Lev
“Mr. Bodyguard.”
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I found her exactly where I knew she’d be—where the music was loudest, where the lights were brightest, and where trouble was thick in the air.
The brat had slipped past three guards and a steel gate just to drown herself in cheap vodka and fake friends. And there she was, swaying in the middle of the club, lips locked with some boy who smelled like cologne samples and desperation.
My jaw tightened.
I pushed through the crowd. The boy didn’t even see me until my shadow fell over them. He tried to puff his chest, square up, but one look into my eyes and he wilted like a flower in winter. I pried her off him, and she laughed, sloppy and unbothered, her lipstick smeared.
Lev,she slurred, dragging my name out like a taunt.
You’re no fun.I didn’t answer. Talking was wasted on her when she was like this. I just swung her over my shoulder like she weighed nothing, her fists beating weakly against my back. The crowd parted quick enough. No one wanted to test the big Russian with the scar down his face. She kicked her heels, cursed in English, in Italian, a few words she’d picked up just to spite her father. Me? I walked steady through it all. I’d carried men heavier than her out of burning streets. Compared to that, this was nothing.
You know,she mumbled against my back,
one day I won’t need you. One day, I’ll run so far you can’t drag me home.I tightened my grip on her legs.
Then you better hope I never find you,I said. Because I would. Every damn time.