Chapter 6: Irina

The silence between us stretches as I finish tying off the bandage on Alexei's side. I keep my movements methodical, but I'm still thinking about the argument we had earlier. The air is thick with the remnants of tension, but there's also something else I can't quite put my finger on. Maybe it's the way he's been looking at me.

Finally, I step back, wiping my hands on a clean rag.

"That should hold for now," I say, my voice steady but a bit detached. I don't want him to see how much this affects me.

He doesn't move immediately, just watches me with those intense eyes of his, a small, almost teasing smile playing on his lips. "You know, for someone who claims not to care, you're pretty good at this whole taking-care-of-people thing."

I roll my eyes, but there's no real heat behind it. "I just don't want to be dragging your half-dead body out of a firefight later on. It's self-preservation."

He chuckles, wincing slightly as the movement pulls at his wound. "Sure, Irina. Whatever helps you sleep at night."

Before I can respond, my phone buzzes on the table, breaking the moment. I reach for it, my heart skipping a beat when I see the name on the screen. It's Katya

Sergei will be at the Gold Leaf Ball tomorrow. 8 PM. 3456 Ridgeway Ave.

"What is it?" Alexei asks, sitting up a little straighter.

"It's from an informant," I reply, my eyes scanning the message again to make sure I read it right. "Sergei's going to be at the Gold Leaf Ball tomorrow. It's a high-end event, starts at 8 PM."

He takes a moment to process that, then meets my gaze. "Do you trust this informant?"

I hesitate, not because I doubt the information, but because I know what he's really asking. Trust is a luxury we can't afford, but this informant has come through for me before. Still, the possibility of a trap lingers in the back of my mind.

"Yes," I say finally, but I don't miss the flicker of doubt in his eyes. "But that doesn't mean we shouldn't be cautious."

Alexei nods, his expression thoughtful. "What if it's a setup? Sergei's no fool. He might expect us to make a move if we catch wind of where he's going to be."

"It's a risk we have to take," I reply. "But we won't go in blind. We'll prepare for every possibility."

He considers that then gives me a small, appreciative nod. "Alright. Let's see what we're dealing with."

I grab my laptop from the table and open it, quickly typing in the address to bring up a map of the area. The Gold Leaf Ball is being held at an exclusive venue, a sprawling mansion that caters to the city's elite. From the satellite view, I can see the extensive grounds, the carefully manicured lawns, and the high walls surrounding the property.

"Looks like they've got top-notch security," Alexei observes, leaning over my shoulder to get a better look at the screen. "Cameras, guards, probably a guest list a mile long."

"That's not all," I add, zooming in on the surrounding streets. "The neighborhood is crawling with police, and there's only one main entrance. If things go south, getting out is going to be a challenge."

He lets out a low whistle, impressed despite himself. "This place is a fortress. But we can work with that."

I glance at him, surprised by his confidence. "You've got a plan?"

"Always," he says with that trademark grin, but there's a seriousness behind it that tells me he's already thinking three steps ahead. "But first, we need eyes inside. You think you can hack into their CCTV system?"

I raise an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at my lips. "You're asking if I can hack into a state-of-the-art security system?"

"Well, can you?"

"Watch and learn, Romanov," I say, turning back to my laptop and pulling up the necessary software.

It doesn't take long for me to find a way into the system—these high-end places think they're invincible, but there's always a crack if you know where to look.

Within minutes, I'm in, and the mansion's security feeds pop up on my screen. I quickly toggle through the cameras, taking in the layout of the rooms, the placement of the guards, the exits, and the entry points.

"Impressive," Alexei murmurs, leaning closer to get a better look at the screens. "Didn't know you had that in your bag of tricks."

I can't help the smug smile that spreads across my face. "There's a lot you don't know about me."

He's close, too close. I can feel the heat from his body and smell the faint scent of his cologne. My mind flashes back to the words we threw at each other. The fight still seems to be lingering in the air between us, like a storm hovering on the horizon. Despite everything, he's here, and so am I.

For a moment, I catch myself wondering why I'm letting him in like this. It's dangerous to care, dangerous to trust. But with Alexei, things have always been complicated.

"Alright." I shift my focus back to the screen, pushing those thoughts aside. "Here's what we're dealing with. The ballroom is on the second floor, here." I point to the screen, where a wide room filled with glittering chandeliers and a sea of elegantly dressed guests comes into view. "There's one main staircase leading up, with guards posted at both the top and bottom. It's a choke point, which means if anything goes wrong, we're going to have a hard time getting out."

Alexei nods, his eyes narrowing as he studies the screen. "We'll need a distraction, something to draw the guards away from the staircase long enough for us to slip out. What about the fire alarms?"

I shake my head. "Too risky. If we set those off, the entire place will go into lockdown, and we'll be trapped inside."

"Right," he says, his brow furrowing in thought. "What about the service staff? We could blend in with them, get close to Sergei without raising suspicion."

"It's possible," I agree, toggling to another camera feed that shows the service area. "But we'll need uniforms and IDs to pull it off. Plus, we'll have to be careful—Sergei knows our faces. If he spots us, it's game over."

"Then we stay in the shadows," Alexei suggests. "We get in, gather the intel, and get out before anyone knows we were there."

I nod, the plan taking shape in my mind. "We'll need to move fast. Once we're inside, we'll split up—one of us keeps an eye on Sergei while the other monitors the exits and makes sure we have a clear path out."

"I'll keep an eye on Sergei," Alexei says, his tone leaving no room for argument. "You're better with the tech—you can monitor the exits and cover our tracks."

I glance at him, reading the determination in his eyes. He's right; it's a logical division of labor. But something about the idea of splitting up makes me uneasy. If things go wrong, we won't be able to cover each other.

"Irina!" He continues, "If anything feels off, we abort. No heroics, no unnecessary risks."

"Fine," I mumble.

"But you know, Irina, for someone who's all about being serious, you're not half bad at this."

I roll my eyes. "Just try not to get shot this time, okay?"

"No promises."

We spend the next hour refining the plan, going over every detail until we know it by heart. The more we talk, the more I realize how well we work together. How our skills complement each other, how we can anticipate each other's moves. It's a strange feeling, this newfound trust, but it's also . . . comforting.

Finally, as the clock ticks closer to midnight, we reach the point where there's nothing left to discuss. The plan is as solid as it's going to get, and now, all we can do is wait.

He looks at me, his expression unreadable, but there's a warmth in his eyes that wasn't there before. "You know, you keep surprising me, Irina."

I raise an eyebrow, my lips quirking into a half-smile. "Is that a compliment?"

"Maybe," he replies, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Or maybe I'm just impressed that you haven't killed me yet."

"Don't tempt me," I shoot back, but there's no bite in my words. In fact, there's something almost playful, a spark that wasn't there before.

"You look like you could use some rest yourself. I'll take the first watch."

I'm about to argue, but the look in his eyes tells me he won't take no for an answer. And the truth is, I am exhausted. The stress of the past few days has been weighing heavily on me, and I haven't had a decent night's sleep in what feels like forever.

"Alright," I finally concede, rubbing my temples. "But wake me up if anything happens. We can't afford to let our guard down."

"You got it," he says, his tone gentle. "Now go get some sleep, Irina. I'll keep watch."

I hesitate for a moment, looking at him one last time before turning to leave. "Thanks, Alexei."

"Anytime," he replies with a small smile. "Goodnight, Irina."

I nod and make my way to the bedroom, but sleep doesn't come easily. After tossing and turning for what feels like hours, I finally give up and get out of bed.

The house is quiet as I step into the hallway; the only sound is the soft creaking of the floorboards under my feet. I head towards the living room, where I find Alexei standing by the window, his silhouette illuminated by the pale moonlight filtering through the glass.

He's shirtless, his back to me, and the sight of him in the soft light makes my breath catch. My eyes trace the strong lines of his shoulders, the way the muscles in his back ripple with every subtle movement. I know I should turn away, keep my distance, but I can't.

Fuck, I want to touch him.

The thought is so sudden, so overwhelming, that it makes my breath hitch. My hand twitches at my side, and I have to curl my fingers into a fist to keep from reaching out. The urge to close the distance between us, to feel the heat of his skin under my palm, is almost unbearable.

Before I can force myself to leave, he turns slightly, catching sight of me out of the corner of his eye. His expression softens when he sees me, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe.

"Can't sleep?"

I nod, swallowing hard. "Yeah, something like that."

"Come here," he says, his tone gentle but commanding.

I hesitate, but the pull is too strong. I take a few steps forward, closing the distance between us, until I'm standing right beside him. The air between us crackles with tension, and I'm acutely aware of the heat radiating from his body. He shifts slightly, making room for me at the window, and I'm so close to him that I can feel the warmth of his skin against my arm.

The moonlight streams through the window, casting everything in a silvery glow. It's peaceful, almost serene, but with the way my heart is pounding, it feels anything but.

"When I can't sleep," he says quietly, his gaze fixed on the stars outside, "I like to watch the sky. Helps me clear my head."

I snort, the sound harsh in the quiet room. "Didn't take you for the stargazing type."

He chuckles softly. "I was expecting you'd say that."

We fall into a comfortable silence, just watching the stars together. The night is quiet, the world outside the window still and calm, but all I can think about is how close we're standing. I can feel every breath he takes, every slight shift in his posture, and it's driving me insane. I want to touch him, to feel his skin under my fingertips, to see if he's as warm and solid as he looks. The need is so intense that it's almost painful.

"You've never really told me," he says suddenly, breaking the silence. "Why are you after Sergei?"

His question catches me off guard, and I stiffen slightly. I've spent so long keeping my past buried, locked away where no one can reach it, that I'm not sure how to respond.

I shrug, trying to play it off, but I know he's not going to let it go that easily.

"It doesn't matter," I say, my voice flat, dismissive. But even to my own ears, the words sound hollow.

"It does," he insists, turning to look at me. There's something in his eyes, something soft and understanding, that makes me want to spill everything right there, to lay bare all the pain and anger that's been festering inside me for so long. "I want to know."

This isn't something I talk about, not with anyone. But its weight has been crushing me for so long, and for some reason, tonight, it feels heavier than ever. Maybe it's the stillness of the night, the way the world seems to hold its breath around us, or maybe it's just that I'm just tired.

"My dad was in the military, and he was working on some undercover operations," I say before I can second guess myself. There's no harm in talking, right? "He never brought his work home. The night it followed him home brought us to an end . . .. Some armed men came to our house, demanding some documents they believed my father had. When he refused, they killed my parents right in front of me. My brother, Ivan . . . they took him. I haven't seen him since.

"I need to find Sergei because I need to know what happened to Ivan. If he's still alive . . . I need answers."

The words come out more easily than I expected, and once they're out, I feel a strange sense of relief, like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I've been carrying this burden for so long, it feels almost surreal to share it with someone else.

Alexei doesn't say anything for a moment, just reaches out and takes my hand, his thumb brushing gently over my skin. The touch is soothing, comforting, and I lean into it, letting myself take comfort in the warmth of his hand.

"Sergei will get what's coming to him," he says quietly. "We'll make sure of it."

The air between us shifts, becoming charged with something electric, something that's been simmering beneath the surface since our first meeting. Our eyes lock, and for a moment, the rest of the world fades away. It's just us, standing there in the moonlight, our bodies so close I can feel the heat radiating off him.

I don't know who moves first, but suddenly, I'm leaning in, my hand tightening around his, and before I can second-guess myself, my lips are on his. The kiss is soft at first, hesitant, like we're both testing the waters. But then his hand comes up to cup the back of my neck, and the kiss deepens, becoming something more intense, more desperate.

I feel like I'm drowning in him, in the heat of his body, the taste of his lips, the way his hand grips me like he never wants to let go. I want more—more of his touch, more of him. The need is so overwhelming that it makes me dizzy, makes my head spin with desire.

I press closer to him, my free hand coming up to rest on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat under my palm. His skin is warm, smooth, and I can't help the way my fingers curl into him, pulling him closer, needing to feel more of him.

Fuck, I need him.