The Flames Beneath Ice

He let go of her neck—finally—but his glare didn’t waver. Instead of sitting beside him, Avery chose the exact same spot he had just vacated, her mischievous smirk daring him to react.

He stared at her like she carried a contagious disease.

“You’re so daring,” he muttered, cold eyes narrowing.

“Says the guy who nearly choked me,” Avery replied, flipping her growing choppy hair with a mock flourish. “I’m the new queen here, you know.”

Kieran rolled his eyes and turned away, reaching for his hoodie as if to disappear under it again. But Avery lunged and snatched it before he could.

He stared.

“Don’t even start with that creepy hoodie. It gives me goosebumps,” she said, clutching it like a trophy.

He sighed—long and annoyed—then shoved his hands coolly into his pockets. “Do you sneak into people’s spaces just to issue fashion commands?”

She nodded proudly. “Yes. If I need to get what I want, I do exactly that.”

A dry laugh escaped his lips, low and humorless. “Bring it,” he said, walking toward her.

“Nope.” Avery backed away, clutching the hoodie tighter. “Say you’ll train me first.”

He didn’t slow his steps, his tall figure closing in. He wasn’t in the mood for cat-and-mouse games.

“Bring it,” he repeated, voice low and cold.

“That won’t work on me, Mr. Dickface,” she replied, still smirking.

He grabbed for the hoodie, but she refused to let go.

“I’ll put it under my dress,” she warned with a devilish grin. “Let’s see you try and take it then.”

His answer was sharper than she expected. “Do it, and we’ll see.”

Something in his tone made her freeze. She knew better. But still—she didn’t let go.

“I’m warning you,” he said again, stepping closer. “Bring it, for the last time.”

“Then come and get it,” she taunted.

“Fine.”

She raised a brow, about to fire another comeback—when she heard it.

A hiss.

Her body froze. It wasn’t just any snake—it was long, sleek, and moved with the trained precision of something that didn’t belong in the wild anymore. It looked exotic, rare, and absolutely terrifying.

She screamed.

The hoodie flew from her hands as she leapt back in panic, her voice going shrill. “SNAKE! Oh God—!”

“It slithered into your clothes,” Kieran added with a straight face, though his eyes gleamed with amusement.

“WHAT?!” she shrieked, already clawing at her gown in pure terror. She nearly tore off the entire dress, her hair a messy halo around her face.

Kieran—watching from a safe distance—allowed himself a smirk. For the first time in days, a genuine smile tugged at his lips… but it was gone just as quickly as it appeared.

“Get it off! Get it off!” Avery was almost in tears, stomping her feet and spinning in panic.

She paused just long enough to lift her head and spot him. The snake—real this time—curled lazily on his shoulder.

She froze.

Her eyes widened.

Then, she bolted.

She ran for the exit so fast, she barely noticed her shoulder snagging on something sharp. Kieran took a step forward, maybe to help—or maybe just to gloat—but the movement made her panic more.

“Nope—NOPE!” she shrieked, jerking her dress with such force it ripped, leaving a torn scrap behind as she scrambled out like the devil himself was chasing her.

Silence fell.

Kieran let out a small sigh, picking up the torn piece of fabric she left behind. He stared at the doorway she escaped through and shook his head.

“Scaredy cat.”

*

Lilia was being treated, but her eyes were fire.

When did that bastard son of hers start keeping a cat? Kieran Kuznetsov—a boy born of her blood—now had secrets, pets. That thing belongs to me, she seethed, lips curling as the nurse dabbed antiseptic on her arm.

“Careful,” the nurse flinched as Lilia’s eyes darkened. Everyone knew better than to annoy her when she was in this mood—unless they wished for a short, painful life.

She stood abruptly even though the treatment wasn’t complete, brushing off the nurse’s hand. Her thin silk robe slid down one shoulder, revealing the scars of battles she had earned, not begged for. She had two other wives to meet—Anya and Malina—but she no longer cared. Time I end some people, she muttered, seating herself again at her vanity.

A bottle of Russian horilka caught her eye. She poured a shot into a crystal glass, sipping it slowly as the fire ran down her throat.

Did she really fall for that? The girl?

Before Malina had entered, she’d overheard something strange—Lisa and Avery speaking about a mission, something about going out, despite being trapped in the estate.

She couldn’t place it, but something didn’t feel right.

Lilia’s eyes narrowed. “Keep a watch on her,” she ordered her guard through the mirror. “She doesn’t look like the submissive type. Probably cooking up something.”

A cruel smile played on her lips. “Avery Wells... let’s see what you’re up to.”

Inside the Kuznetsov Hospital…

A heavy silence hummed in the underground laboratory, a chilling hum of machines blending with the sound of clinking metal and low murmurs.

Doctors—or maybe scientists—moved like ghosts in white coats, hunched over long steel tables, working under harsh fluorescent lights. They handled vials of pale liquids, crushed herbs, and dropped tiny amounts into tubes that fizzed without color. The air reeked of chemicals and sterilized death.

At the far end stood Denis Kuznetsov, clad in his own white coat, arms crossed, eyes scanning the chaos with an unreadable expression.

Beside him sat Roman, eyes hard, a healing scar on his cheek and his leg still wrapped in bandages. The wheelchair creaked slightly as he shifted.

"Why the sudden preparation?" Roman asked, his voice gruff but steady.

Denis didn’t look at him. “Silence is striking soon. Sergei returns to the States in days. And when he does, we don’t know what he’s coming with. Could be soldiers, bombs... or worse. Sergei ordered us to prepare.”

Roman’s jaw tensed. “That bastard... We never even did anything to him. He just attacks like a coward—like a ghost.”

“I wouldn’t underestimate him,” Denis murmured, picking up a vial of the poison, watching it swirl.

“One shot of this—colorless, scentless—it’ll eat the flesh from inside, tearing blood vessels, leaving the body paralyzed while the brain’s still awake.” He smirked darkly. “You feel everything, but you can’t scream.”

Roman let out a low whistle, smirking. “Beautiful.”

Back in Avery’s chamber...

Her door slammed shut behind her. Her fists clenched at her sides. Rage simmered beneath her skin.

She had failed—again.

She couldn’t get into Kieran’s mind. No matter what she did, he was unreadable. Cold. Inhuman.

And that thing. That disgusting snake he kept like a companion. Who the hell keeps a snake?

The image made her stomach churn.

The maids rushed toward her, concern in their eyes, but she waved them off sharply. “Get out.”

They obeyed without a word.

She yanked off her ruined dress, tossing it aside with a sharp exhale. The bruises on her shoulder throbbed. Cool water. She needed that.

Avery stepped into the bathroom, stripped off the rest, and let the shower run down her body. Steam surrounded her, fogging the mirror, washing the grime and humiliation off her skin. Her thoughts slowed, and her breathing calmed, but only just.

She stayed longer than usual. Maybe hoping she’d wash the memory of his stupid smirk off her mind. But as she stepped out, wrapping herself in a white robe, a towel wrapped over her dripping hair—

—her heart slammed.

Kieran was sitting on her bed.

Looking at her photos.

What the actual hell?

Her brain short-circuited.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she asked, voice a dangerous whisper.

Kieran looked up slowly, no hoodie this time—black T-shirt, black pants, hair falling lazily over his forehead. That annoying coolness again.

“Same way you got into my space,” he replied flatly.

Avery’s nostrils flared. “Dickface. You nearly killed me twice today. First with your hands. Then with your demon pet. You want to go for three?”

“You looked cute when you screamed,” he said, standing.

His eyes slowly slid down her robe-clad figure. “You look pretty in that.”

Her entire body flushed. Her hands flew to her chest. “Pervert.”

She launched a punch at him in frustration, but he caught her wrist with ease.

And somehow—they stumbled.

She slipped. He stepped forward.

And they both fell.

Avery landed on top of him, her damp towel sliding off slightly, wet strands of hair falling over his face. Their bodies pressed, breath tangled, hearts pounding.

She froze.

His hand still held her wrist. Their faces were close. Too close. Nose to nose, his lips a whisper away. His hair tickled her cheek.

His smirk widened.

She hated how his lips looked—pink, soft, tempting.

No. No. No.

“Dickface…” she breathed, “Let go.”

“Your heart is noisy,” he muttered, that damn smirk curling deeper.

Her heart was doing somersaults, flipping in ways it shouldn’t. She could practically feel electricity crawling along her spine.

Why did he always smell good? Why was his skin warm? Why did her body feel like jelly?

And why—why couldn’t she move?

The moment snapped when a voice echoed from outside the door.

“Lady Avery?”

Avery stiffened.

Malina.

That girl again.

Her eyes darted back to Kieran—who looked unbothered, still pinned beneath her, still calm.

This wasn’t happening.