Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 86242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
For a split second, before the chaos of the world outside intrudes again, Ruthie touches my arm—just a soft, fleeting contact, a silent reminder that in this madness, there is still something between us. Her fingers brush against my skin, and I catch her eyes—quiet, unspoken words hanging in the air.
It’s a brief, precious moment where the world is on pause. A moment where we’re not soldiers or leaders or anything but two people trying to hold on to whatever scraps of peace we can before everything crumbles again.
I can feel the warmth of her hand, the tenderness, and for just that brief instant, it’s enough. This—us—is enough.
I don’t waste any more time and move into the role I’ve trained myself to assume. The leader. The protector. Ruthie follows me with her eyes, her readiness clear in the way she subtly shifts her weight, preparing for what’s next.
For a moment, we don’t say anything. But that silence speaks volumes. It’s a shared understanding between us.
It’s time to go.
Ruthie’s steps are purposeful, though softened by her injury. She’s determined. I can see it in the set of her jaw, the way she holds herself. But in her eyes, there’s something else—something fragile that we don’t talk about, something that won’t make it past this moment of quiet.
I glance at her one last time before we step into the unknown. Her expression is soft yet fierce, a balance of vulnerability and strength. It reminds me, for a fleeting moment, why I fight.
The mission calls, but this—this moment—will carry us through whatever comes next.
“We have to go,” I whisper. “Come with me? Come with us, Ruthie.” The question feels symbolic.
Her eyes are sharp but trusting when she nods. “Always.”
Chapter 20
RUTHIE
Tension’s rising, and while the rest of the guys I’ve known in the Kopolov family would be on edge, Vadka is steady. Calm. Determined and alert, but a rock.
And I would follow this man to the ends of the earth, I would.
“I have a bag already packed for you and Luka,” he says. “Front hall closet. Are you good to get them?”
Of course he does.
The pain in my ankle has subsided enough by now. It’s still there, but I know we have to move.
I nod, pushing through the lingering ache as I head for the closet. There’s no time for hesitation, no room for weakness.
I can hear Vadka behind me, always present, always watching, ready for whatever comes next.
I find the bags in the closet right away—two duffel bags, one stuffed with folded clothes and toiletries, the other a few toys and various items that would occupy a little boy. I grab them from the closet, their weight solid in my hand, and turn to find him watching me, his expression unreadable, but his eyes soft. His gaze drops to Luka, still asleep, now nestled in his arms, the quiet, fragile peace a stark contrast to the world we’re thrust into.
“You’re doing good,” Vadka says quietly, his voice low enough that only I can hear. I lean my head on his shoulder and look down at the sweet boy asleep in his arms. If I loved Vadka before now, watching him hold his son against his chest, looking down at him with unfettered love and affection, makes me love him even more.
I manage a faint smile, but inside, my heart feels like it’s slamming against my chest. There’s so much uncertainty ahead. So much that could go wrong. But I can’t afford to let any of that show, not now, not in front of Luka.
I take a breath, steadying myself. “Let’s go.”
We move quickly, silently. Vadka’s presence at my back is like a shield, his steady footsteps matching mine as we head toward the car. Luka stirs in his sleep but doesn’t wake. The quiet rhythm of his breathing is a small comfort, a reminder of why we’re doing all this. For him.
For our little family.
Our family.
By the time we arrive at the Kopolov estate, everything has shifted. The air is thick with the weight of what’s to come, but there’s a hushed reverence in the house as everyone gathers. The atmosphere is heavy with unspoken tension, but also something else—preparedness. This is what they’ve been waiting for, what they trained for.
After settling little Luka in bed, Vadka moves through the house with ease, a quiet authority about him as he greets everyone, checking in and making sure everything is in place. I can see the respect in the eyes of the men here. They trust him. They know he’s the calm in the storm.
“Luka is having a hard time settling down,” Vadka says in a low voice to me. “He woke up a little.”
“Poor little guy. Let me bring him something to drink.”
I move to the kitchen and prepare a warm cup of milk for him. It’s a small act, but one that brings a little bit of peace in the midst of all the chaos, and it makes me feel good to mother him. As I hand him the cup, his sleepy eyes flutter open, and for a moment, it’s just us—no guns, no violence, just him and me.