Chapter 14 - The Retreat
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The morning sun cast long, cold shadows across the cabin floor.
When Aliyah woke, the bed beside her was empty. The lingering warmth on the sheets was the only proof that the night hadn't been a dream. She sat up, pulling the thick robe around her shoulders, and walked out into the living room.
Victor was standing by the window, talking in hushed, aggressive Russian on a satellite phone. When he heard her approach, he abruptly ended the call.
The tender, passionate man from the night before was gone. The ice had returned to his eyes, thicker and more impenetrable than ever.
"Get dressed," Victor ordered coldly, not looking at her. "Silas is bringing a car. He is taking you back to your apartment in Boston."
Aliyah froze, the words hitting her like a physical blow to the chest. "What? Why?"
"The hit last night was orchestrated by Romanov," Victor stated, his voice flat and robotic. "He knows you are my vulnerability. He knows that if he targets you, I will make mistakes. I cannot afford mistakes, Aliyah. A war is starting."
"So you're just sending me away?" she asked, her voice cracking. "After last night?"
Victor finally turned to look at her. The agony behind his stoic mask was profound, but he brutally suppressed it. "Last night was a mistake. I let my guard down. I allowed myself to believe I could have a normal life. I was wrong."
"You are a coward," Aliyah spat, angry tears welling in her eyes. "You aren't protecting me from Romanov. You're protecting yourself from feeling anything!"
"If you stay with me, you will die," Victor roared, slamming his fist against the wooden wall, the sudden violence making her flinch. "I watched the woman I love burn in a car once. I will not watch it happen again. You are leaving, Aliyah. And you will never look back."
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He walked out the front door, leaving her alone in the cabin.
An hour later, Silas drove her back to the city in complete silence. She was dropped off at her cramped apartment with a heavy bank account and a shattered heart. The mafia boss had cured his fear of touch, only to realize he was terrified of love.
