“What if I can’t stay?” I whispered, breath shaking. “What if I can’t forgive you? This marriage ends in ten months, Misha. You said you’d let me go.”
His eyes darkened, and something unholy flickered in his expression.
“That contract was a leash—I thought if I controlled the terms, I could control the obsession. But now I’d burn it if you asked me to. It’s you or nothing, Luna.”
He leaned in, his words dragging heat down my spine.
“I’ll fight for you. For your sister. For the fucking world if I have to. But I’m not letting you go, Luna. Not in twelve months. Not ever.”
His lips brushed my temple—a brand more than a kiss—and I broke.
I melted into him, even as guilt carved me open.
IsawGabriela’s face—her tiny hand in mine, hiding under Mama’s bed, my whisper: “I’ll always protect you, Gabi.”
I’d failed. Again.
But wrapped in Misha’s arms, I could almost believe redemption was possible, even if I didn’t deserve it.
Two days passed like a slow bleed. Every second without knowing Gabriela’s fate felt like torture. The air was heavy with dread, the Vargas cartel’s threat wrapped around my throat like a noose.
Misha had sworn to bring her back. I’d watched him command Oleg and Nikolai with a cold fury, his voice sharp and low, eyes flicking to mine like a silent promise.
“She’ll be back by dawn, Luna. I swear it,” he’d said, and I clung to those words like a lifeline, even as my hands trembled, even as the burner phone’s message kept echoing in my skull:Surrender yourself or she dies.
The hours crawled. Every minute was a fresh wound. Then, just as the first grey light touched the sky, Nikolai returned—his face grim, coat stained with blood, but behind him.
Gabriela.
Her white dress was ripped. Her eyes wide. But she was alive.
I didn’t think. I ran. I grabbed her, held her like I could merge our broken pieces into one. “Luna,” she whispered, her voice shaking, “I was so scared.”
“I know,” I cried into her hair. “I know.”
Misha stood nearby like a shadow—hands clenched, jaw tight, blue eyes soft in a way that made my throat tighten. He didn’t interrupt. He let me have this moment. And when I met his gaze, breathless with gratitude and heartbreak, I choked out, “Thank you.”
He only nodded. No words. Just a flicker of something I didn’t know how to name, but it rooted deep.
The relief didn’t last.
Later, once Gabriela was tucked safely into bed, Misha pulled me aside. His face was stone. His touch was steady. But his eyes—his eyes were a storm.
“There’s something else,” he said. “Stepan’s letter... the Rojas cartel... my men found more in Bogotá.”
My breath caught.
“Your father, Luna. He didn’t just know about Stepan’s betrayal—he ordered it. Sold him to the Vargas cartel for protection. He’s here. In Yakutsk. Meeting with Bratva men at some filthy restaurant. I could kill him right now, but he’s still your father. I won’t take that from you unless you tell me to.”
The ground shifted beneath me.
My father. The man I once defended. The man I used to love back when Mama was alive, before power rotted him from the inside out. Before he sold me off like cartel property and left Gabriela to fend for herself, like she was nothing.
A cold, burning fury rose in my chest, steady and sharp.
“Take me to him,” I said, my voice like ice.
Misha allowed it.
