“No arguments, Alyssa. I need to know you’re safe so I can focus on dealing with Kozlov.”
The protectiveness in his voice makes my heart race for reasons that have nothing to do with fear. Since I moved in with him, I’ve seen sides of Maksim I never expected—the responsiblebusinessman, the caring brother, the man who values loyalty above all else. Watching him prepare to face a potential threat without so much as flinching only reinforces how much I’ve come to admire his quiet strength.
“Be careful,” I tell him, meaning it more than I’ve meant anything in weeks.
He pauses at the office door and looks back at me. “Always am.”
The brothers leave, and Cecily moves to the window that overlooks the main courtyard. I join her, and we watch together as Maksim and Dmitri approach five men waiting near the security gate.
Vincent Kozlov is a thin man in an expensive suit, the kind of person who looks like he’s never done manual labor in his life. His four companions are clearly muscle—broad shoulders, dead eyes, and the telltale bulges of concealed weapons.
“Can you hear what they’re saying?” I ask.
“Not from here. But watch their body language.”
The conversation starts cordially enough. Maksim and Kozlov shake hands, and there’s even some laughter from the assembled men. For a moment, I allow myself to hope that this will be resolved diplomatically.
Then Kozlov says something that makes Maksim’s spine snap straight. Dmitri takes a step closer to his brother, and the muscle men spread out into a more tactical formation.
“This is about to go bad,” Cecily mumbles, bringing her hand to cover her mouth.
She’s right. I can see the exact moment when politeness transforms into hostility. Maksim’s voice carries across thecourtyard, too distorted by distance and glass to understand the words but clear enough to convey anger.
Kozlov responds by gesturing sharply to his men, and suddenly, everyone is reaching for weapons.
The first gunshot makes me scream and duck below the window frame. Cecily grabs my arm and drags me toward the back of the office as more shots ring out, followed by shouting and the sound of running feet.
“Stay down,” she hisses, though her fear is evident despite her attempt to remain calm.
Through the chaos, I can hear Maksim’s voice barking orders. The shooting seems to move away from the main courtyard, but the sound of gunfire continues to bounce off the warehouse walls.
“I have to see what’s happening,” I tell Cecily s I crawl back toward the window.
“Alyssa, don’t—”
But I’m already peering over the sill with my heart pounding as I search the courtyard for any sign of Maksim. What I see makes my blood freeze.
Two of Kozlov’s men are down, their bodies motionless on the concrete. Maksim and Dmitri have taken cover behind a shipping container, and they’re returning fire at someone I can’t see.
“Oh God,” I breathe as I watch Maksim lean around the container to take a shot. “He could get killed.”
Holy shit. I’m not afraid of Maksim anymore—I’m afraid for him. Somewhere in these past weeks, my terror of his dangerous world has transformed into terror at the thought of losing him.
“He knows what he’s doing,” Cecily assures me.
The gunfight lasts another three minutes that feel like hours. When the shooting finally stops, the silence is deafening. I watch as Maksim emerges from behind the container with his weapon still drawn as he cautiously approaches the bodies.
Kozlov is gone, apparently having fled when his men started dropping. Two of his muscle men are dead, while the other two are nowhere to be seen.
“It’s over,” Cecily announces with relief.
But it’s not over. As Maksim begins checking on his own people, I can see that several dock workers are injured. One man sits against a shipping container, holding his shoulder with blood seeping between his fingers. Another lies on the ground while someone applies pressure to a wound on his leg.
“They’re hurt,” I shout, already moving toward the door.
“Alyssa, wait—”
I don’t wait. I run from the office and across the courtyard, and my minimal understanding of first aid from spending one summer volunteering at a hospital suddenly feels inadequate but necessary.
