Page 99 of Break Me Open
Niko exhales slowly through his nose, like he’s lining something up in his head. When he speaks again, it’s not gentle. “You’ve got a little time left,” he says. “Not a lot, but some, depending on how things shift. After that? He goes. And odds are you don’t see him again. It’s not like you can leaveand visit the UK. You know exactly what that looks like. You leave Russia without a good reason, and that’s it — you’re deserting. You can never come back.”
I already knew that, obviously. Hearing it said out loud still feels like a gut punch. “So,” Niko goes on, “you have two choices. You spend that time pretending it didn’t happen. Lock it down. Be professional. Be empty.” He tilts his head at me. “You’re very good at that.” I don’t argue. “Or,” he says, “you use the time.”
“For what?” I ask.
“For whatever you need to live with after.”
“He’s leaving,” I say. “Not going to a different unit. Not rotating back in three months. He’s gone.”
“Yes.”
“And I still have to be here.”
“Yes.” Niko’s voice doesn’t soften, but it steadies. “Which means this isn’t about keeping him. It’s about not hollowing yourself out pretending he didn’t matter.”
“If I let myself have it, really have it, it’s going to kill me,” I say, scrubbing another hand over my face.
Niko shakes his head once. “No. Losing him is going to hurt no matter what.” He meets my eyes. “The only thing you get to choose is whether you make it worth it.”
I think about the way he looks at me, like he sees something other than a weapon wearing skin. The way he said“I love you too”back. Like it was simple. “And when it’s over?” I ask.
“Then you come back to being who you were,” he says. “Just with at least one thing you don’t regret.”
I nod slowly. There’s no fixing this. No avoiding it. No clean ending waiting for me if I behave correctly.
But there is time.
And I’m not wasting it pretending I don’t love him.
Thirty-Seven
Caiden
They come back just before lunch. Ari walks in first, and Niko follows a few steps behind him; his eyes red-rimmed and shining, the exhaustion clinging to him.
There’s something different about Ari. It wouldn’t be visible if you didn’t know him, but I see it a mile off. His movements are slower, and his face is tight with restraint.
Our eyes meet across the room; he doesn’t smile, smirk, or do anything that would draw attention. He tilts his head toward the corridor, and I don’t hesitate. I mumble something to the person sitting next to me and push away from the table. Ari peels off from Niko smoothly, as if it were planned, and follows a moment later.
We make it to the stairwell before he grabs me. His hand catches my arm and pulls me back into him, chest to chest, and the door swings shut behind us with a quiet click.
“Hi,” I say stupidly. Ari exhales something that might be a laugh and kisses me. It’s soft and unrushed. His mouth presses to mine like he’s checking that something is still here, and I kiss him back, my hands coming up automatically, fingers sliding up his back, feeling the solidness of him.
When he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine. “He’s okay,” he says.
“Yeah?” I ask quietly.
Ari nods. “He’s small,” he adds, like that’s the most important detail in the world. “Angry. Loud.”
I smile. “Zakirov, then.”
That gets me a real smile. It’s brief, crooked, and exhausted. “Absolutely.” We stand there for a second. I can feel the pull of time again, but it’s not like before. Ari shifts first, his hands dropping reluctantly from my sides. “I can’t stay,” he says.
“I know.”
“We’ll—” He stops himself. “Later. After lights out.”
I nod. “Motor pool?”
