And as the seconds ticked by, I could physically see the tension leaving Arlo. I saw the fight being pushed back to the deep, dark recesses of his soul. “Let’s just get out of here,” I whispered again, and like a snap of fingers, Arlo blinked once, let go of Nikolai, and wrapped his arm around me.

He immediately pulled me in close to his body, my head on his chest, his hand cupping my nape. I could hear Nikolai sucking in ragged breaths, but I didn’t look at him. I didn’t want to have Arlo snapping all over again, another catalyst simply because I was too close to the other man, who Arlo saw as a threat.

Without a backward glance or another word, Arlo led me out of the library and out the front doors. The SUV was waiting for us, and once we were both seated and back on the road, the silence was heavy and thick. I looked over at him and could see how tight his jaw was, his hands on the steering wheel, the leather creaking and his knuckles white from the force of his hold.

“I didn’t want to leave you alone at the gala.” His words were low, barely audible in the interior of the vehicle. “Dmitry had to speak with me, pulled me away, kept me engaged in conversation that could have been dealt with at any other given time.”

His accent was thicker, his anger making the brutal side of him, the side that had grown up in violence and poverty, the side that had been shaped and molded into the warrior he was today, twisting and changing the inclination of his voice.

“Dimitri did it on fucking purpose,” he finally said and glanced over at me, but it was hard to read his expression.

“But why? To what purpose?” I didn’t understand the hierarchy or politics of this underground world, where mafia and powerful families formed alliances and waged wars. Why would it matter if Dmitry kept Arlo occupied so Nikolai could be in the same room with me?

Although I definitely felt a threat from Nikolai, that feeling like an inky stain you could never get out, I hadn’t felt like he wanted to hurt me. He hadn’t even touched me. Was it an intimidation tactic? Was he trying to prove something that only Arlo and the people who ran in their circles would understand?

“Yes,” Arlo said deeply, answering the question I thought had stayed in my mind. “Dmitry and Nikolai are Bratva. Dmitry is the new Pakhan, so he was making a point. I knew some shit would have gone down tonight. It’s all games. They wanted me to know they could get to you.” His hands tightened dangerously on the steering wheel, and I was afraid he’d break it from his anger. It was still there at the surface, boiling and threatening to spill over.