Sebastian’s POV

Sebastian stood motionless, staring at Elijah’s lifeless body. The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood, but it wasn’t the stench of death that unsettled him—it was the grief in Valarie’s eyes.

She knelt beside Elijah, her hands trembling as she held his face, willing him to wake up. But he wouldn’t. He never would.

Something heavy settled in Sebastian’s chest. He wasn’t the kind of man who felt sympathy. He had watched countless men die, some by his own hands, and never once had he cared. But this? This was different.

Elijah had died protecting her.

The one thing Sebastian swore to do himself.

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly, trying to push away the foreign feeling creeping into his mind. He hated this—hated the way his heart clenched at the sight of Valarie breaking apart, hated the way he felt something almost close to respect for the dead man at his feet.

Elijah had seen through him. Had made him promise.

And now, he was gone.

Sebastian’s eyes flickered to Valarie just as her body swayed. Her lips parted as if to say something, but before she could, her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed.

He moved on instinct, catching her before she hit the cold ground.

“Damn it, Valarie.” His voice was low, frustrated, but his grip was gentle as he cradled her against his chest.

She was exhausted. Broken. The weight of everything had finally crashed down on her, and her body had given in to it.

Sebastian held her tighter, then turned to his men, his voice sharp, commanding. “Get the body to the hospital. Make sure it’s handled with care.”

His second-in-command, Nikolai, hesitated for a moment before nodding. “And her?” He glanced at Valarie’s unconscious form in Sebastian’s arms.

Sebastian’s jaw clenched. He already knew what would happen if he left her with the authorities. The grief, the guilt, the reckless anger—she would throw herself into war without a second thought.

And he wasn’t about to let that happen.

“She’s coming with me.” His voice left no room for argument.

Without another word, he carried her out of the bloodstained room, stepping over bodies and shattered remnants of what was supposed to be Mikhail’s victory.

As he walked through the carnage, he looked down at her—her face pale, her breathing slow but steady. His Valarie.

He had never been a man to believe in fate. But if fate had truly played a hand in this, then it had made one thing clear:

She belonged to him now.

***** Sebastian carried Valarie through the grand entrance of his estate, his grip on her firm yet careful. The moment he stepped inside, the vast hall fell into complete silence. His men—hardened killers, ruthless and disciplined—stared in shock, their gazes flickering between him and the unconscious woman in his arms.

No one had ever seen their leader like this.

Sebastian was a man feared for his merciless nature, for the blood that stained his hands without hesitation. He never carried anyone. Never touched anyone unless it was to break them.

And yet, here he was, holding Valarie Ivanov—an officer, his supposed enemy—with a look that was anything but indifferent.

He felt their stares, their silent questions, but he didn’t acknowledge them. His cold, piercing gaze swept over his men, a silent warning.

Speak, and you die.

Nikolai, his second-in-command, was the only one who dared to move forward. He hesitated before speaking. “Boss… should I call for a doctor?”

Sebastian barely spared him a glance. “Already handled.”

Valarie shifted slightly in his arms, her forehead pressing against his chest. He tightened his grip instinctively.

“She stays here,” he said, voice low but final.

Nikolai's brows furrowed, confusion flickering in his sharp eyes. “You’re keeping her?”

Sebastian turned to him, his expression dark, dangerous. “Do you have a problem with that?”

Nikolai quickly lowered his gaze. “No, boss.”

Sebastian didn’t wait for further discussion. He moved swiftly, heading toward his private chambers, his men parting like the Red Sea as he passed. He could hear the murmurs the moment he disappeared up the grand staircase.

“The hell just happened?” “He’s never brought a woman here before.” “Isn’t she a cop?” “Doesn’t matter. She’s his now.”

Sebastian smirked to himself at that last comment.

Yes. She was his now.

****** Sebastian sat in his room thinking. The weight of Valarie’s unconscious form in his arms still lingered, the warmth of her body a stark contrast to the ice that usually settled in his veins.

She needed her family. No matter how much he wanted to keep her here, keep her locked away where no one else could touch her, he knew.

Her grief wasn’t something he could take away—not yet.

He exhaled slowly, tilting his head back as he reached for his phone. His fingers hovered over a contact he hadn’t dialed in years.

Damien Volkov.

The name alone was enough to stir something sharp in his chest. A past better left buried. A friendship that had turned to war.

And now, after all these years, he was about to make the call he never thought he would.

With a cold, unreadable expression, he pressed the dial button and brought the phone to his ear.

It rang once. Twice.

Then, a deep, familiar voice answered—low, lethal, filled with unspoken tension.

"Vasiliev."

Sebastian smirked despite himself. "Volkov."

There was a beat of silence, thick and heavy, before Damien spoke again. "You must be out of your mind to call me."

"Maybe," Sebastian mused, leaning back in his chair. "But this isn’t about you or me."

"Then what?" Damien’s voice was clipped, suspicious.

Sebastian’s fingers tightened around the phone. "Valarie is at my estate."

Silence.

Cold. Dangerous.

Sebastian could almost hear the way Damien’s jaw clenched, the way his mind worked, calculating whether this was some kind of trap.

"Explain. Now."

"She was captured by Mikhail. Almost killed," Sebastian said flatly. "Elijah didn’t make it."

Another silence, this one heavier.

Then, Damien exhaled sharply. "Fuck."

"She needs her family," Sebastian continued, voice dropping lower. "You. Luca. I’m calling because I know she’s going to need you both when she wakes up."

Damien didn’t respond immediately, but Sebastian knew he had already made his decision.

"We’re coming."

Sebastian smirked. "Good. And Volkov—"

"What?"

"You and I will be having a conversation soon."

Damien scoffed, his voice laced with dark amusement. "Looking forward to it."

The call ended.

Sebastian set the phone down and leaned back, closing his eyes briefly.

For the first time in years, he and Damien Volkov were about to be under the same roof again.

And for some reason, he found himself looking forward to it.

*****