When the past walked in

CHAPTER 6 — Into the Lion’s Arms

The terrace door slammed open so hard it rattled against the wall.

Mikhail didn’t feel the cold night air. He didn’t feel the music vibrating through the floor. He didn’t feel the people staring as he strode through the club like a storm given human shape.

He only felt the weight of Lila’s unconscious body in his arms.

Her head rested against his chest, her red hair spilling over his coat like fire against midnight. Her skin was too pale. Her breathing too shallow. Her fingers curled weakly into the fabric of his shirt, as if her body still fought to stay awake.

He barked orders at his men without slowing.

“Clear the exit. Now.”

Viktor was already moving, shoving people aside with a cold efficiency that made the crowd scatter. His voice cut through the noise like a blade.

“Move. Out of the way.”

Behind him, Maya burst onto the terrace, panic twisting her features when she saw the empty space where Lila had been.

“Lila? LILA!” Her voice cracked. “Where—where is she?!”

Viktor intercepted her before she could run blindly into the club.

“Come with me,” he said, firm but not unkind.

“Let me go!” Maya shoved at him, wild‑eyed. “Where is she? What happened? What did you do to her?!”

Viktor didn’t flinch. “She’s safe. But you need to stay with me.”

“Safe? SAFE? I can’t find her—”

“She’s with him.”

Maya froze. “With who?”

Viktor didn’t answer. He simply guided her through the crowd, keeping her close, shielding her from the chaos.

Mikhail reached the back exit, pushing through the door with his shoulder. The alley outside was dim, quiet, a sharp contrast to the noise behind them.

He lowered his head, studying Lila’s face.

Her lashes fluttered weakly. Her lips parted in a faint, broken breath. Her body trembled once, then went limp again.

A muscle in his jaw ticked.

Someone had touched her. Drugged her. Tried to take her.

Not again.

The words she whispered before collapsing echoed in his skull like a gunshot.

Not again.

His grip tightened around her.

He didn’t know what had happened to her before. He didn’t know who had hurt her. But he knew one thing with absolute, bone‑deep certainty:

It would never happen again.

Not while she was in his arms.

Not while he was breathing.

Viktor appeared at his side, Maya trailing behind him, shaking, breathless, terrified.

When she saw Lila in Mikhail’s arms, her knees nearly buckled.

“Oh my God—Lila—what—what happened to her?!” Maya reached for her, hands trembling. “Please, give her to me—she needs—she needs—”

“She needs a doctor,” Viktor said quietly.

“She needs to be safe,” Mikhail corrected, voice low, dangerous.

Maya’s eyes snapped to him. “Who are you?!”

Mikhail didn’t answer. He didn’t look away from Lila.

Her head rested against his shoulder, her breath warm against his neck, her body soft and helpless in his hold.

He had imagined finding her again a thousand times. Not like this. Never like this.

“Boss,” Viktor murmured, “the car is ready.”

Mikhail nodded once.

He shifted Lila gently in his arms, as if she were something fragile, something precious, something he had no right to touch but couldn’t let go of.

Then he spoke — not to Viktor, not to Maya, but to the night itself.

“She’s not leaving my sight.”

And with that, he carried her into the darkness.