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| 32 | Illusion of Control
publish date:
2025-08-03 23:19:32
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I Am Mustafin | 40 | The Ghost of Goodbye
Content Advisory: This chapter contains themes of intense emotional vulnerability, moral conflict, and explicit description involving unhealthy coping mechanisms. Reader discretion is advised.I lie awake in our bed, the silk sheets feeling too cold against my skin. The clock on the nightstand reads well past midnight, each tick seeming to mock my racing thoughts. My fingers keep finding my lips, remembering a kiss I’m trying desperately to forget. The ghost of Tavin’s touch haunts me, making the weight of Efrem’s necklace feel heavier against my throat.I didn’t take it off. I couldn’t. There’s some part of me that thought leaving it on would somehow erase the guilt.It hasn’t.When the bedroom door finally opens, I smell the whiskey before I see him. Efrem moves through the darkness with that casual grace he maintains even when drinking, though tonight his movements seem heavier. The light from the small bedside lamp catches on the glass in his hand—fuller than his usual evening dri
I Am Mustafin | 39 | Rebellion's First Taste: Part 2
The main course arrives—some perfectly prepared fish I can’t bring myself to touch. Efrem’s hand leaves my thigh then to cut into his portion.“And what of the other matter?” Viktor asks, his fork paused halfway to his mouth. “The one we discussed at the last meeting?”Something in Efrem’s posture changes—a subtle shift that carries volumes. “In progress.”In progress? What other matter? Is he talking about Dimitri? Or is it something else entirely?“Progress is good,” Viktor says carefully. “Though time grows short.”There’s something about the careful way they talk about whatever they’re really discussing. My fingers find the pendant at my throat, absently tracing his name as I try to piece together what I’m missing.“Time,” Efrem says, his voice dropping lower, “is a luxury we can’t always afford.” He turns to me then, his eyes carrying that cold distance that’s become so familiar lately. He leans in to my ear, whispering just one word. One word that sounds more chilling than it sh
I Am Mustafin | 38 | In the Shadow of His Will: Part 1
I stand at my closet, staring at rows of dresses that suddenly all feel like costumes. Each one carefully selected to make me look the part of the perfect wife. My fingers trail over silk and chiffon, catching on beading and lace, but nothing feels right.How do you dress for dinner when you’re wearing a collar?Finally, I select a deep blue dress that covers me from neck to knee. The high neckline frames Efrem’s necklace perfectly, making it impossible to miss. I wonder if that was his intention—if he knew I’d have to showcase it tonight.Of course he did. He knows everything.The mirror reflects back a woman I barely recognize sometimes. She looks polished, elegant even. But her eyes hold something wild, something that doesn’t quite fit with the perfect image she’s meant to project. My fingers rise to the pendant at my throat, feeling his name pressed against my skin like a brand.“So you never forget who you belong to.”…As if I ever could… Not when everywhere I turn, everywhere I
I Am Mustafin | 37 | Collared by His Name
The yarn slips through my fingers for what feels like the hundredth time, another failed attempt at what the instruction manual swears is a simple cast-on. I stare at the tangled mess in my lap, fighting the urge to throw the whole thing across the library.Who thought this would be relaxing?But I know why I’m really here, surrounded by books instead of tending my garden or sitting in my usual spots. After yesterday’s incident, I thought it would be best if I hid in here instead. The library is the one place where Tavin doesn’t follow. Where I don’t have to pretend I don’t notice the way his eyes linger or how his voice has changed when he speaks to me.Stop thinking about him.I focus on the manual again, trying to make sense of the diagrams that look nothing like what my hands are producing. The afternoon sun streams through the window beside me, warming the cushioned window seat that’s become my refuge. From here, I can see the grounds below, perfect and pristine as if nothing bad
I Am Mustafin | 36 | Lessons in Rebellion
Dawn creeps through our bedroom windows, painting everything in shades of gray and white. I watch Efrem dress from my place in bed, following the familiar routine of his morning. The careful way he selects his tie, how his fingers work each button. Even wounded, he moves with that fluid grace that first drew my eye.But something’s changed. The space between us feels wider somehow, deeper. Like we’re separated by more than just the few feet of carpet between the bed and where he stands at the mirror.When did we start feeling so far apart?“I’ve been thinking,” I say carefully, testing the morning quiet. “About what happened during the attack.”His hands pause on his tie for just a fraction of a second—so brief I might have missed it if I hadn’t been watching him. But he doesn’t turn, doesn’t acknowledge my words.“I want to learn how to defend myself,” I continue. “How to use a gun, at least. So next time I’m not so…” I swallow hard, remember the helplessness, the terror. “So useless
I Am Mustafin | 35 | Eyes That Shouldn't Linger
Three days since I’ve been home, and Efrem has barely left his office. The house still feels different. Larger somehow, emptier, despite the increased security that loom the grounds but never enter our home.Maybe I should just be grateful I’m here at all.I’m curled in my usual spot on the sofa in the parlor, a book open but unread in my lap. The words blur together, meaningless against the constant replay of gunfire and fear in my mind. Even here, in broad daylight, surrounded by pristine evidence of my survival, I can’t shake the feeling that everything could shatter again at any moment.I hear the parlor door slide open, Tavin emerging into the room. “Miss Alaki. Miss Anastasiya is here to see you.”Anastasiya?Something in his tone makes me look up—a softness I have yet to get used to. But when our eyes meet, he quickly looks away. His fingers adjust his cuffs, a tell I’ve started noticing more lately, though I try to pretend I haven’t.Stop cataloging every gesture. He’s the sam
I Am Mustafin | 24 | A Silent Conspiracy
As night falls, Efrem remains conspicuously absent. Not that I'm particularly worried—none of the Ringleaders have been seen since morning. And with no one to rein us in, Amara, Christana, Nana, Sophia, and I linger poolside, steadily depleting the minibar's stock.Well, they do. Somewhere between
Last Updated : 2026-03-27I Am Mustafin | 23 | Tequila Poolside
I desperately want to believe that last night was merely a dream. I want to believe that when I open my eyes, I’ll find myself back in my own bed, and this whole thing will be nothing more than an elaborate, unsettling fantasy.But if I truly believeanyof that, I'm com
Last Updated : 2026-03-26I Am Mustafin | 22 | Game of Control
Steam billows around me as I step out of the shower, wrapping a plush white towel around my body. These long, hot showers have become my sole refuge, a small relief from my mounting stress. While I'm acutely aware that my situation could be far worse, I often find myself wishing for a more effect
Last Updated : 2026-03-25I Am Mustafin | 21 | A Seat at the Table
I sit at the dining table, my gaze fixed on the empty charger plate before me, acutely aware of the weight of unspoken judgments hanging in the air. The collective stares of those around me feel like a physical pressure, and I find myself wishing I could dissolve into the ornate chair beneath me.
Last Updated : 2026-03-24
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