Chapter 6 - Whispers in the Dark
The night before the operation felt endless.
I lay awake in the massive bed, staring at the grand plaster ceiling, listening to the muffled sounds of tactical preparations in the courtyard below.
At 2:00 a.m., my door opened softly.
I sat up instantly, pulling the silk duvet to my chest.
Roman stepped into the room. He was fully dressed in a tailored black suit, his dark tie loosened slightly at his throat, a sleek shoulder holster fitted over his crisp white shirt.
"Did I wake you?" he asked quietly, closing the door behind him.
"I wasn't sleeping," I replied, my voice raspy in the dark.
He walked over to the side of the bed, sitting down on the edge of the mattress. The heavy leather of his holster creaked softly in the quiet room. In the pale moonlight, his jaw looked carved from granite, but his eyes were filled with an uncharacteristic, quiet hesitation.
"You don't have to come to the hotel tomorrow, Nora," Roman said, looking down at his hands. "Frank can take you to a safe house in Connecticut until it's over."
"You want me to wait in a cabin while you walk into an ambush?" I asked, leaning forward.
"It's not an ambush. It's a purge," Roman corrected coldly. "Julian has hired twelve external mercenaries from the West Coast. There will be blood, Nora. Real blood. Not like the alleyway."
I reached out, wrapping my hand around his forearm, feeling the rock-hard muscle beneath his suit sleeve.
"You need someone inside the hotel who doesn't look like a hitman," I said firmly. "I know the staff layout. I know where the security cameras have blind spots in the main ballroom."
Roman looked at my hand on his arm, then looked up into my eyes. "If anything happens to you—"
"Nothing is going to happen to me," I interrupted softly. "Because you're going to be right behind me."
Roman let out a low, shaky breath. He lifted his hand and cupped the back of my neck, pulling me forward until our foreheads rested against each other in the dim light.
"Why are you doing this for me, Nora?" he whispered, his thumb caressing my cheekbone. "I dragged you out of your life. I ruined your apartment. I forced you into a war."
"You didn't force me," I whispered back, my heart beating frantically against my ribs as I looked into his dark, tortured eyes. "My life was a slow death before you knocked on my door, Roman. I was drowning in my father's debts, working sixteen hours a day just to survive."
I brushed my lips softly against his jaw.
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"You gave me a reason to fight," I murmured. "Now let me help you win."
Roman groaned, a deep, guttural sound, and pulled me into his arms, kissing me with a fierce, desperate passion that consumed the quiet night. We lay together under the heavy duvet until the pale light of dawn crept through the blinds, holding each other like two survivors clinging to a life raft in the middle of a storm.
