Nikolai pov
When he ended the call, Viktor spoke again. "You've made a choice now, boss."
Nikolai didn't deny it. "I know."
"Once you step in to protect her," Viktor continued, "she becomes part of your world. Whether she wants it or not."
"I know," Nikolai repeated, softer this time. His hand rested on the desk, fingers drumming once, twice, before going still.
But what choice do I have? he thought. She called me.
In his world, that was as much a bond as a signed contract.
He turned back to the window, the rain smearing the city lights into streaks of silver and gold. Somewhere out there, in a small rented room, Amara sat frightened but brave enough to reach for help.
She had no idea who he really was.
No idea what it meant to have the Petrov name behind her.
And worse: no idea how easily his world could swallow hers.
A quiet knock at the door broke his thoughts. Another of his men stepped inside, face tight with unease.
"Boss, there's more," he said. "We caught word that Morozov's crew isn't just watching her. They're asking questions."
Nikolai's gaze sharpened. "What kind of questions?"
"About who she is. Where she came from. Why you noticed her."
A thin thread of anger tightened through his chest, cold and deliberate. "Find out who gave that order," he said. "And make sure they understand: she's not to be touched."
The man nodded and left.
Viktor watched him, silent. Finally, he spoke, almost gently. "You can still walk away, Nikolai."
But Nikolai's eyes stayed on the rain-slicked glass, his reflection fractured among the droplets.
"No," he murmured. "It's too late."
In the silence that followed, only the city answered — restless, unkind, and alive with secrets.
Amara pov
The city had quieted outside my window, but inside my chest, my heartbeat refused to settle.
All day, I'd felt the weight of unseen eyes: the man in the hoodie, the stranger at the corner who seemed too still, the flicker of movement I couldn't quite catch in my reflection on shop windows. Maybe it was paranoia. Or maybe it was finally time to admit: someone really was watching me.
I sat on the edge of my narrow bed, turning Nikolai's card over and over in my hand. His voice from the call echoed in my head:
"Stay inside tonight. Lock your windows."
So I did. I checked the latch twice. Then three times.
Still, it didn't feel like enough.
A gust of wind rattled the thin glass, making me jump. My breath fogged in the cool air. I wrapped my aunt's old scarf tighter around my shoulders, but it didn't chase away the shiver running down my spine.
In the hallway outside, an old pipe groaned like something alive. The building was full of noises, but tonight, every sound felt different. Sharper. Closer.
I tried to distract myself — scrolled my phone, read half a page of an old book, stared at the cheap curtain drifting in the draft. But the feeling of being watched clung to me, heavy as wet cloth.
Then I heard it.
Footsteps. Slow. Deliberate. Moving down the hallway toward my door.
They stopped. Silence thickened, pressing against my ribs.
I held my breath so tight my chest burned.
Something slid under the door. Paper. The scratch of it on old linoleum made my skin crawl.
I forced myself to move, every muscle tight with fear. My hand trembled as I picked it up.
It was a note, scrawled in harsh black ink:
"Stay away from him, or next time we won't just watch."
My mouth went dry.
They know.
They know about Nikolai.
I backed away from the door, pulse hammering so hard I could barely hear my own thoughts.
Should I call him again? What if this only makes it worse? But what if I don't — and something worse happens?
Before I could decide, I heard it: the softest knock on the door. Not the wind. Not the pipes. A knock.
My breath caught. My hand tightened around my phone.
Another knock. Firmer this time.
I swallowed hard, throat dry as ash.
Then, from the other side of the door, a voice low, familiar, and steady as night:
"Amara. It's me."
Nikolai
I stood frozen, torn between relief and fear.
Because even as part of me wanted to run into that voice, another part whispered: If he's here, the danger must be closer than I ever imagined.
And outside, the city kept breathing dark, restless, and alive with secrets.