MasukChapter 174The world did not end with fire or fury. It ended in the brittle snap of frost beneath my knees as I dragged two small, impossibly still bodies into my arms.The forest held its breath. No birds. No wind. Only the crushing silence that pressed against my ribs until every inhale sliced like broken glass. I rocked them, Leo and Luna the way I had a thousand nights before, when nightmares came and small hands reached for me in the dark.“Leo, baby…” My voice was a ragged whisper, already fracturing. “It’s so cold. Why are you sleeping in the dirt? You know Mommy hates when you ruin your coat.” I pulled the silk handkerchief from my pocket, the one I’d stolen from Volkov’s cursed house, and scrubbed at the mud on his forehead with trembling fingers. Back and forth, back and forth, as if cleanliness could summon breath. “There. All clean. See? Now you can wake up. We’ll go to that little bakery you loved, the one with the warm chocolate croissants that melt on your tongue. Yo
Chapter 173The steam in the master suite’s bathroom was so thick it felt like a shroud. I stood under the spray, the water scalding, yet I couldn't feel the heat. My skin was flushed a violent red, but inside, I was a block of arctic ice. I am marrying the man who wants my children dead, I thought, the realization clawing at my throat. I am sleeping in the bed of the monster who burned my life to ash.I gripped the marble ledge of the shower, my knuckles white. A sob threatened to rip through my chest, but I choked it back. Don’t cry. If you cry, the salt will show on your face. If you cry, Viktor will smell the weakness.I forced myself to breathe. I finished the shower, dried my skin with towels that felt like sandpaper against my raw nerves, and applied cream with robotic precision. I slipped into a silk nightdress, black, like a funeral and felt the weight of the burner phone hidden in my folio.Vibration.My heart nearly stopped. I scrambled for the bag, pulling the device out
Chapter 172The declaration hung in the air, vibrating against the crystal chandeliers like a physical blow. Leonid looked as though I had reached across the table and personally slit his throat. His mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. Behind him, Nikolai and Dimitri sat like statues, their forks hovering over empty plates, paralyzed by the sudden shift in the family’s tectonic plates.Viktor, however, let out a low, purring sound of satisfaction. He didn't move to touch me, not yet but his energy expanded, filling every corner of the room until the Kirovs looked like small, flickering candles in a gale-force wind."There you have it, Leonid," Viktor said, his voice smooth as silk. "A union born of choice. Your daughter has more vision in her pinky finger than you’ve had in thirty years of leadership.""You... you didn't even consult me," Leonid finally choked out, his eyes burning with a mix of fury and genuine terror. "Rai, you cannot be serious. This is Volkov. You use
Chapter 171The Volkov estate didn't just scream wealth; it screamed dominance. As the Kirov limousine pulled up the heated drive, the silence inside the car was thick enough to suffocate. My "father," Leonid, was white-knuckled, his eyes darting toward me every few seconds with a mixture of confusion and burgeoning dread."He was laughing on the phone, Rai," Leonid muttered, straightening his silk tie for the tenth time. "Viktor Volkov does not invite families to dinner to be social. What did you do in those woods?""I survived, Father," I said, my voice as cold as the Siberian wind. "Isn't that what you raised me to do?" Deep down, I knew what this pretense dinner will be all about. I just need to enjoy the game while Viktor thinks he holds the reins.The doors were opened by men who looked more like special forces than footmen. We were ushered into a dining hall where the table groaned under the weight of roasted game, vintage wines, and crystal that caught the light like jagged
Chapter 170The grip on my waist tightened until I felt the internal structure of my ribs groan. The cold Russian air was a sharp contrast to the furnace-like heat radiating from Viktor Volkov’s body. He slammed me back against the rough bark of a pine tree, his shadow swallowing me whole."Answer me!" he roared, his voice shaking the frost from the branches above. "Did I not make it clear in the Spire? Did I not mark you with my own blade?""Viktor…" I gasped, my hands instinctively clawing at his forearms. They were like granite. "You’re... choking me."He didn't loosen his hold. Instead, he leaned in closer, his nose brushing against mine. His scent was overwhelming, expensive tobacco, rain, and something metallic that reminded me of a sharpened edge."Choking you? I should do more than that," he whispered, his rage suddenly turning from a roar to a terrifying, quiet vibration. "I watched you walk out of that house like a frightened doe, fleeing from the talk of marriage. Do you th
Chapter 169The drive to the Kirov estate was a blur of neon lights and freezing rain. My mind was a chaotic library, flipping through every piece of data I’d scraped from Rai’s encrypted cloud storage. Dinner. Think, Evelyn. What does she eat? How does she sit?Rai was left-handed but forced herself to use her right hand to please her father. She hated caviar but always took a double serving to show 'strength.' She never spoke unless spoken to. I pulled into the massive driveway, the iron gates groaning open like the jaws of a beast. I checked my reflection in the rearview mirror. The makeup was holding. The wound on my neck looked authentic. I stepped out of the car, the Russian winter air biting at my skin. I wasn't Evelyn Prokofiev anymore. I wasn't even a spy. I was a daughter returning to a home that had never been a home."Welcome back, Miss Rai," the butler said, his face a mask of indifference."Thank you, Mikhail," I said, remembering the name from a payroll list.I walke
Chapter 71The morning after the pantry incident with Lucien felt like waking up inside a pressurized steam cooker. Every time I closed my eyes, I heard that low, gravelly promise, The Fox always catches what he hunts. My skin still felt sensitized, the ghost of his knuckles tracing my jawline act
Chapter 67 Caleb’s POV The morning light in Marbella was far too bright for a man who had just survived a trash compactor and a death threat. It danced off the white-washed walls with a cheerful indifference to my misery. I stood on a street corner, my body aching, dressed in a set of nondescri
Chapter 69Caleb’s POV The first week as Antonella had been a masterclass in psychological endurance. Every morning, I woke at 4:00 AM in the cramped servants' quarters to begin the grueling ritual of self-erasure. I glued the lashes, mapped the contours of a stranger’s face onto my own, and cinc
Chapter 70Caleb's POV The Andalusian night pressed against the villa like a lover too impatient to wait. Heat lingered in every stone, every shadowed corner, turning the air inside the walk-in pantry into something thick, almost drinkable. I was reaching for the jar of Marcona almonds when the v







