LOGINANGELINE HARRINGTON We returned to the cabin, he gave some instructions to Dimitri who simply nodded and left soon after with his men. The tension that remained between the two of us was now denser and colder than the blizzard outside. We had barely crossed the threshold of the room when Nikolai turned to me, his fury now directed, sharp as a knife. "What were you thinking?" His voice wasn't a shout, but a hoarse, dangerous whisper. "Going out alone, without warning, without the protection of my men, in the middle of a storm, after what you saw today? Do you have a death wish, Angeline?" "I needed air!" I retorted, the courage of desperation still throbbing within me. "And your men were busy, remember? Dealing with the consequences of their work." He ignored the nudge. That's no excuse. And for their recklessness, the men on duty will pay. They failed to protect what is most important. The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I remembered Yuri, his submissive and loyal ga
ANGELINE HARRINGATON And judging by Nikolai's demeanor, he really did know the name. Elizaveta Volkova. And now he knew it wasn't an underworld legend; it was a reality. So, looking at the man in front of us, he said: — I heard she's a Pakhan who commands one of the most discreet and efficient clans in the East, right? Yes sir, Our Lady is known for her meticulous strategy and for never starting unnecessary conflicts. Believe me, she prefers channels of communication to bullets. Well, if that's true, then just say what you have to say! The leader of the invaders, a man of average height but with intelligent eyes, kept his hands visible, a display of non-aggression that seemed genuine. "Mr. Volkov," he began, maintaining a respectful tone. "Elizaveta Volkova sends her regards. And a warning." "What warning?" Nikolai's question came out short and dry. The leader of the invaders took a deep breath and replied: — Pakhan Volkova is aware of the problems she had with the
ANGELINE HARRINGATON My heart pounded against my ribs, and my throat was completely dry. The hand covering my mouth was huge and strong, and the arm that had pulled me against that hard, large body clearly belonged to a trained man. I fought. I tried to scream against the leather glove, I struggled with a desperate force that came from the depths of my soul. I wouldn't be taken like that. Not without a fight, my elbows met ribs, the tips of my boots kicked his legs. I heard a muffled groan of pain near my ear, but the grip didn't loosen. And soon more men appeared beside him, many more. "Stop fighting, woman!" The voice was hoarse, strange, and it wasn't Yuri's or any of Nikolai's guards I knew. The accent was different. It was then that I saw, through the curtain of snow, two more silhouettes in the distance. They were large, menacing shadows; I had no doubt it was Nikolai and Dimitry. When the man holding me also realized this, he became frightened and squeezed me tighter. D
ANGELINE HARRINGTON I'm still terrified. My heart won't stop pounding erratically, waiting for a reprisal that never comes. I said things I never dared to utter in the months I was his silent prisoner. But I couldn't take it anymore. After seeing that scene, after seeing him covered in another man's blood, after sharing such intimacy with him in the bedroom… his duality crushed me. How could the same man whose hands touched me with an intensity bordering on adoration transform, in minutes, into that icy monster? I knew that, sooner or later, I would have to keep my promise. He would come to my room, and I wouldn't have the courage to refuse him. But now, the mere thought of his proximity fills me with a new, deeper, and more distressing fear. A fear that isn't just of what he might do to me, but of what he is. And that leaves me devastated, lost. I was completely disoriented in the room, no longer knowing what to think, when I heard new sounds coming from downstairs. They were n
NIKOLAI VOLKOV I watched her back as she climbed the stairs, her posture erect even in her robe, and a storm of conflicting feelings raged within me. The anger at her being so insolent, so defiant, was a familiar fire. But beneath it, something more dangerous and profound simmered: fascination. An animalistic respect for her having found the courage to face me like that, even trembling, even with the terror of the bloody scene still fresh in her memory. "I'm dangerously screwed." The phrase echoed in my mind, a bitter diagnosis. I wasn't sure what I felt for that woman, and I hated that uncertainty. She weakened me. She turned me into a sentimental idiot. So much so that she said whatever she wanted, and I, instead of giving her the punishment her insolence deserved, let her go. With a growl of frustration, I slammed my fists on the coffee table, making the china clink. The noise took me back to the hours leading up to that morning disaster. It had all started in the middle of
ANGELINE HARRINGTON The coldness still lingered in his eyes, but now it was contained, tamed beneath the mask of civilization. "Sit down," he said, his voice neutral, indicating the chair in front of him. I obeyed silently, avoiding his gaze. The aroma of strong coffee and croissants couldn't mask the tension that hung in the air. Nikolai wasn't fooling me. The beast was merely contained, dressed in Egyptian cotton and polish. The Pakhan and the monster were there, seated at my coffee table, serving me jam with a precision reminiscent of a surgeon—or an executioner. The contrast between the man of the previous night and the one of that morning wasn't a duality. It was the same person seen under two lights: that of desire and that of the full moon. And I, now, was forced to see under both. "What you saw…" he began, pausing to add sugar to his coffee with incredible precision. "It was business. Overdue and poorly resolved business. It wasn't for you." "Everything about you i







