LOGINShare
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Last Updated:
2025-05-10 04:03:03
Latest chapter
MINE TO OWN CHAPTER THIRTY–ONE
Ivan smiled. But there was no warmth in it. Just the promise of blood. Zane’s breath caught in his throat. Ivan didn’t move, not yet. He simply stood in the doorway like he belonged to another age—an era of war, of conquests, of iron and fire. A beast cut loose. The waiting room had frozen in his presence. Servants had halted mid-step. A maid’s tray trembled in her hands. One of the house guards standing at the edge of the corridor took a visible step back. Zane blinked, trying to understand why his legs wanted to bolt. He had never seen this man before yet his body reacted like it recognized something ancient. Primal. He glanced instinctively toward the corridor that led to Fyodor’s wing. It remained still. Silent. No footsteps. No presence. No judgment. As if the old man was choosing not to see what had just walked through his doors. That absence sent a new kind of chill down Zane’s spine. Joana watched from the upper landing, one hand resting on the banister, her other clutc
MINE TO OWN CHAPTER THIRTY
Zane didn’t sleep that night. He walked to the drawing room and sat by the fire even long after the embers had begun to die, staring into the low orange glow like it might hold an answer. Katherina’s voice still echoed in his ears—sweet, sure, and sharpened like glass. She had offered him her hand like a queen bestowing mercy. He should have laughed. But it wasn’t funny. It was terrifying. She wasn’t gone. She was here. Back in the house. Walking the halls as if she'd never left. As if the weeks of silence and mystery, of whispered threats and bloodied windowsills, were just another game to her. Andrei hadn't come looking for him. Not last night. Not this morning. Not once since that final, devastating exchange. The silence hurt worse than anything. Am I just something to own? Zane dragged a hand through his hair and stood. The walls felt narrower now. Suffocating. Like the house was watching him. So he wandered. He passed the marble staircases, the ancestral portraits, the e
MINE TO OWN CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Zane returned to his bedroom with a growing sense of uneasiness, the kind that presses into the back of your throat and makes breathing feel heavier than it should. The snow outside had lightened into a soft hush, but the quiet didn’t feel peaceful, it felt orchestrated. He froze. There was someone sitting in his chair. Crossed legs. Wine glass. Scarlet nails. A sharp silhouette cloaked in the shadows. “Katherina?” he whispered, heart hammering so hard he thought it might crack a rib. She looked up from the rim of her glass like she’d been waiting all day for him to arrive. A smile curved her painted lips. Not warm. Not cruel. Just a simple smile. But it was never simple with Katherina. “Hello, darling,” she said smoothly. “Miss me?” Zane’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. She rose from the chair in one fluid motion, gliding across the room like a shadow given form. She never really walked, her feet never seemed to touch the floor long. She couldn't be tethered to the grou
MINE TO OWN CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
The snowfall didn’t let up the next day. If anything, it came down thicker, heavier; blanketing the estate in sheets of white.They returned to the grand Dostoevsky mansion. Zane didn’t leave his room.Not because he couldn’t, but because every time he considered it, something in his chest tightened. The dream from the night before had burrowed deep, like a splinter he couldn’t pull out. The shape in the window. The scent and taste of ash.And the snow. Always the snow.He was buttoning his shirt when the door clicked open. There was no preceeding knock. Just the slow, calculated entrance of someone who owned the space.It could only be one person.It was Andrei.His coat was damp with melted snow, his dark hair curling slightly from the wetness. He shut the door behind him with a soft click and leaned against it like a man blocking an exit.“You didn’t show up for breakfast.”Zane didn’t look at him. “Didn’t realize it was mandatory.”“It is now.”There was a certain sharpness in the
MINE TO OWN CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The cold wasn’t biting so much as it was consuming. It was the kind of cold that didn’t bite at your skin but slipped under it, entering into your bones and soul. Snow covered the evergreen trees outside like sugar on pastries, the skies were a pale blur of lavender and silver.Zane sat by the window in the upstairs library, a thick wool throwover slung around his shoulders. The fire crackled behind him, but he didn’t move closer. He watched the snow with distant eyes, a cup of untouched black coffee cooling in his hands. The silence in the lodge today wasn’t comforting. Wasn't soothing. It was deliberate. Suspended. Like the screeching calm after an explosion.Katherina hadn’t been seen since that explosive night two days ago.Neither had Joana.The house had gone still in a way that reeked of calculation.Andrei, on his part, had barely left Zane’s side. It was a dangerous thing. But not in the way Zane once thought—the threat of violence or captivity. But now, it was something subt
MINE TO OWN CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The snow had started again by morning. Not heavily, but in a hush, a thin layer of frost brushing over the glass panes of the estate windows. Zane stood at the edge of the balcony adjoining Andrei’s room, he stood wrapped in one of his robes. The steam from his coffee mingled with the pale mist of his breath. Behind him, the warmth of the suite fed by the cackling embers in the fire place gave comfort to his aching body. Andrei slept still, finally. He slept deeply.Last night hadn't ended in fire, there was no explosion of canal desire. The night had ended in quiet. In the undoing of something that had stretched too tight for too long. Zane hadn't expected softness, not from Andrei. But that was what he’d received. And that was what unsettled him more than anything else as he stood in the cold of the morning.Andrei Dostoevsky had held him like a lifeline. Like he was a part of him. Now Zane watched the snow fall and wondered what came next.He didn't have long to wonder.There was
MINE TO OWN CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
The next morning, the air was still heavy with the scent of candle wax, sweat, and sex. The stone floor beneath him—them still felt cold, the velvet drapes a cushion between the hard, cold floor and his body. Somewhere, far off, morning had begun to rise, but this room—this confessional as Andrei had called it—remained suspended in time. The candles had burned low and melted into shallow puddles on the iron candle stands, they flickered faintly almost spent and exhausted by their vigil.Andrei was gone.Zane’s limbs ached. His muscles remembered every motion, every grip and grasp, every moan, every gasp, they remembered every shudder of surrender. But it was the absence beside him that truly stung. No warmth left in the spot where Andrei had once knelt. No trace, except for the feeling of a kiss Zane could still feel on his mouth, the lingering his scent on his skin.He dressed slowly. His shirt—torn. Belt—missing. His jeans were rumpled, boots abandoned near the door. He found his re
MINE TO OWN CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Zane didn't sleep that night. He paced his room like a panther forced to remain in a cage, his shirt clung to his skin, his heart a constant drum in his chest. Andrei's restraint echoed in his mind like a slap, it was a denial of self he had never witnessed before. How could someone want something so much, have it amd still not take it? "Not yet." The words had burned. Had left a hole in him. They had reminded him that he was still playing a game he couldn't control—one where the rules were written by Andrei Dostoevsky, and the consequences were his to decide. By morning, the rain had lightened to a drizzle, casting a silver hue over the estate. Zane still couldn't get over how magical this place looked in all weathers. He showered but didn’t dress to impress. Simplicity was the armor he chose now—black jeans, loose grey shirt, combat boots. It was a declaration. He didn’t need silks or lace to haunt Andrei’s mind. He was already there. A knock came at his door. Mikhail. "Breakf
MINE TO OWN CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Zane woke up to the scent of rain and freshly cut grass, it still clung to the stone walls outside filling the air around the estate with it's fresh green smell. He found it refreshing. He didn’t remember falling asleep, only that the memories of the other night. The sound of Andrei’s voice. The previous night, him locking the door behind him as he entered into the study. He had wanted Andrei to make a move. He wanted him to react, physically, needed him to. The slow-burn of whatever sick game they were playing was now eating him alive. He lay still now, eyes on the ceiling, sheets tangled around his hips. An ache, low and heavy in his core.Andrei’s voice still haunted him."Good boy."He blinked slowly, and for a second, Zane wasn’t sure if he was more angry or more aroused. Perhaps both.A tray had been delivered—breakfast. He left it untouched. The coffee grew cold.He got up, showered, dressed in black again. The color suited him now, like a camouflage in a house made from blood
You may also like
The One Night Stand Mafia Heir
Peyton Iuga116.5K viewsHis Betrothed
Taniya Ashley203.7K viewsBeautiful Disaster
Val Sims93.0K viewsMistress - A Tainted Identity
Priyanka jangid87.8K viewsCraving Him, My Step-Brother
Bloody goddess4.3K viewsBecoming a Substitute Wife for a Cold Mafia
Sarah Latifah 126 viewsMaifa's payment
Author Innayat4.6K viewsMARRIED TO THE MAFIA
Sammy1.0K views
