The storm had passed, but the air was still heavy, thick with the scent of damp pine and smoke. The cabin creaked as wind brushed the shutters, and for the first time in hours, Dimitri allowed himself to breathe.
Natalia sat on the cot, her wet hair clinging to her cheeks. The fire he had managed to coax to life flickered weakly between them, casting long shadows across the walls. She had not spoken since the last time she had almost lost control, but now, there was no blue light, no strange pulse. Just her, human, fragile, and terrified.
He cleaned his rifle in silence, the metallic clicks steady and methodical. It was easier to focus on that than the ache in his shoulder or the way her eyes kept flicking toward him, searching for something she could not name.
"You should let me bandage that," she said finally, her voice soft, uncertain.
He didn't look up. "It's fine."
"It is not. You are bleeding through your shirt."
He sighed, set the rifle down, and leaned back against the wall. "You don't have to play nurse, Natalia."
"I'm not playing nurse or whatever it is you think I'm playing," she said quietly, standing. "I'm trying to keep you alive."
Her tone silenced him as she crossed the small room, picked up the torn remains of a first aid kit, and knelt beside him. The smell of antiseptic filled the air. Dimitri stayed still as she dabbed at his shoulder, her touch gentle but trembling. He watched her face, the shadows beneath her eyes, the small crease between her brows. She had seen too much and somehow, she was still here.
"Why did you not tell me everything?" she asked suddenly. "About Specter, your father, all about it."
His jaw tightened. "Because none of it matters anymore."
"It matters to me," she whispered. "I trusted you."
He looked away. "Trust gets people killed."
"And secrets don't?" Her voice broke slightly, but she did not stop working. She wrapped the bandage around his arm and tied it firmly. "You think you are protecting me by keeping me in the dark, but you are not. You are just pushing me away."
Dimitri's gaze softened. "You don't understand what Specter is capable of."
"Then make me understand," she said, meeting his eyes. "You owe me that."
For a moment, all he heard was the fire's faint crackle. Then he spoke, his voice low and rough. "Specter was not just a man. He was my father's and your father's partner in business, in blood. When my father built the Volkov syndicate, Specter, along with your father, helped him carve it out of nothing. But power changes people. My father wanted loyalty and power but Specter wanted control. This led to a battle for power between both of them, so after my father's death, he stepped up."
"And you?" she asked.
"I wanted out." He gave a humorless laugh. "When you grow up surrounded by death, you start to think maybe there is another way to live so I left. I took the soldiers who were still loyal and had them disappear. Specter was waiting behind the scenes, so when he passed away, Specter took everything else: money, contacts, and bloodlines. He built an empire in the shadows, and now he is hunting me for what I stole."
"What did you steal?" she asked.
Dimitri's eyes darkened. "You."
The words hit like a gunshot, Natalia froze. "What do you mean?"
"He had plans for you," Dimitri said. "You were supposed to be his leverage, a pawn in his deal with the Bratva council. But I could not let that happen. So I took you and ran."
Natalia's breath caught. "You… you knew what I was?"
"I knew enough," he said, his voice tight. "You were never supposed to know who he really was. But he has been watching you for years, from your father's death, your plan for vengeance, grooming you for something. I could not stand by and let him."
The silence that followed was suffocating. Natalia stood slowly, wrapping her arms around herself. "So everything… all of this… was because of him."
He rose too, wincing at the pain in his shoulder. "No, all of this is because I could not let him take you."
Their eyes met, his full of guilt, hers full of confusion and hurt. She wanted to hate him, to scream, but she couldn't. Because behind the lies, behind the chaos, there was truth in his voice. He had saved her, maybe for selfish reasons, maybe not but he had saved her.
"Why?" she whispered. "Why risk everything?"
He hesitated, then stepped closer. "Because somewhere along the way, protecting you stopped being a chore, it became the only thing that made sense."
Her breath hitched. She felt the tension between them tighten, fragile and dangerous. "Dimitri…"
He reached up, brushed a strand of hair from her face. "You can hate me for lying to you. You would be right to. But don't ever think it was not real."
The walls around her heart cracked a little. She could see it in his eyes, the exhaustion, the fear, the raw honesty. For the first time in her life, she didn't want to run.
She touched his cheek gently. "You are an idiot."
He smiled faintly. "I have been told that before."
"Good," she said, and leaned in as their lips brushed, hesitant at first, then deepened, slow and desperate. It was gentle, it was filled with a promise. Two people who had lost too much and found something they did not think they deserved.
When they broke apart, they stayed close, breathing the same air. For a brief moment, the world outside didn't exist.
Then the sound of engines shattered the silence.
Natalia stiffened as Dimitri grabbed his rifle. "They found us."
She glanced toward the window, two black SUVs winding through the trees, headlights cutting through the mist.
"How?" she whispered.
"Artem," Dimitri said grimly. "I suspect he must have given them our route."
He slung his rifle over his good shoulder and grabbed her hand. "We need to get out of here right now."
They slipped out the back of the cabin into the trees, the snow crunching softly under their boots. Behind them, voices echoed with men barking orders, and doors slamming. The forest that had hidden them now betrayed every sound.
Natalia looked back once and saw the cabin light up in flames. Dimitri's doing with no traces left behind.
They ran until their lungs burned, until the sound of pursuit faded behind the whine of the wind. When they finally stopped, they were on a ridge overlooking the valley. Below them, a faint line of city lights shimmered, civilization, danger, salvation.
"Where are we going?" she asked between breaths.
"Moscow," he said. "It's time I stop running."
Natalia stared at him. "You are walking back into the lion's den."
He met her gaze, voice low but resolute. "Maybe, but I am not going alone."
The look they shared said everything it was filled with exhaustion, defiance, and something deeper, something that neither of them could name.
For the first time, it was not just about survival anymore.
It was personal.