Chapter 9 - Gwen

I wake up feeling refreshed and far happier than the last few days, but I also cannot deny the strange feelings residing in the pits of my stomach, as if there’s this underlying tension humming just beneath my skin. The memories of last night linger like a fog—Roman’s rough hands gripping the motorcycle handles, the wind in my hair, the thrill that pulsed through my veins. I had needed that release more than I realized, and somehow, without knowing me at all, he knew exactly what I needed. That thought scares me.

It terrifies me, actually, how easily I could let myself fall into this, into him.

I roll over in bed, pulling the blanket to my chin as I stare at the ceiling. What if I had acted on it? What if, in the quiet moments after the ride, when we stood there under the stars, I had just let myself give in to the pull between us? I almost did. I couldn’t resist reaching out to make contact, even just barely. But then, reality crashed back in, and the weight of everything kept me in check. Still, the attraction I feel for him is undeniable, and the more I’m around him, the harder it gets to ignore.

And it frustrates me to no end.

I’m supposed to be focused on getting Riley back, and here I am, starting to feel attraction for the man who could be classified as my captor but is also my husband .

With a frustrated sigh, I force myself out of bed and head for the bathroom. Maybe a shower will help me clear my head and help me make sense of whatever the hell is going on between us. But even as the hot water hits my skin, I can only think about Roman. His quiet confidence, the way he looks at me like he’s trying to figure me out. And that protectiveness… God , it’s suffocating, but at the same time, it makes me feel something I haven’t felt in a long time.

Safe .

By the time I’m done with my shower, I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I’m not going to get any clarity on this today. Not when my thoughts are this jumbled, and definitely not when Roman is still such a mystery to me. Instead, I focus on getting ready, trying to channel this restless energy into something productive. He said he’d be back later today, and I have no idea what to expect when he does.

Hours pass, and the knot in my stomach only tightens as the afternoon drags on. I try to return to my studies, but nothing seems to do enough of a job distracting me. When the door finally opens, I feel my heart lurch in my chest, and for a moment, I’m embarrassed by how eager I am to see him. I quickly gather myself, smoothing out my shirt as I walk into the living room.

Roman stands there, looking like he always does—composed, in control. But he’s not alone. Behind him, four figures step into the apartment, and I immediately know who they are. His family. His siblings.

I’ve been living in this strange in-between with Roman for weeks, knowing bits and pieces of his life but never the full picture. But now, standing in front of his brothers and sister, it hits me just how real all of this is. Like Roman, I had imagined them to be cold, calculated—maybe even a little unapproachable. But to my surprise, they seem… normal. Ordinary , even.

Roman told me their names and a little bit about them so I could guess who was who based on the little information given to me. Victor, the oldest, is the first to catch my eye. He has a presence about him, something that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Something dangerous lurks behind his sharp eyes, and I get the distinct feeling that he enjoys making people uneasy. He’s got that same quiet, menacing energy Roman has, but there’s something darker about him. More deliberate.

Then there’s Anton, who looks more relaxed though no less intimidating. He’s the kind of guy who seems like he knows how to have a good time but could turn deadly serious in an instant. I can tell just by looking at him that he’s the type of person you don’t want to cross. But unlike Victor, there’s a warmth in his smile that throws me off.

Their sister, Anya, is a completely different story. She’s a little taller than me, with dark hair that falls in waves around her shoulders and a smile that’s so genuine that it immediately puts me at ease. There’s no hardness in her, no coldness. She looks like someone I could actually talk to, and when she approaches me, her warmth is infectious.

“You must be Gwen,” she says, her voice soft and friendly. “Roman’s told us all about you.”

Her smile is disarming, and I can’t help but return it. “Not too much, I hope.”

She laughs lightly, shaking her head. “Don’t worry. As I’m sure you’ve noticed, he's not the chatty type.”

That makes me laugh, and for a brief moment, I forget about the tension between Roman and me and the weight of everything that’s been happening. Anya’s presence is calming, and I immediately like her. She’s the kind of person who draws you in without even trying, and I find myself relaxing just by being near her.

Roman shuts the door behind them, and as they pass me, he gives me a small smile and rubs my shoulder with his thumb. His touch is almost hot and spreads heat throughout my shoulder and the rest of my arm. I ignore the feelings that threaten to surface.

Before long, we all gather in the living room, and I watch as Roman takes his place at the center of the group, his natural authority on full display. It’s strange watching him interact with his siblings. They bicker and tease each other like any other family, but there’s an unspoken understanding between them, a bond forged through something much darker than the average sibling rivalry.

As I sit on the edge of the couch, listening to them talk, I can’t help but feel a little out of place. These are people who live in a world I can barely comprehend—a world of power and violence, of control and consequences. And yet, here they are, acting like any other family would. It’s disorienting.

Anya nudges me with her elbow, giving me a conspiratorial wink. “Don’t let Victor scare you. He’s just got a mean face. He likes to keep people on their toes.”

I glance at Victor, who’s deep in conversation with Anton, and raise an eyebrow. “Yeah, I figured that out pretty quickly.”

Anya grins, leaning back in her seat. “He’s all bark, no bite. Well, most of the time.”

Despite myself, I laugh again. Anya has a way of making everything seem lighter and easier. I can already tell we’ll get along, maybe even like sisters.

But the light atmosphere doesn’t last long. Eventually, the conversation shifts, and I can feel the tension creeping back into the room. Victor straightens, his expression hardening as he looks at his siblings.

“Luther reached out to us this afternoon,” he announces, his voice calm but serious. He wants to meet. He says he’s had time to think about our proposition and would like to have a few words about it.”

My heart skips a beat at the mention of the Vultures, and I sit up a little straighter, my pulse quickening.

This is it. The moment I’ve been waiting for—a chance to finally do something, to take action and find Riley. But as Victor continued explaining the details of the meeting, I noticed something that made my stomach drop.

They’re not planning on taking me with them.

“We’ll meet tomorrow night,” Roman says, glancing at Victor. “Somewhere neutral. They want to negotiate.”

“What do they want?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

Roman meets my gaze, his expression softening just a fraction. “We don’t know yet. But the fact that they want to talk is a good sign. It means they’re not looking to kill anyone. At least, not yet.”

I nod, trying to process everything, but my mind is racing. I need to be there. I need to see what’s going on and know I’m doing everything possible to help Riley.

“I want to go,” I say suddenly, my voice firm.

Roman’s head snaps toward me, followed by the rest of his siblings, his eyes narrowing. “Absolutely not.”

Roman’s sharp refusal cuts through the room, and I feel every set of eyes on me as silence falls. His protectiveness is showing again, but this time, it ignites something in me—a flicker of defiance. I sit up straighter, refusing to back down.

“You don’t get to decide that,” I say, keeping my voice steady. “Riley is my best friend. I have just as much at stake here as you do.”

Roman’s jaw clenches, his green eyes flashing with anger and frustration. I can see the battle inside him—his instinct to protect me clashes with his understanding of how important this is to me. But he doesn’t budge.

“This isn’t a game, Gwen. You have no idea what could happen at that meeting,” he growls, his voice low and dangerous. “The Vultures aren’t like anyone you’ve dealt with before. They’re brutal, ruthless, and if they get even a whiff of weakness, they’ll exploit it.”

His words hang in the air, a warning that hits a little too close to home. I know he’s right—this isn’t some movie where the heroine walks into danger and comes out unscathed. But I’m not willing to sit on the sidelines, not when Riley’s life is at risk.

“I can handle it,” I say firmly, squaring my shoulders. “I know what’s at stake. And I’m not asking for your permission, Roman. I’m telling you—I’m going.”

He stands from the couch and steps closer, his eyes locked on mine, and the tension between us is electric. His protectiveness is suffocating, but beneath that, I can see something else—something deeper. It’s almost relative to… fear. As if he’s actually scared of what could happen to me. And maybe… maybe he’s scared of losing control?

“Gwen,” he says, his voice quieter now, more pleading than demanding. “No.”

For a moment, I waver. His concern for me is so palpable that it makes my heart twist in my chest. But I can’t let that stop me. I can’t let him wrap me up in cotton wool and pretend that everything will be okay if I just stay out of it.

“I’m going,” I repeat softly but with finality. My eyes soften, threatening to water. “Please. I need to be there.”

The silence that follows is suffocating. Roman stares at me, his expression unreadable, and I can feel the weight of his siblings’ eyes on us. This is the first time I’ve really pushed back against him and stood my ground in a way that challenges his authority. And for a moment, I wonder if I’ve pushed too far.

But then, slowly, Roman’s shoulders slump just the tiniest bit, and he lets out a breath through his nose. I can see the conflict still raging behind his eyes, but when he speaks again, his voice is resigned.

“Fine,” he mutters. “But you’re sticking as close to us as possible. You won’t be alone, not even for a second.”

A small victory, but I’ll take it.

He turns to his siblings, and I notice the way Victor’s lips curl into a smirk. Anton raises an eyebrow, clearly surprised that Roman gave in, but he says nothing. On the other hand, Anya gives me an encouraging smile as if to say, “Well done.”

“We’ll be careful,” Victor continues, his eyes remaining on me suspiciously for a second before he returns to addressing his family. “We’ll scout the location first, make sure there are no surprises.”

Anya crosses her arms over her chest. “You really think this guy is legit?”

Roman’s gaze sharpens. “I don’t know. But if he’s not, we’ll deal with it.”

The room falls into a tense quiet as the conversation shifts back to logistics, but I barely hear any of it. My mind is racing, my pulse still pounding from the confrontation. Roman’s agreement feels like a small step forward, but I can sense the storm brewing beneath his calm exterior. He doesn’t want me anywhere near this meeting, and part of me understands why. But I can’t let fear control me—not now.

After a while, the conversation starts to wind down. Roman dismisses his siblings, and they begin to make their way out of the apartment, with Anton throwing me a playful wink on his way out.

“You’re braver than most,” he says quietly as he passes me. “Good luck with him.”

I’m unsure if he means Roman or the Vultures, but I nod anyway, feeling a strange camaraderie with Roman’s brother.

As the door closes behind them, the apartment falls into an uneasy silence. Roman turns toward me, his expression unreadable. The tension from earlier still lingers between us, thick and heavy, and for a moment, neither of us says anything.

Then, Roman sighs, running a hand through his hair as he crosses the room toward me. He stops a few feet away, his eyes locked on mine.

“You shouldn’t have pushed me like that,” he says quietly, but there’s no anger in his voice now—just a weary kind of acceptance.

I take a deep breath, trying to ignore the way my heart skips a beat at how close he is. “I had to. You can’t shut me out of this, Roman. I need to be involved.”

He studies me for a long moment, and I wonder what’s going through his head. Finally, he nods, though there’s still a flicker of frustration in his eyes.

“You’re stubborn,” he mutters, a hint of amusement tugging at the corner of his lips. It brings me a sense of ease, a peek at his humor.

“You’re one to talk,” I retorted, crossing my arms, matching the bits of his playfulness.

His face softens for the first time in what feels like forever, and a small, almost imperceptible smile breaks through his usual hard exterior. It’s a fleeting moment, but it’s enough to send a strange warmth spreading through my chest.

“Just… promise me you’ll follow my lead tomorrow,” he says after a beat, his voice low and serious again. “No unnecessary risks. If things go south, we’re getting out of there.”

I nod, feeling the gravity of his words settle over me. “I promise.”

It’s not the answer he wants, but it’s enough to satisfy him. He turns away, heading toward the door, but before he leaves, he pauses and glances back at me, his eyes searching mine for something I’m not sure I’m ready to give. His lips parted, and for a second, the man who I learned to be so sure of himself hesitated for what I could imagine the first time in his life. Then, he cleared his throat to shake away what he intended to say.

“Get some rest,” he says quietly. “Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”

And with that, he’s gone, leaving me alone with my racing thoughts and the weight of everything to come.

As I sank back onto the couch, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Tomorrow is the moment of truth—the moment where everything could change. But for the first time in a long time, I feel ready. Ready to face whatever comes, to fight for Riley.

And maybe… just maybe, to face the feelings that are growing between Roman and me, the feelings that, no matter how hard I try, I can’t deny any longer.

Chapter 10 - Roman

The day after the family gathering, I found myself unable to stop questioning my decision. Letting Gwen come along to the meeting with the Vultures? I must be losing my mind. Never in my life have I ever been this lenient. Whenever I wanted something, I got it. If I wanted to make a decision, I made it. But somehow, Gwen has found a way to march past my walls and get under my skin, making me always want to say yes to her, even when every instinct of mine screams no. If it weren’t for the growing concern for her safety—something that has turned into an obsession—I might even find it amusing.

But I have realized that Gwen isn’t someone you can leash. Not that I would even want to if I could. Something about her wild, untamed spirit lights a fire in me. She’s fearless, relentless, and if I’m completely honest with myself… I like it—a lot.

The thought sparks an idea in my mind. If she’s going to insist on putting herself in risky situations, then she damn well needs to be prepared. Without overthinking it, I grab my phone and shoot her a text:

Get ready. Sporty clothes. We’re going out.

Gwen doesn’t hesitate. Within fifteen minutes, she’s hopping down the stairs in leggings and a tank top that hugs her slender, toned figure so well I’m tempted to abandon my idea entirely and take her back upstairs. I resist, however, greeting her with a smile before taking her out in my grey McLaren 720S.

Soon, we arrive at the shooting range. Gwen glances around, curious, but says nothing, seemingly waiting for my explanation. I watch her closely as we walk in, admiring the contrast between the nurse-in-training I’ve come to know and the fierce woman standing beside me now, ready for whatever I throw her way.

“I’m going to teach you how to shoot,” I say, keeping my voice casual with my eyes locked on hers. “You need to be able to handle yourself, especially in the situation we’re heading into. And since you’re my wife now”—I can’t help but smirk at the word—“I won’t let anything happen to you. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t know how to protect yourself.”

Her eyes light up with excitement, and I feel a rush of heat surge through me. God, this woman surprises me at every turn. She’s supposed to be the studious, organized type—always reading her textbooks, always focused on her career. But here she is, eager as hell to learn how to fire a weapon.

I dig it. I dig her .

I nod to one of the staff members as I lead her down the hallway and into the indoor range, where targets are lined up at the end of the room, and spots to shoot divided by metal caging sit in front of us. I called the place shortly before we left, paying the owner a delicious amount so that he’d clear the range and set up different weapons for us to try. In front of us lay several weapons separated by the dividers, starting with a pistol and ending with a sniper rifle.

I walk forward towards the pistol first, a .45, and dive into explaining the basics of the gun, showing her how to handle it, stand, and stay focused. As expected, Gwen absorbs everything like a sponge. I can’t deny that her laser focus turns me on in ways I hadn’t anticipated. The way she listens, the way she moves, the way she looks at me with those sharp, determined eyes… It’s electric. I can’t get enough of it.

“Here,” I say as she picks up the weapon and looks at it, moving behind her. I rest both of my hands on her waist and guide her so that she is standing directly in line with me. I’m close to her—closer than necessary, maybe—but I can’t resist.

“Hold it like… this.” I reach forward and lightly lay both of my palms atop the back of her hands, guiding her tiny fingers with my larger ones to reposition them on the firearm. I’m focused, but I’m so close to her now.

A fire ignites in the pit of my stomach, a tiny flame that begins to grow in size as I take another step forward. My body is pressed up against hers now. I feel her body tense under my touch, her breathing growing shallow, and it evokes a reaction in me that begins to grow the bulge in my pants.

“How is that?” Gwen breathes. I can’t see her face right now, but God, I wish I could.

“Perfect,” I reply, my breath hot against her ear as I lean so my face grazes the back of her head. I can smell her strawberry shampoo and bits of the rosy perfume she uses to match it.

I can feel the tension building between us, thick and palpable. I reposition my hands, sliding them over her arms to correct her stance as she readies to shoot. I hear her breath hitch once I slide my hands back to rest on her waist.

“Is that good?” She asks.

“Yes,” I respond softly. “You’re doing so good already.” The air seemed to crackle with the unspoken thoughts that had been simmering between us for days now. I take a step back, noticing the way her body shudders as I part. And if that, in combination with her slightly ragged breathing, is anything to go by…

I’d bet good money she was getting just as turned on as I was.

The thought is super arousing, and I have to focus to keep myself in check. “You’re good to shoot whenever,” I tell her.

She fires off a few rounds, her shots improving with each one. When she hits the center of the target, Gwen lets out a small triumphant laugh, spinning around to face me, her face lit with excitement.

I smile, but before he can even process what’s happening, she steps forward and pecks me on the lips. I catch her in my arms as she does so, and then she quickly pulls back, looking at me with surprise as if she couldn’t comprehend what she just did. My hands instinctively grab her hips. Her body is pressed against mine, and then—just like that—I collide my lips into hers.

It’s like a spark ignites between us. The kiss is hot and intense, as if she’s been waiting for this for far too long, just as I have. My hands are too eager to slide up her back and tangle in her hair as I deepen the kiss. I can tell she’s eager, too. I can taste it.

Gwen moans against my lips, and my body responds instantly. Heat floods through me and makes me ache in all the right places. Our lips move in sync. Her scent surrounds me, driving me wild. She presses closer, her fingers digging into my shoulders, and I feel the tension snap—the dam breaking after weeks of holding back.

But then, as I feel her finger dance towards taking off my shirt, just as things are about to go further, I pull back, panting slightly, my forehead resting against hers. I’m on the edge, but this isn’t where I want it to happen, as hot as it sounds.

“Not here, Moya Lyubimaya ,” I rasp in a voice thick with desire. “The first time I get to explore your body, it’s not going to be in a damn shooting range.”

Her breathing is ragged, her cheeks flushed, and for a second, I wonder if she’ll protest. But then she smirks—an almost wicked grin—and nods.

“Take me home, then,” she whispers, her voice low and sultry, sending a thrill down my spine.

My pulse quickens. The way she talks to me makes me want to change my mind and bend her over the table right here, right now. Maybe even use the pistol for extra fun. The anticipation causes me to tighten my hands around her waist for a moment before I pull away and grab the keys. We leave the range in a hurry, and as soon as we’re in the car, Gwen’s hands are everywhere.

It takes every ounce of my willpower to keep my eyes on the road as she trails her fingers down my thigh, her touch teasing and relentless. Her breath is hot against my neck when she leans over, and I’m convinced she’s trying to drive me crazy. Who knew that the stubborn, studious woman could be so naughty?

“Gwen,” I growl, gripping the steering wheel tighter as her hand slides dangerously close to the large bulge in my pants. “You’re going to make us crash.”

She giggles, but it’s a breathless, sexy sound that sends a fresh wave of desire straight to my core. I glance at her out of the corner of my eye, my control slipping by the second.

Lucky for us, I’m a damn good driver. But I know all bets are off when we pull into the garage and the engine shuts off.