Trapped like a prey

ANYA POV.

The silence was suffocating. Every ticking second in this gilded cage gnawed at my patience, my sanity. I didn’t want to explore like Nikolai suggested—I wanted out.

I paced the room, restless, frustrated. If I sat still for another moment, I’d lose my mind.

Steeling myself, I yanked open the door, and my stomach clenched when I saw him—the scarred man patrolling the hall.

He was built like a boulder, his expression cold and impassive. My pulse jumped, but I forced myself to stand my ground.

“I need to see Nikolai,” I said, keeping my voice firm, though my fingers twitched at my sides.

His gaze lingered on me, sharp with suspicion, before he turned and walked away without a word.

I swallowed hard. Was he actually going to call Nikolai, or had I just made things worse?

Closing the door behind me, I resumed my pacing. The air in the room felt too thick, pressing down on me as I fought against the creeping dread settling in my chest.

Then the door swung open.

I froze. Viktor.

He strode in like he owned not just the room but the air I breathed. His face was unreadable, his presence heavy, suffocating.

I swallowed the sudden lump in my throat and met his gaze with defiance. “What do you want?”

His eyes darkened, and the door clicked shut behind him.

“You’ve made it clear you don’t want to be here,” he said smoothly, his voice like silk hiding a blade. “But don’t think for a second that using Nikolai will get you out.”

Oh, so Scarface ran to him immediately.

I folded my arms, lifting my chin. “Maybe I just wanted to talk to someone who treats me like a human.”

His jaw ticked. He took a slow step closer, closing the space between us like a predator cornering prey.

“Nikolai is loyal,” he murmured. “You won’t change that.”

I smirked, but my stomach twisted. “Afraid I might?”

He scoffed, but there was something unreadable in his eyes—something dangerously close to vulnerability before it vanished.

“You don’t know what you’re playing with.” His voice was low, a warning. “If you try to manipulate him, it won’t end well for you.”

Anger flared in my chest. “Maybe I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t treat me like some caged animal.”

Viktor’s lips curled into a slow, dangerous smirk.

“You aren't caged. You're free to roam about without anyone stopping you, just know that you can't escape here even if the walls of the mansion are down and the gates are opened.”

His words sent a shiver down my spine, but I clenched my fists. I refused to let him see my fear.

“I’ll find a way out,” I whispered fiercely.

Viktor reached out, his fingers brushing against my cheek. The touch was barely there, but it sent a bolt of electricity through me.

My body betrayed me, reacting to him when my mind screamed to pull away.

“And you would wish you never did,” he murmured, his voice deceptively soft.

I hated the way he affected me, how his presence seeped into my veins like a poison I couldn’t flush out.

Then, just as quickly as he’d come, he was gone. The door shut behind him with a finality that made my breath hitch.

I exhaled shakily, pressing a hand to my chest. My heart was a wild drum against my ribs.

I had to get out of here.

By nightfall, the mansion was eerily quiet.

I couldn’t just sit here, helpless. Maybe I can explore the mansion like Nikolia and Viktor said.

Carefully, I cracked open the door and stepped into the dimly lit hallway. Every step felt like a risk, but I had to do something. Anything.

The mansion was a labyrinth, with endless corridors and locked doors that whispered secrets I wasn’t meant to hear. Expensive paintings lined the walls, their empty eyes watching me as I moved.

Then I heard voices.

I pressed myself against the wall, heart hammering.

Through a slight gap in a doorway, I caught a glimpse of Viktor. He stood with a few men, his posture relaxed but commanding.

The other man in the room wasn’t so lucky. He looked terrified.

The conversation was in Russian, the words sharp, edged with warning. I only caught pieces, but the tension was thick, suffocating.

Then Viktor moved.

A flash of metal. My breath caught. The gunshot rang out like a thunderclap and the man crumpled to the floor.

My body turned to ice. I stumbled back, clamping a hand over my mouth to keep from screaming. My pulse roared in my ears as I spun on shaky legs and fled.

Back in my room, I barely made it to the bathroom before I vomited. I gripped the sink, my knuckles white, my mind spiraling.

Viktor Romanov wasn’t just a cruel man with too much power. He was the mafia.

I thought the mafia was just a story.

Something I’d read about in books or seen in movies—powerful men in suits, smoke curling from cigars, blood staining marble floors. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.

But tonight, I saw it. Smelled it. Heard the sickening thud of a body hitting the ground and the sharp crack of a gunshot still ringing in my ears.

And now, I was trapped inside it.

I pressed my back against the cold bathroom tiles, my chest rising and falling too fast, my hands shaking so badly I clenched them into fists to stop.

Celine.

Panic struck like ice in my veins. Where was she? Who had taken her? What was she being forced to do?

Celine wasn’t strong. She wasn’t like me. She was the naive, nerdy girl who giggled at my sarcasm and believed the best in people. And now—

My throat tightened.

No one knew where we were. No one was coming. Viktor’s confidence told me that much. He wasn’t worried about the police. He wasn’t worried about anything.

Ma'am.

She’d be worried sick. I never went this long without emailing her. She thought I was still working at the club, living my life, safely. If only she knew.

I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms. I had to get out. I had to find Celine. I had to—

How?

The question burned through me, my mind racing for solutions. My body was exhausted, my thoughts a tangled mess, but I needed to focus.

I wouldn’t sit here and wait for whatever Viktor had planned.

I wouldn’t be his prisoner.

I stumbled forward, gripping the edge of the sink, my reflection pale and wide-eyed. The girl staring back at me looked like a stranger—like prey.

The door burst open.

I whipped around, my heart slamming into my ribs.

Viktor stood in the doorway, his dark eyes pinning me in place.

He stepped forward, slow and deliberate, and I instinctively backed away until my spine hit the cold wall.

“What—what do you want?” My voice trembled, betraying the fear I tried so desperately to hide.

He didn’t stop until he was right in front of me, close enough that his heat coiled around me like a trap.

I gripped the edge of the counter, my fingers digging into the porcelain. “Viktor—”

He lifted a hand.

I flinched, my breath catching, but he didn’t touch me. He just reached past me, slow and deliberate, brushing his fingers over my hair before gripping the back of my neck with an unbearable gentleness.

I froze.

His touch was soft. Deceptively soft. But the steel beneath it was undeniable. I tried to breathe, but the air barely made it past my lips.

“You’re afraid,” he murmured, so damn calm it sent a fresh wave of fear through me. “Good.”

I shuddered.

His grip didn’t tighten, but it didn’t loosen either. Just stayed there, a quiet, unspoken reminder of his power.

I clenched my teeth, trying to summon some of the defiance that had carried me this far. “You—you killed a man.”

His lips twitched. Not a smile. Not really. “Yes.”

A single word, effortless. Like he had simply swatted a fly.

Bile rose in my throat.

I wanted to scream at him, demand to know what the hell kind of monster he was, but my voice wouldn’t come.

He leaned in. Just enough for his breath to ghost over my cheek.

“Do you know what the difference is between stories and reality, Anya?” he whispered.

I squeezed my eyes shut, my heart slamming against my ribs.

He was too close. His scent wrapped around me—dark spice, expensive cologne, something sharp underneath. The kind of scent that clung to your skin, no matter how hard you tried to scrub it away.

“Reality doesn’t care if you believe in it or not,” he continued, his voice smooth, steady. “It exists. It doesn’t need your permission.”

My stomach twisted.

He released me suddenly, stepping back, leaving behind only the ghost of his touch.

I gasped, sucking in a shaky breath, my legs weak beneath me.

His dark gaze locked onto mine, pinning me in place. “You’re being watched, there's no escaping, welcome to Romanov's home.”

His voice was soft. Too soft. A warning wrapped in silk.

I swallowed hard. “And if I do escape?”

His smirk sent ice down my spine. “Try first.”

Then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him. I slumped against the counter, my legs barely holding me up.