in my ears.
One wrong move before the signal and we’d both be dead. That beep wasn’t just permission—it meant the path was clear.
