Chapter 3 - The Ambush in the Rain
Over the next three months, my life settled into a bizarre, adrenaline-fueled rhythm. Niko was a man of his word. I attended my law classes at Columbia University, flanked by two massive men in tailored suits who carried concealed weapons and politely carried my textbooks.
The public believed we were a whirlwind romance, a political alliance forged in passion. But behind the closed doors of the penthouse, something entirely different was blooming.
Niko never pushed. He never demanded the physical rights of a husband. Instead, we spent our evenings in his expansive library. I would brief cases for my constitutional law classes, and he would review ledgers and supply chains, occasionally asking for my legal opinion on money laundering loopholes.
I was falling in love with him. It was terrifying, irrational, and absolutely undeniable. I fell in love with the way he listened to me, the way his ruthless exterior melted the second I walked into a room, and the way he made me feel like the most powerful woman in New York.
It happened on a Tuesday in late November.
A torrential downpour had turned Manhattan into a gray, blur of traffic and umbrellas. I was leaving the law library late, my two guards walking a few paces behind me as we headed toward the waiting armored SUV.
Suddenly, a black panel van screeched to a halt, blocking the street. The side door slid open.
My guards drew their weapons instantly, but they were outgunned. Automatic gunfire shattered the evening air. One of my guards went down, clutching his shoulder. The other shoved me violently behind a marble pillar just as the windows of the law building shattered into a million pieces.
"Target acquired! Grab the girl!" a man shouted in thick Russian.
I pressed my hands over my ears, curling into a ball against the freezing marble, my heart hammering against my ribs. The Volkovs had finally made their move.
Footsteps splashed heavily in the puddles, closing in on my position. I closed my eyes, preparing for the violent hands to grab me.
Instead, I heard the deafening roar of a modified engine. A matte-black Mercedes G-Wagon jumped the curb, smashing directly into the Russian van.
The doors flew open, and Niko stepped out into the pouring rain.
He wasn't wearing his usual tailored suit. He wore a black tactical vest over a dark sweater, holding an assault rifle with the terrifying, fluid grace of a man who had been bred for war. He didn't shout. He didn't hesitate. He simply raised the weapon and unleashed hell.
The shootout lasted less than sixty seconds. When the gunfire ceased, the street was eerily silent, save for the rain pounding against the pavement.
"Clara!"
I looked up. Niko was running toward me, dropping his weapon. His face was pale, his eyes wide with a frantic, desperate terror I had never seen before. He slid to his knees on the wet concrete, grabbing my face in his large, warm hands.
"Are you hit? Clara, look at me, are you bleeding?" he demanded, his thumbs frantically sweeping over my cheeks.
"I'm okay," I sobbed, throwing my arms around his neck. "I'm okay. You came."
"Always," he breathed, burying his face in my neck, holding me so tightly my ribs ached. "I will always come for you."
As he pulled back to help me up, I saw the dark red stain spreading across the left side of his dark sweater. "Niko, you're bleeding."
"It's a graze," he grunted, masking the pain. He scooped me up into his arms, carrying me toward the G-Wagon while his surviving men secured the perimeter.
That night, back in the fortified safety of the penthouse, the adrenaline finally crashed. I sat on the edge of the bathroom counter, my hands shaking as I carefully stitched the shallow bullet graze on his shoulder using a medical kit. He refused to go to a hospital.
Niko sat shirtless before me, his eyes never leaving my face. When I snipped the final surgical thread, a single tear slipped down my cheek and landed on his bare chest.
"Hey," Niko whispered, catching my chin and tilting my face up. "I'm fine. You're safe."
"I thought I was going to lose you," I confessed, my voice breaking. "I don't care about the rules anymore, Niko. I don't want to sleep in separate rooms. I don't want to be just your protection assignment."
Niko's dark eyes darkened further, a raw, consuming hunger flaring in their depths. "Clara, do not say things you don't mean. If I take you tonight, I am never letting you go. You will be mine until the day I die."
May you like
"I already am," I answered.
He didn't need another word. Niko pulled me against his chest, his mouth capturing mine in a kiss that was desperate, bruising, and tasted like rain and salvation. He carried me into his bedroom, and for the first time in my life, I surrendered completely. There was no fear, no hesitation. Only the fierce, undeniable certainty that I was exactly where I belonged.
