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Anya

A shiver of electricity passes between our lips as he kisses me, the world blurring away until there’s only Bastien. But then a jolt of realization hits me like a freight train, and I break off the kiss abruptly.

My mind races back to family dinners, childhood memories, and my father’s stern face as he cautioned me never to reveal our true identity. He spoke of debts and enemies as if they were ghosts that haunted us, shadows that never quite went away. I never understood the gravity of those words until now.

Bastien doesn’t know who I am. He doesn’t know I’m the daughter of the man who murdered his wife and fled to Russia. A man he has sworn to bring down at any cost.

The guilt is a tidal wave, crashing over me, drowning me.

What am I doing? A storm of emotions is waging war inside me. Panic, guilt, and an overwhelming sense of impending doom flood my veins as I jump to my feet.

“Bastien, I can’t—,” I try to say, but the words catch in my throat.

I can’t finish the sentence. I