Updated Apr 20, 2026 • ~15 min read
Chapter 10: I’m in Love with You
Riot
The encrypted call from Marcus comes three weeks into their Montana isolation, and Riot knows from the first word that everything’s about to change.
“We have a problem,” Marcus says without preamble, his voice crackling slightly over the satellite connection. “Viktor’s got people actively searching for Nadia. Paid informants, surveillance teams, the works. He’s casting a wide net, and it’s only a matter of time before someone connects the dots and traces her here.”
Riot’s stomach drops, his grip tightening on the phone as he glances toward the bedroom where Nadia’s still sleeping, blissfully unaware that their temporary sanctuary is about to implode. “How long do we have?”
“Hard to say. Could be days, could be weeks. But Riot—hiding isn’t a permanent solution.” Marcus pauses, and Riot can hear the weight of what’s coming. “We need to start planning an endgame. Either we take the offensive and draw Viktor out in a controlled situation, or we keep her hidden indefinitely and hope he makes a mistake big enough that we can take him down without exposing her.”
“Keep her hidden,” Riot says immediately, already knowing it’s a losing argument but trying anyway because the alternative is putting Nadia directly in Viktor’s crosshairs. “We wait him out, let the FBI build their case with the evidence she already provided—”
“The evidence isn’t enough without her testimony, and you know it,” Marcus interrupts, his voice firm and no-nonsense. “Viktor’s lawyers are already dismantling the money laundering charges. Without Nadia’s direct testimony about what she witnessed twelve years ago and her firsthand knowledge of his operation, he walks. And the moment he’s free, he comes after her with everything he has.”
“She’s safe here,” Riot argues, but it sounds weak even to his own ears. “Three weeks, no incidents, no—”
“Three weeks of borrowed time,” Marcus says flatly. “And you know it. Look, I get it. You’ve been playing house, gotten comfortable, maybe gotten closer than you should have.” There’s knowing disapproval in his voice that makes Riot tense. “But this isn’t about what you want or what’s comfortable. It’s about neutralizing the threat permanently. And that means we need to start planning how to end this—really end this—instead of just delaying the inevitable.”
“It’s her choice,” Riot says, because whatever else is true, he’s not going to make this decision for her. “I’ll tell her what’s happening, give her the options, and let her decide.”
“Will you?” Marcus’s voice carries skepticism. “Or will you push her toward staying hidden because that’s what keeps her close to you?”
“I’m not—” Riot stops, takes a breath, forces himself to be honest. “I want her safe. That’s all that matters.”
“Is it?” Marcus doesn’t wait for an answer. “Just think about what you’re going to tell her, Riot. And make sure it’s actually about her safety and not about you being scared to let her go.”
The call ends before Riot can formulate a response, and he’s left standing in the quiet cabin with his chest tight and the terrible knowledge that Marcus is right—part of him wants to keep Nadia hidden not because it’s safest, but because the moment Viktor’s neutralized, she won’t need him anymore.
And the idea of losing her feels catastrophic in ways that have nothing to do with professional failure.
“Who was that?” Nadia asks from the bedroom doorway, and Riot turns to find her sleep-rumpled and wearing his shirt and looking so much like everything he wants that his chest physically aches.
“Marcus,” he says, deciding to rip the bandaid off quickly rather than drag it out. “Viktor’s got teams actively searching for you. Informants, surveillance, everything. It’s only a matter of time before they find this location.”
He watches emotions cycle across her face—shock, fear, something that might be resignation, then determination that makes his stomach sink because he knows that look.
“Then we end this,” Nadia says, her voice steady despite the fear he can see in her eyes. “We stop hiding and we take him down. Properly. Before he finds us on his terms.”
“Nadia—”
“Don’t.” She holds up a hand, stopping his protest before it fully forms. “Don’t try to talk me out of this. I’ve been hiding for three weeks—hell, I’ve been hiding for twelve years if we’re being honest. And I’m done. Viktor doesn’t get to control my life anymore just because I’m too afraid to face him.”
“It’s not about fear,” Riot says, crossing to her because he needs her to understand the stakes. “It’s about risk. We go on the offensive, you’re exposed. You become the bait to draw him out, and every second you’re visible, you’re a target.”
“Then I’ll be a target with you protecting me,” Nadia says, and there’s trust in her voice that simultaneously warms him and terrifies him. “You’ve kept me alive this long. I’m betting you can keep me alive long enough to end Viktor permanently.”
“And if I can’t?” The question comes out harsher than intended, driven by fear he can’t quite contain. “If something goes wrong, if Viktor’s people get through—”
“Then at least I’ll have tried instead of hiding forever.” She steps closer, reaches for his hands. “Riot, I can’t live like this. Running, hiding, waiting for the next attack. I want my life back. I want to go back to my company, my apartment, my actual existence instead of this limbo. And the only way to do that is to take Viktor down permanently.”
She’s right—logically, strategically, she’s absolutely right that they can’t hide forever.
But logic doesn’t stop Riot from wanting to lock her in the cabin and refuse to let her anywhere near Viktor’s reach.
“I won’t hide forever,” Nadia says quietly, reading his resistance in his expression. “And you can’t make me.”
“I know.” Riot pulls her close, holds her tight enough that he can feel her heartbeat against his chest. “I know you won’t. And I know this is probably the right call, tactically speaking. But Nadia, you have to understand—if something happens to you, if I fail to protect you—”
“You won’t fail.” She says it with such certainty, such absolute trust, that Riot wants to believe her even though he knows better than anyone that protection isn’t a guarantee.
“I might,” he says honestly, needing her to understand what she’s risking. “Viktor’s smart, well-connected, motivated. He’s had twelve years to plan his revenge. And going on the offensive means making yourself visible, which gives him opportunities to strike.”
“Then we’ll just have to make sure he doesn’t get those opportunities.” Nadia pulls back just far enough to look at him, and there’s steel in her expression that reminds Riot exactly why she survived witness protection and built an empire from nothing. “I’m doing this. With your help or without it. So are you with me, or do I need to find another way?”
And there it is—the ultimatum Riot knew was coming but hoped to avoid.
He could refuse, could tell her he won’t help her make herself a target, could put his foot down and insist she stay hidden.
But doing that means losing her anyway, because Nadia’s not the kind of woman who tolerates being controlled, and trying to make decisions for her is the fastest way to destroy whatever trust they’ve built.
“I’m with you,” Riot says, even though every instinct he has is screaming that this is dangerous. “But we do it my way. Full planning, proper backup, controlled circumstances where I can actually protect you. Understood?”
“Understood,” Nadia agrees, and then she’s kissing him like she’s trying to memorize the taste of him, and Riot kisses back because if these are their last peaceful moments before everything goes to hell, he wants to make them count.
They end up in bed—of course they do, because sex has become their default language for things too complicated to say out loud—and Riot loses himself in the feeling of her, the sounds she makes, the way she clings to him like he’s an anchor in a storm.
But afterward, when she’s asleep in his arms and he’s lying awake running through tactical scenarios and contingency plans, the fear settles in his chest like lead.
Because protecting Nadia in a controlled environment like the Montana cabin is one thing.
Protecting her when she’s deliberately making herself visible to draw out a man who’s spent twelve years wanting her dead is something else entirely.
And if Riot fails, if something gets through his defenses—
He can’t finish the thought, can’t let himself imagine a world where Nadia doesn’t make it through this, because going there means admitting that the risk might not be worth the reward.
But she’s right that hiding isn’t sustainable, right that Viktor will find her eventually, right that the only way to truly end this is to take him down permanently.
So Riot holds her while she sleeps and makes himself a promise: he’ll keep her safe while they plan this operation, he’ll protect her when they execute it, and he’ll make sure Viktor never gets another chance to hurt her.
And if he has to die to make that happen, if sacrificing himself is what it takes to ensure Nadia survives—
Well.
He’s been protecting her with his life from the beginning.
This is just making it official.
🔥
The fight comes later, after Nadia wakes up and starts making plans to go back to Seattle immediately, and Riot has to explain that “proper planning” means waiting for Marcus to arrange resources and surveillance and tactical support.
“We’re wasting time,” Nadia argues, pacing the cabin with the kind of restless energy that suggests she’s already mentally back in Seattle. “Every hour we wait is an hour Viktor could find us.”
“Every hour we wait is an hour Marcus uses to make sure we’re not walking into an ambush,” Riot counters from his position by the window, where he’s checking perimeter sensors for the dozenth time. “We move when it’s safe, not when it’s convenient.”
“It’s never going to be completely safe. We both know that.”
“No, but it can be safer than leaving right now with no backup and no plan.” He turns to face her, frustrated and scared and trying very hard not to let either emotion control him. “Nadia, I know you want this over. I know you’re ready to go home. But rushing into a situation we haven’t properly assessed is how people die. And I won’t let that be you.”
“You won’t LET me?” Her voice goes dangerously quiet. “I’m not asking your permission, Riot. I’m telling you I’m ready to leave.”
“And I’m telling you we’re waiting until Marcus gives the all-clear.” He says it with finality, the voice he uses when giving orders to subordinates, and immediately recognizes his mistake when Nadia’s expression goes from frustrated to furious.
“I’m not one of your soldiers,” she says coldly. “You don’t give me orders.”
“When it comes to your safety, yeah, I do. That’s literally my job.”
“Your job is to protect me, not control me. There’s a difference.” She’s in his space now, angry and beautiful and completely unwilling to back down. “I’m going back to Seattle to end Viktor. With or without you. So you can either help me do it safely, or you can get out of my way.”
They’re standing toe-to-toe, both furious, both scared underneath the anger, and Riot knows he should de-escalate but he’s too worried about losing her to back down.
“If you walk out that door without proper security, you’ll be dead before you make it to the airport,” he says bluntly. “Is that what you want? To throw away three weeks of hiding because you’re too stubborn to wait twelve hours for backup?”
“What I want is to stop being treated like I’m helpless!” Nadia shouts, and there are tears in her eyes now, frustration and fear mixing. “I survived twelve years in witness protection. I built a company from nothing. I watched my parents die and didn’t break. I’m not some fragile thing that needs constant protecting—I’m a survivor. And I’m choosing to survive by ending this instead of hiding forever!”
“Then survive smart instead of reckless!” Riot’s voice rises to match hers. “I’m not questioning your strength, Nadia. I’m trying to keep you alive long enough to use it!”
“By making all my decisions for me? By telling me when I can leave and where I can go and whether I’m allowed to take risks with my own life?”
“Yes!” The admission explodes out of him. “Because the alternative is watching you die, and that’s not something I can do! So yeah, I’m going to make decisions that keep you breathing even if you hate me for it, because your survival matters more than your approval!”
Nadia stares at him, breathing hard, and for a moment Riot thinks she’s going to scream at him or hit him or storm out despite his warnings.
Instead she says, quiet and devastated: “This isn’t about tactics. This is about you being scared to let me go.”
And that hits like a killshot, accurate and painful and impossible to defend against because she’s right.
“Of course I’m scared,” Riot admits roughly. “I’m terrified. Because I—” He stops himself before the confession can fully form, but it’s too late, she heard the thing he didn’t say.
“Because you what?” Nadia’s voice is very small. “Riot, finish that sentence.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he says, stepping back because proximity is making this harder. “What matters is keeping you safe. Everything else is—”
“Finish the sentence.” She follows him, won’t let him retreat. “You’re scared because you what?”
“Because I’m in love with you!” The words tear out of him, loud and jagged and completely inappropriate given the situation, and Riot watches Nadia’s face go through a dozen emotions before settling on something that looks like panic. “I know we agreed no feelings, I know this was supposed to be temporary, I know you set boundaries specifically to prevent this—but I fell anyway, and now the thought of losing you makes me want to burn the world down to keep you safe. So yes, I’m scared. Yes, I’m trying to control the situation. Because letting you walk into danger when I love you this much feels impossible.”
The silence after his confession is deafening.
Nadia just stands there, staring at him like he spoke in a language she doesn’t understand, and Riot knows he just destroyed whatever fragile thing they built by admitting the one thing she explicitly told him not to feel.
“I should go,” Nadia finally says, backing toward the bedroom. “I need—I need some space.”
She disappears before Riot can respond, and he’s left standing in the middle of the cabin with his heart hammering and the terrible certainty that he just ruined everything.
🔥
She comes back two hours later, eyes red like maybe she was crying, and Riot’s still sitting on the couch where she left him, trying to figure out how to unfuck the situation.
“I’m sorry,” he says before she can speak. “That wasn’t fair. You set boundaries, I agreed to them, and I shouldn’t have—”
“I’m scared too,” Nadia interrupts quietly. “I’m terrified. Of Viktor, of going back, of losing you, of letting you close enough to hurt me. And I know I’ve been using our arrangement to avoid dealing with any of that. But Riot—I can’t love you back. Not the way you want. I’m too broken for that.”
“You’re not broken,” Riot says automatically, but she shakes her head.
“I am. And that’s okay. But it means I can’t give you what you’re asking for.” She sits next to him, careful not to touch. “So we need to figure out what happens next. Can you still protect me if I can’t love you back? Or does this ruin everything?”
Riot considers lying, considers telling her he can compartmentalize and keep protecting her professionally despite his inappropriate feelings.
But she asked for honesty, so that’s what he gives her: “It doesn’t ruin everything. But it changes things. I’ll still protect you—that’s not negotiable. But Nadia, I can’t go back to pretending this is casual. So when Viktor’s neutralized and you don’t need me anymore—I think we both need a clean break.”
Something flashes across her face—hurt, maybe, or regret—but she nods. “Okay. Clean break when this is over. But until then—”
“Until then, I’m yours,” Riot says. “For whatever you need. Protection, backup, someone to hold you when you’re scared. All of it.”
“Even sex?” She asks it carefully, like she’s not sure if his confession changed those terms.
“Especially sex,” Riot confirms, pulling her close despite knowing it’s probably a terrible idea. “If you want it.”
“I do,” Nadia whispers against his chest. “I know I shouldn’t. I know it’s selfish to keep taking what you’re offering when I can’t give you what you really want. But I’m not ready to lose you yet.”
“Then don’t,” Riot says, and kisses her like maybe he can make her understand through touch what he can’t make her accept with words.
They have sex on the couch, urgent and desperate and tinged with the awareness that this is temporary, that soon they’ll go back to Seattle and end Viktor and Nadia won’t need him anymore.
But for now, she’s his.
And Riot takes what he can get, even knowing it’ll destroy him when she lets him go.
Reader Reactions