Chapter 12 - The Safehouse
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The getaway was a blur of adrenaline and flashing sirens. Victor didn't take them back to the estate. He knew the compound would be compromised. Instead, Silas drove them deep into the Berkshire mountains, arriving at a hidden, fortified cabin just as the sun began to rise.
The cabin was silent, smelling of pine and old dust.
Aliyah stood in the center of the rustic bathroom, staring at her reflection. Her emerald dress was torn and ruined, her face pale, and her arms were covered in dried, flaky blood. She was shaking violently, the shock finally catching up to her.
The bathroom door creaked open. Victor stepped inside. He had discarded his ruined tuxedo jacket.
He didn't speak. He turned on the faucet, letting the warm water run. He took a clean washcloth, applied soap, and gently took her trembling hands.
"You saved his life," Victor murmured, carefully wiping the blood from her skin. "The paramedics said Mikhail would have died in sixty seconds if you hadn't pinched the artery."
"He called me a liability," Aliyah whispered, a hysterical, exhausted tear escaping her eye.
"He was wrong," Victor said fiercely, moving the warm cloth up her arm. "You are the strongest person I have ever met."
The intimacy of the moment was overwhelming. Twelve years ago, Victor couldn't even look at blood without spiraling into a panic attack. Now, he was washing it from her skin with the tenderness of a devoted lover.
When her hands were clean, Victor dropped the washcloth into the sink. He reached to the back of her ruined dress, finding the zipper.
"May I?" he asked, his voice thick with raw emotion.
Aliyah nodded, unable to speak.
He unzipped the dress, letting the ruined silk fall to the floor. She stood before him in simple black lingerie, completely vulnerable. Victor didn't look at her with lust; he looked at her with pure, unadulterated reverence.
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He grabbed a heavy, plush bathrobe from the door and wrapped it around her shivering shoulders. He pulled her close, burying his face in her neck, inhaling her scent as if she were the only oxygen left in the world.
For the first time in his life, Victor Malenkov completely surrendered.
