was waking her up or interrupting those sweet dreams. There was something so primal in knowing that he was the only person who could really do this for her, or rather … the only person she allowed to do it.
She would be weak with him, but he saw it as a strength. She could be delicate with him in ways that no one else ever got to see, and he wanted to let her. She was his, and he found being hers was the easiest thing he’d ever done next to breathing.
It was terrifying, too. It had been a long while since Pav felt something akin to actual fear. It felt like they’d taken that ability from him, in a way. Or maybe they’d simply beaten the instinct out of him. Nonetheless, he felt it with her. A fear so visceral and raw, it felt real. An actual monster living under the bed.
A fear that, at any time, this thing he’d found with her could be taken away. Or she could leave, if she wanted. It wasn’t that he chose to ignore it, but rather, it just wasn’t as important as the rest of what he felt.
It was worth the risk, because it seemed he was the gambling type of man, anyway. Not that he’d been one of those before, but he was more than willing to be one now if it meant he was with her. If he got to keep her for a while, then that would make whatever came after far more than just worth it to him.
That was trust.
Love.
Right?
If this feeling in his chest that constantly felt like it was wrapping around his heart to squeeze it to death wasn’t love, then what was? If the deep, thrumming need to keep this woman close and safe and with him always wasn’t love, then what was it?
He didn’t mind it.
Pav was close to sleep, too, knowing Viktoria was already there and safe in dreams where she didn’t need him to scare the darkness away. He was just beginning to drift into his own slumber when a noise had his eyes flying wide open as he tensed on the bed. It wasn’t something … bad. A normal sound, usually.
A car engine revving.
All normal, considering the loft was situated in the art district of Chicago, a massive urban center. Noise was common. It was everywhere. And yet, something about that sound was quick to drag him away from the sleep he craved.
He listened for more sounds—the walls of the loft were thin, which was why he knew Grisha brought in extra heaters during the colder months to keep anyone who was living there for a time warm while they needed it.
A horn honked.
Then, another.
Although he wanted to stay right where he was with Viktoria in the bed, Pav rolled over slowly as to not wake her up, as he reached for the jeans he’d discarded to the floor earlier. His jacket with his knives were all the way across the room, thrown over the back of a wooden rocking chair.
He never even got the chance to get to his jacket. He only managed to get his pants yanked up around his waist when the noise got a hell of a lot louder. First it was boots against wood—kicking the front door of the loft in, and then beating against hardwood floors as someone, many, someones stormed the loft. Their shouts came next.
Pav was stuck between turning to calm Viktoria as she woke up in a sleepy daze, and darting across the room to where his jacket and knives were waiting for him. He had one arm reaching out for her, and another going for his jacket when the screams started.
The people using the loft as a temporary safe haven were woken from their beds as their bedroom doors were kicked open—a baby cried, and a slightly older child called out for their mother.
“Pav?”
“Don’t move,” he told Viktoria.
He darted for his jacket, but he didn’t get to it in nearly enough time. He’d just grabbed the leather to yank it off the back of the chair when the door to their room was kicked open, too. He didn’t recognize the masked men who stormed the bedroom, but one must have known who they were when they found them inside.
“Found ‘em,” one of them growled.
Pav slipped a hand into the pocket of the jacket, his fingers slipping around the cool, firm handle of a knife but it was too late. The