I need to survive

ANYA POV.

I could still hear the soldier’s screams.

The sickening crunch of bone. The wet, gurgled pleas as Viktor—calm, merciless—drove the spear into his eye. He didn't know I had gone back to witness it, before running back inside.

I had seen men killed before. Back in my old life, before I was dragged into Viktor Romanov’s world, I had read about brutality in the news, seen it sensationalized in films.

But watching it unfold before me, so sudden and visceral, was something else entirely. I didn't even know how to feel.

It wasn't pity—I knew better than to waste sympathy on men who willingly served in this life.

And it wasn’t horror, not really. I should have been horrified, should have screamed, should have felt something stronger than the cold weight settling in my stomach.

But I had stood there, frozen, my hands trembling as Viktor turned his bloodied gaze on me.

“Get in your room.”

The command had been soft, but it carried more weight than a bullet to the skull.

And I had obeyed. He had came here to berate me before leaving.

Now, alone in my room, I pressed my hands against my temples, trying to shake the image away. My heart was still pounding. My skin felt hot, suffocated by the invisible chains Viktor had wrapped around me.

That soldier was a fool. But had he deserved that?

No.

And yet… another part of me whispered that I had just seen the real Viktor Romanov. The side he never showed when he smirked at me, when he whispered threats laced with amusement, when he pretended this was all just a game between us.

This wasn’t a game. This was war. And I was in the middle of it. A buzz broke the silence.

I flinched, my pulse spiking as I grabbed my phone off the nightstand. My stomach clenched the moment I saw the message.

Unknown Number: You’re taking too long. I need results.

I stared at the screen, my breath coming faster. Then, another message.

Unknown Number: Don’t make me remind you what’s at stake.

A photo came through.

Celine.

She was bound to a chair, her head hanging low, her dark hair a mess, but she was alive. Alive.

I exhaled sharply, gripping the phone so tight my fingers ached.

Before this, Viktor had been a tyrant, a captor, a man I wanted to escape from. But now… now, I was supposed to spy on him? I was supposed to betray him?

He was a monster, but I had just seen the depths of what he was capable of.

And if he found out…

I swallowed hard, my fingers hovering over the keyboard.

I typed out my response. What do you want me to find?

The reply was instant.

Unknown Number: Everything. His plans. His weaknesses.

Unknown Number: Or your friend dies.

I clenched my teeth, closing my eyes.

I had asked his name before, trying to put a face to my enemy. He had answered without hesitation.

Boris Smirnov.

The name meant nothing to me.

Who was he? Why did he want Viktor under surveillance? Were they fighting? Was I the bait?

None of it made sense. But none of it mattered, either.

Celine’s life was in my hands. And that meant Viktor Romanov was my next target.

Every time I thought about Celine, trapped and helpless, my chest tightened. She was my best friend, my family in every way that mattered, and now she was… bought. Just like me.

I looked out the window of my room, staring at the sprawling garden that looked more peaceful than any living thing here. Everything here was luxury, perfection—but none of it felt real. Every corner of this house reminded me I didn’t belong.

“Eto ne moya zhizn’. This is not my life.” I whispered the words to myself like a prayer, like a reminder.

But it was my life now. And if I wanted to save Celine, I had to stop resisting it. I had to act like I belonged and play the part Boris wanted, no matter how much it made me want to scream.

Viktor had to believe me. If I failed, Celine would pay the price.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped into the hall. The scent of polished wood and faint cigar smoke lingered in the air. I knew where to find him. I had managed to extract that much—if little—from talking to Nikolai.

Viktor had a routine, predictable and precise like the rest of him. He’d be in the lounge or library, reading, or pretending to, while Yuvi hovered like a shadow.

I made my way downstairs, forcing my steps to be slow, deliberate. If I moved too fast, my nerves would show. And Viktor—etot ublyudok(this rascal)—he noticed everything.

When I entered the lounge, he was there, just as I expected. Viktor sat on the long leather couch, a book in one hand and a glass of amber liquid in the other.

His dark eyes lifted the moment I walked in, sharp and calculating. He didn’t say a word, but his gaze followed me as I crossed the room.

I could feel Yuvi’s presence, too, even if he wasn’t in my line of sight. He was like an extension of Viktor, silent but always watching.

“I was starting to think you’d locked yourself in your room for good,” Viktor said, his voice smooth and amused.

I forced a small smile. “I needed time to think.”

“About?” He leaned back, swirling his drink lazily.

Here we go, I thought. This was my chance to start breaking through his defenses. “About everything,” I said softly, letting my voice waver just enough to sound genuine. “My life… this place…”

His eyebrows lifted slightly, but he didn’t interrupt. That was a good sign.

I sat down across from him, keeping my posture relaxed but not too relaxed. “I realized fighting this—fighting you—it’s pointless,” I continued, looking at my hands. “I just… I need to survive, Viktor. That’s all I want.”

“Survival is a good goal,” he said, his tone neutral, but his eyes narrowed. “But forgive me if I don’t trust sudden changes of heart, kukolka.”

I met his gaze, letting a flicker of vulnerability show. “You’ve made it clear I don’t have a choice. I get that now. I’m not here to fight you anymore.”

He watched me for a long moment, the silence stretching between us. My heart pounded in my chest, but I didn’t let it show. Finally, he tilted his head, his lips curling into a faint smirk.

“Uvidim.” We’ll see

I needed to push a little more, just enough to plant the seed. “I’m not asking you to believe me right away,” I said. “But I do want to thank you.”

His smirk faltered, replaced by a look of mild surprise. “Za chto?” For what?

“For keeping me safe,” I said, and I hated how easy the lie came. “I know you didn’t have to. And I know I’ve been… difficult.”

“Difficult is an understatement,” he muttered, but there was a glint of humor in his eyes now.

I allowed myself a small laugh, even though it felt foreign. “Fair enough.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Tak skazhi mne, Anya. Chto vyzvalo etu vnezapnuyu blagodarnost’?” So, tell me Anya, what caused this sudden gratitude?

I hesitated, just long enough to make it look like I was debating whether to open up. Then I sighed, lowering my gaze. “Strakh, (Fear)” I admitted. “I don’t want to end up like…”

I trailed off intentionally, letting the implication hang in the air. His expression hardened, his eyes narrowing as if he was trying to read my mind.

“Kak kto?” he pressed. What do you mean?

I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter.”

He didn’t push further, but I could feel his scrutiny. Viktor was smart—too smart. I’d have to be careful not to overplay my hand.

“I just want to find some peace,” I said finally. “If that means… trusting you, then so be it.”

His gaze lingered on me for a moment longer before he leaned back, a faint smile playing on his lips.

“Umnaya devochka.” Smart girl.

I hated the way he said it, like he’d won. But I forced myself to smile back, knowing I’d taken the first step.

The moment was interrupted by the sound of a phone buzzing. Viktor reached into his pocket, pulling out his sleek black phone. He glanced at the screen, his expression darkening.

“Excuse me,” he said, standing abruptly. “Stay here.”

I nodded, watching him leave the room. The moment he was out of sight, I let out a shaky breath. My hands trembled as I reached into my pocket, pulling out my own phone.

There was a new message waiting for me. My stomach sank as I opened it.

Tick-tock, Anya. Don’t get comfortable.

My heart raced as I stared at the screen. Whoever Celine’s buyer was, he wasn’t going to give me time to figure this out. He wanted results, and he wanted them fast.

I deleted the message and slipped the phone back into my pocket just as Yuvi appeared in the doorway. His cold eyes scanned the room, landing on me with suspicion.

“Chto ty delayesh’?” he asked bluntly. What are you doing?

“Waiting,” I said, keeping my tone neutral.

He didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push further. Instead, he leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and watched me like a hawk.

The tension in the room was suffocating, but I forced myself to stay calm. This was my life now, whether I liked it or not.

And if I wanted to survive—if I wanted to save Celine—I had to play the game better than anyone else.

“Ya sdelayu eto radi tebya, Selin.” I whispered under my breath. (I will do it for you, Celine)

But deep down, I wasn’t sure how long I could keep up the act or if at all, Viktor was convinced.