Chapter 7 The Lesson

The ride back from the Romanovs' club was silent, but it wasn't the scary silence from before. It was charged. Every time the SUV hit a bump, my arm brushed against Kaelen's, and it felt like a static shock.

I looked down at the gun sitting between us on the leather seat. I had frozen when it mattered. If Kaelen hadn't walked through that door, I would be dead.

"You're thinking about the safety," Kaelen said, not looking away from the window.

"I'm thinking about how useless I am," I admitted. My voice sounded small. "I played the part of the Queen at the club, but back in that room? I couldn't even protect myself."

Kaelen turned his head. His gaze was intense. "You aren't useless, Ivy. You just aren't a killer yet. But in this house, you don't get the luxury of a learning curve."

As soon as we pulled into the garage of the estate, Kaelen didn't lead me back to my bedroom. Instead, he led me down into the basement. I expected a dungeon, but it was a state-of-the-art training gym. The walls were lined with mats, weights, and a private shooting range at the far end.

He grabbed a different gun from a locked case-a smaller, lighter one.

"The silver one was too heavy for you," he said, stepping behind me. "Try this. It's a 9mm. Less kick, easier to handle."

He didn't just hand it to me. He stood directly behind me, his chest pressed against my back. He reached around, his large hands covering mine as he helped me lift the weapon. The heat from his body was distracting. I could feel the steady beat of his heart against my shoulder blades.

"Focus, Ivy," he whispered in my ear. His breath tickled my skin, making it hard to breathe. "Line up the sights. Don't fight the gun. It's an extension of your arm, just like your cello bow."

"A cello bow doesn't take lives," I murmured.

"No. It creates them. But this?" He squeezed my hands, adjusting my grip. "This makes sure you're around to play that cello tomorrow. Now, take the shot."

I squeezed the trigger. The bang was loud, even with the ear protection he'd slid onto my head. The gun jumped in my hands, but Kaelen's grip kept me steady. The bullet hit the edge of the paper target.

"Again," he commanded.

We stayed there for an hour. By the end, my arms were aching and my ears were ringing, but I was hitting the center of the target. Every time I succeeded, I felt a strange rush of power.

Kaelen finally stepped back, letting me breathe. He took the gun from me and set it on the table. "Better. You have good instincts. You just need to trust them."

"Why are you doing all this?" I asked, wiping sweat from my forehead. "You could just lock me in a room with ten guards. Why teach me to fight?"

Kaelen walked over to a bench and sat down, leaning his elbows on his knees. He looked human for a moment-tired and vulnerable. "Because guards can be bought, Ivy. My father has more money than God. If he wants a guard to look the other way, they will. The only person you can truly trust to keep you alive is yourself. And maybe me."

"Maybe?" I walked over and sat next to him, but not too close. "You've spent fifteen years keeping me safe. I think I trust you more than 'maybe.'"

Kaelen looked at me, his eyes searching mine. "Don't. I'm a Volkov, Ivy. I've done things that would make you sick. I've spent my life being my father's shadow. If you saw the real me, you wouldn't be sitting this close."

"I saw you in the alley," I reminded him. "And I saw you last night. You saved me twice. That's the version of you I care about."

Without thinking, I reached out and touched his hand. His skin was hot, and his knuckles were still bruised from the fight with the intruder.

Kaelen didn't pull away. Instead, he turned his hand over and laced his fingers with mine. It was the first time we had touched without it being part of a "show" for someone else. It was quiet. It was real.

"I promised Silas Thorne I would protect you," Kaelen whispered, his voice cracking. "But the closer you get to me, the more I realize I'm the biggest threat to your safety. My father is looking for a reason to kill us both, Ivy. He knows I love... he knows I value you."

He stopped himself, but I heard it. The word he almost said. Love.

Before I could say anything, the heavy metal door of the gym swung open. One of Kaelen's men stood there, looking pale.

"Sir," the guard said, his voice shaking. "The Don is in the study. He's asking for the girl. He says he has the results of the 'test' he ran on the blood she left on the rug."

The air in the room turned to ice. Kaelen stood up instantly, his hand dropping mine as he reached for his jacket.

"I thought you swapped the samples," I whispered, my heart hammer-typing against my ribs.

"I did," Kaelen said, his face turning back into a mask of stone. "But my father isn't a man who falls for the same trick twice. If he knows who you are, Ivy... we don't walk out of that study."

He looked at me, his eyes full of a desperate kind of fire. "Keep the gun in your blazer. If I tell you to run, don't look back. Just go."

I nodded, my stomach doing flips. The "Silent Debt" was about to be called in, and the price was looking more like our lives every second.

I tucked the cold metal of the pistol into my waistband, the fabric of my blazer hiding the weapon that now felt like my only friend. As we walked toward the study, the hallway felt longer, the shadows stretching out like reaching claws. Kaelen reached back, his hand finding mine one last time, giving it a squeeze that felt like a goodbye. "Whatever happens in there," he murmured, his voice so low only I could hear it, "remember that you are a Thorne. You were born for the throne, not the grave." With a sharp breath, he pushed the heavy double doors open, and I stepped into the lion's den, knowing that the man sitting behind that desk held the power to end my story before the next page even turned.