Chapter 14 : WHEN NIGHTMARES BECOME REAL

7:30 AM - THE AWAKENING

"Rian... Rian... Kyrian Volkov!"

The voice cut through the fog of sleep like a knife.

Kyrian gasped, his eyes flying open.

His mother's face swam into focus above him—worried, gentle, real.

"Mom?" His voice came out hoarse, confused.

Arina sat on the edge of his bed, her hand on his shoulder. "Finally!

I've been trying to wake you for the past hour, baby. You were thrashing around, talking in your sleep."

Kyrian sat up quickly—too quickly.

His head spun.

He looked around frantically.

His room.

His room.

Not the Moretti guest suite. Not the massive bed with silk sheets.

Not the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking manicured gardens.

His childhood bedroom in the Volkov mansion.

The same dark blue walls. The same bookshelf filled with modeling magazines and old trophies.

The same view of the Moscow skyline through familiar windows.

"What—" Kyrian's hands were shaking. "What are you doing here? How did you—"

"What do I mean, what am I doing here?" Arina's brow furrowed.

"Kyrian, this is my house. Are you feeling okay? You look pale."

Kyrian touched his face.

"I..." He looked at his hands, turning them over. "Mom, where am I?"

"In your room, baby. In Moscow.

Where you've been all week."

Arina pressed her palm to his forehead. "No fever. But you're sweating. Did you have a nightmare?"

Nightmare.

The word hit him like a physical blow.

Images flooded back in chaotic fragments:

The casino. Lorenzo's hand on his wrist. Throwing the drink. The ultimatum. The estate. Matteo. The garden.

The midnight conversation.

"Oh my god," Kyrian whispered. "It was a dream."

"What was a dream?"

"All of it. The estate. The week.

Lorenzo. The—" He stopped himself. "It was all a dream."

Arina's expression softened with understanding. "You've been under a lot of stress lately.

The new medication, the upcoming shows. It's normal to have vivid dreams."

But it felt so real.

Kyrian pinched his arm hard.

"Ow!"

"Kyrian!"

"I needed to—I had to make sure—"

"You're awake, baby. I promise."

Arina smoothed his hair back.

"Now come on. Your father is waiting downstairs. He needs to talk to you about what happened yesterday."

Kyrian's blood ran cold.

"What... what happened yesterday?"

"The casino incident." Arina stood, walking toward the door.

"With the Morettis? You really don't remember?"

No. No no no no—

"That part was real?" Kyrian's voice cracked.

Arina turned, confused. "Of course it was real. You threw a drink at Lorenzo Moretti in front of half of Monaco's elite. Your father has been fielding calls all night."

The room spun.

The casino was real. The drink. Lorenzo's face.

But the rest... the estate, the week, ... that was the dream.

"Kyrian?" Arina's voice seemed far away. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine," he lied automatically.

"Just... disoriented. I'll be down in ten minutes."

"Okay. Don't take too long. This is important." She paused at the door. "And Kyrian? Whatever you dreamed... it's over now. You're safe."

She left.

Kyrian sat frozen on his bed.

Safe.

The word felt wrong.

Because if the casino was real...

If Lorenzo really did grab him, and he really did throw that drink...

Then Lorenzo Moretti was out there right now.

Angry.

Humiliated.

Planning his revenge.

"I hope you enjoyed your freedom tonight. It's the last night you'll have it."

The text message.

Kyrian grabbed his phone from the nightstand.

He scrolled through his messages with shaking hands.

There.

Unknown Number (11:47 PM last night): Sleep well, Little Volkov. We'll be seeing each other very soon.

Unknown Number (11:48 PM last night): I hope you enjoyed your freedom tonight. It's the last night you'll have it.

It wasn't a dream.

The threats were real.

Kyrian felt sick.

What if the dream was a warning? What if it was showing me what's coming?

The conditions. Lorenzo's cruelty.

What if it wasn't a nightmare?

What if it was a premonition?

He stumbled to his bathroom and splashed cold water on his face.

In the mirror, he looked pale.

Haunted.

But whole.

Pull yourself together. It was just a dream. This is the real world. That doesn't happen.

But even as he told himself that, doubt gnawed at him.

Because Lorenzo Moretti wasn't a normal man.

And in their world, impossible things happened all the time.

Kyrian dried his face and got dressed quickly—jeans and a soft sweater, nothing fancy.

He took his morning medication out of habit.

Two suppressants. One stabilizer.

The familiar ritual grounded him slightly.

Okay. Okay. Go downstairs. Talk to Dad. Figure out what's real and what was just the nightmare.

He took a deep breath and headed downstairs.

8:00 AM - THE BREAKFAST TABLE

The Volkov family sat around the breakfast table in tense silence.

Kirill at the head, reading something on his tablet with a grim expression.

Arina serving food with forced cheerfulness.

Ivan eating mechanically, his jaw tight.

And Kyrian, sliding into his usual seat, feeling like he was walking into an execution.

"Morning," Kyrian said quietly.

"Morning," Ivan echoed, not looking up.

Kirill set down his tablet and looked at his youngest son.

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine. Confused. Mom said something happened yesterday?"

"You don't remember?" Ivan finally looked at him.

"I remember the casino. I remember..." Kyrian hesitated. "I remember throwing the drink."

The table went silent.

"So you do remember," Kirill said heavily.

"Is that why everyone's acting weird?"

"Kyrian," Arina said gently, "what you did last night was very brave.

But also very dangerous."

"I defended myself. He grabbed me without permission—"

"We know," Kirill interrupted.

"And I don't blame you for reacting. But you humiliated Lorenzo Moretti. Publicly. In his own territory."

"So?"

"So," Ivan said sharply, "he's going to retaliate. That's what men like him do."

"Then he's mine."

Lorenzo's voice from the dream echoed in Kyrian's head.

"What kind of retaliation?" Kyrian asked, his voice smaller now.

Kirill and Arina exchanged a look.

"We don't know yet," Kirill said.

"But I've been getting calls all night. Business partners. Associates. Everyone wants to know what's going to happen."

"And?"

"And we're waiting. Lorenzo will make his move. We just don't know what it will be."

Kyrian's appetite vanished.

"What if..." Kyrian started, then stopped.

"What if what?" Arina prompted.

"What if he tries to... I don't know.

Take me? Or force me into something?"

Ivan scoffed. "This isn't the dark ages, Rian. He can't just kidnap you."

Kyrian wanted to believe that.

But the dream felt too vivid. Too real.

"Can we increase security?" Kyrian asked. "Just in case?"

"Already done," Kirill said. "No one gets near this house without my approval.".

"And if he makes demands? Threats?"

"Then we deal with it." Kirill's voice was firm. "As a family.

Together."

Kyrian nodded, trying to feel reassured.

But dread still sat heavy in his stomach.

They ate in relative silence for a few minutes.

Then Kirill's phone rang.

He looked at the screen and his expression darkened.

"It's Vincenzo Moretti."

The table went still.

"Answer it," Arina said quietly.

Kirill answered on speaker.

"Vincenzo."

"Kirill. Good morning." Vincenzo's voice was calm, professional. "I hope I'm not interrupting breakfast."

"What do you want?"

"I want to schedule a meeting.

Today, if possible. To discuss last night's incident."

"There's nothing to discuss. Your son grabbed my son without permission. Kyrian defended himself."

.

"I'm not disputing that. But there are... consequences to consider.

For both our families."

Kyrian's hands clenched under the table.

Here it comes.

"What kind of consequences?"

Kirill asked carefully.

"The kind best discussed in person. Can you come to our estate at 2:00 PM?"

"I can. But Kyrian stays here."

"That's acceptable. For now."

For now.

The words hung ominously in the air.

"Fine. 2:00 PM. But Vincenzo—if this is some kind of trap—"

"It's not a trap. It's a negotiation."

Vincenzo's tone was mild. "We're civilized men, Kirill. Let's act like it."

He hung up.

Kirill set down his phone slowly.

"I don't like this," Ivan said immediately.

"Neither do I." Kirill looked at Kyrian. "But we have to hear what they want."

"What if it's bad?" Kyrian asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "What if they want—"

"Whatever they want, the answer is no," Kirill said firmly. "I don't care what Lorenzo Moretti demands. You are my son. Not a bargaining chip."

Kyrian wanted to believe him.

But the dream whispered in his mind:

"Sign, or we leave and the alternative begins.".

"Your hand hovered over the pen."

"I'm so sorry, Rian."

"He signed."

"Dad," Kyrian said urgently.

"Promise me something."

"Anything."

"Promise me that no matter what they offer, no matter what they threaten—you won't sign anything. You won't agree to anything without talking to me first."

Kirill frowned. "Kyrian, what brought this on?"

"Just promise me. Please."

Kirill studied his son's face—the fear, the desperation.

"I promise. Nothing happens without your consent. Okay?"

Kyrian nodded, but the anxiety didn't ease.

Because he'd seen what came next.

In the dream, Lorenzo won.

And Kyrian had a terrible, sinking feeling that dreams didn't always stay dreams.

Sometimes, they became prophecies.

2:00 PM - MORETTI ESTATE - THE MEETING

Kirill Volkov arrived exactly on time.

He was escorted to a lavish office where Vincenzo Moretti sat behind a massive desk, Dante beside him with a tablet.

No Lorenzo in sight.

"Where's your son?" Kirill asked, remaining standing.

"Lorenzo is... occupied. He thought this conversation would be better between fathers." Vincenzo gestured to the chair. "Please, sit."

"I'll stand."

"Suit yourself." Vincenzo pulled out a leather folder.

"Let's get to the point. Last night, your son humiliated mine in a very public, very visible way."

"Your son grabbed mine without permission."

"I'm not denying that. But the response was... disproportionate.

And now we have a problem."

"Which is?"

"Our business relationship. Our alliance. The perception of weakness." Vincenzo slid the folder across the desk. "This affects both of us, Kirill."

Kirill didn't touch the folder.

"What's your point?"

"My point is that we need to resolve this. Quickly. Cleanly. In a way that benefits both families."

"And your solution?"

Vincenzo tapped the folder. "A marriage contract. Between Lorenzo and Kyrian."

The room went silent.

Kirill's jaw clenched. "You're insane."

"I'm practical. Marriage alliances have been used for centuries to unite families, end conflicts—"

"My son is not a pawn in your political games!"

"He became one the moment he threw that drink," Vincenzo said calmly. "Now the question is: do we handle this diplomatically, or does Lorenzo handle it his way?"

"What's his way?"

Vincenzo's expression darkened slightly. "Trust me. You don't want to know."

"Is that a threat?"

"It's a fact. Lorenzo is... unhappy.

I'm offering you a way to turn that unhappiness into an alliance."

"By selling my son to your sociopath offspring?!"

"By uniting our families through marriage. Legally. Publicly. With respect and dignity."

"There's nothing dignified about forced marriage!"

"Who said anything about forced?"

Vincenzo leaned back. "We give Kyrian a choice. Marry Lorenzo willingly, with all the benefits and protection that brings. Or refuse, and face Lorenzo's... alternative response."

Kirill grabbed the folder and threw it across the room.

"The answer is NO. Absolutely not.

I will not sign over my son like property!".

"Then you condemn him to worse."

"I don't believe you. This is all threats and manipulation—"

"Believe what you want." Vincenzo stood. "But I'll give you three days to reconsider. Because if you refuse, Lorenzo will do this his way. And his way involves less paperwork and more... persuasion."

"You think you can intimidate me—"

"I'm not trying to intimidate you.

I'm trying to save your son from something much worse than marriage."

The two men stared at each other.

"Three days," Vincenzo repeated.

"Think about it. Talk to Kyrian.

Make him understand what's at stake."

"What's at stake is his freedom!"

"What's at stake is his safety.

Choose wisely, Kirill."

Kirill turned and stormed out.

He didn't see Lorenzo standing in the shadows of the hallway, watching with cold, calculating eyes.

Didn't see the cruel smile that curved those lips.

Didn't see Dante approach Lorenzo with the rejected contract.

"He refused," Dante said.

"Good," Lorenzo replied softly. "I prefer it when they make me work for it."

"You're really going to do this?

Even if he keeps saying no?"

Lorenzo's smile widened.

"Especially then."

3:30 PM - VOLKOV MANSION - THE CONFESSION

Kirill returned home looking like he'd aged ten years.

Kyrian, Ivan, and Arina were waiting in the living room.

"Well?" Ivan demanded.

Kirill sank into a chair. "They want Kyrian to marry Lorenzo."

Arina gasped. "What?!"

"A marriage contract. As an alliance. To 'resolve' the incident."

Kyrian's vision tunneled.

No. No no no.

"That's insane!" Ivan shouted. "They can't force—"

"I refused," Kirill said firmly. "I told them absolutely not."

"And?" Arina pressed.

"And Vincenzo gave us three days to reconsider. Said if we refuse, Lorenzo will... handle it his way."

"What does that mean?" Kyrian asked, his voice barely audible.

"I don't know. But nothing good."

Kyrian stood abruptly. "I need air."

"Rian—"

"I just need a minute!"

He walked out quickly, heading for the garden.

Ivan followed him.

"Rian, wait."

Kyrian spun around. "It's happening, Ivan."

"I had a nightmare last night.

About Lorenzo.

About—" His voice broke. "About Lorenzo making deals, something similar to it. And now it's real!"

Ivan grabbed his shoulders.

"Listen to me. It was just a coincidence. Dreams don't predict the future."

"What if this one did?"

"It didn't. We won't let this happen. Dad refused. It's over."

"He has three days to reconsider. What if—"

"He won't. No matter what Lorenzo threatens, Dad won't sell you."

"But what if Lorenzo doesn't give him a choice? What if he just... takes me?"

"Then we fight. All of us. Together."

Kyrian wanted to believe him.

But the dream lingered.

Lorenzo's voice: "Then he's mine."

"I'm scared, Ivan."

"I know. Me too." Ivan pulled him into a hug. "But we're Volkovs. We don't surrender. Not to anyone."

Kyrian nodded against his brother's shoulder.

But deep down, he knew.

The nightmare wasn't over.

It was just the beginning.

And in three days, everything would change.

Whether they wanted it to or not.

Author's note 💌

I know you all are confused and frustrated.

but as you will read further you will find it More intresting.