“Nyet.” He had to swallow down the Russian. “No. There are scores of them up there. They will strike in waves. They could well hit the same areas multiple times if they’re following the river. Please.” He wove their fingers together, anchoring her there beside him. “Do not ask me to put you in danger. I cannot.”

The way she met his gaze and held it made the crowd around them seem like nothing but a distant roar. At last, she nodded. “All right. To the shelter.”

He couldn’t exactly be relieved, not given the rumble of engines overhead. But he was grateful. For the first time since that terrible day when he’d found Alyona on his doorstep, his soul whispered a prayer of gratitude rather than just a plea.

The crowd moved with remarkable order out of the building and into the street. Sirens wailed, people shouted, but it wasn’t nearly as chaotic as Zivon had expected. Not like the mobs at home when the soviets had stormed their way to power. This was entirely different. Even so, he held Lily close to his side as the wedding guests merged into the street with theatergoers from nearby, all aimed at the same tube station. A few times he pulled her this way or that to avoid a run-in with another well-dressed Londoner but not as often as he would have expected.

Within a few minutes, they had hurried down the steps, where most people shuffled about looking for a bench, as if they’d all done this before. Not surprising, he supposed, since London had been facing air raids since the war began. It was not something he had encountered in Russia. And, frankly, not something he had been anxious to experience here.

“Here. Sit.” He led her farther down than the masses had gone, to where a bench still sat empty, though given the numbers surging in behind him, it wouldn’t stay that way for long.

Surprisingly, she obeyed. Her eyes looked a bit dazed again, distant. Zivon crouched down before her and held both her hands between his. “Lily. It will be all right.”

As if to belie his promise, a boom sounded from somewhere in the distance. Just close enough to hear it, to feel the slightest tremor beneath them. Another followed on its heels.

She shuddered and closed her eyes, shaking her head. “So many. Surely it wouldn’t have been so many if . . .”

“If?”

She shook her head again, folding her arms over the camera bag.