LOGINHe banned the maids from the bedroom immediately.Then, for the first time in four days, Killian left the room. He posted Marco outside the heavy oak door and disappeared downstairs. Twenty minutes later, he returned holding a small silver tray in his massive hands. A simple bowl of porridge sat on the porcelain plate.He had walked to the side of the bed, sitting by my hip. He picked up the silver spoon and held it out toward me. I had shrunk back against the pillows, shaking my head violently. I could not risk it."I made it," Killian had stated softly.I was frozen. I stared at him, feeling like I had slipped into an entirely different universe. The Russian Pakhan. The ruthless man who ordered executions without a single blink. He had gone down to the kitchen and cooked my food. It completely scrambled my mind.He had brought the spoon up to his own mouth, swallowing a bite of the porridge to prove it was safe. Only then did I allow my
The word dropped into my stomach like a heavy stone.Poisoned.My breathing hitched. The plastic oxygen mask fogged up instantly with my rapid, shallow breaths.How.My mind scrambled blindly through the hazy memories. I had not left this bedroom in a week. I had not spoken to anyone. I ate the food the maids brought on the silver trays. I drank the bottled water on the bedside table. I took the thick cough syrup the doctor gave me. I swallowed the small white pills the maid said were pregnancy supplements.A cold, absolute terror seized my chest. Someone had walked right into this room, smiled at me, and fed me something that almost stopped my heart. I felt violently sick to my stomach. I was entirely trapped in a house where someone wanted me dead.I turned my head sharply to look at Killian.His face was an unreadable mask of solid stone. He saw the sheer panic flood into my green eyes. He watched my chest heave under
LUNA POV: My hazy, unfocused eyes stared blindly at the dark ceiling. I blinked twice, trying to force the heavy, suffocating fog out of my brain. Bright green lights blurred in my peripheral vision. A sharp, rhythmic beep echoed violently against the inside of my skull. A thick piece of cold plastic covered my nose and mouth, pushing a steady hiss of dry air down my burning throat. My entire body felt like it had been crushed under wet cement. My bones throbbed with a deep, sickening ache. Then I felt the touch. A massive, burning hot hand completely enveloped my freezing fingers. Rough fingertips gently brushed a heavy, damp lock of hair away from my forehead. "Doll." The voice was a low, gravelly whisper. It sounded completely wrecked. I slowly rolled my heavy head against the silk pillow. The small movement took a massive amount of physical effort. I looked to
Four more days.The words echoed inside Killian's skull. If he had stayed away at the docks for just four more days, he would have come home to a dead wife.A cold, absolute darkness washed over his vision. The violent beast chained inside his ribs thrashed wildly, demanding blood. Someone in his house had smiled at her, served her food, and watched her slowly wither away right in front of them.Killian did not say a single word. He just stared at her pale, bloodless lips.The doctor recognized the sheer, lethal danger radiating off the man. He quickly backed away from the bed, collected his empty medical supplies, and bolted out the door.The room fell back into the rhythmic, mechanical silence of the machines.Ten minutes later, the heavy door opened again.Marco walked inside. He did not carry a weapon in his hand. He carried a small white ceramic cup.Marco walked directly to the small wooden table beside the armchair and set the cup down. The bitter smell of black espresso mixed
Forty eight hours had passed.The master bedroom no longer resembled a sanctuary. It looked exactly like a sterile intensive care unit. The heavy scent of dark cologne and woodsmoke had been completely erased, replaced by the sharp, metallic smell of clinical antiseptic and rubbing alcohol.A tall steel pole stood at the side of the mattress, holding three separate clear bags of intravenous fluids. A portable oxygen concentrator hummed loudly in the corner of the room, pushing a steady stream of air through the clear plastic tube taped beneath her nose. The sharp, mechanical beep of the heart monitor cut through the dead silence every single second.Killian sat in the leather armchair beside the bed.He had not moved in two days.He had not slept. He had not showered. His black suit jacket was thrown over the back of the sofa across the room. The sleeves of his dark dress shirt were rolled up to his elbows, exposing the thick layer of tattooed ink covering his forearms. The top three
Killian stared at him. The words seemed to hang in the freezing air between them."It presents like heavy metal exposure or a slow-acting synthetic compound," the doctor explained quickly, his hands shaking slightly as he opened a plastic package to draw blood. "It mimics severe fatigue and lethargy while it slowly attacks the central nervous system. I need to take this sample to the lab immediately to identify the exact toxin, but we have to stabilize her right now. Her organs are beginning to struggle."Killian slowly turned his head. His pale gray eyes locked onto the motionless body lying in his bed.His wife.Someone inside his house, inside his heavily guarded fortress, had been quietly poisoning his wife every single day while he was away. Someone had slipped a lethal dose into her daily routine—her water, her meals, her medicine.A cold, absolute stillness settled over Killian’s body. It was far more dangerous than anger. It was t
The light finally won.It pierced through my eyelids even when they were closed, a searing white lance that felt like it was cooking my brain inside my skull.I didn't know how long I'd been standing. My legs weren't legs anymore. They were columns that had stopped holding weight, nerves screaming s
I stared at her. Here? In the hallway?"Strip!" she shrieked, raising her hand. "Or I will call the guards to cut the clothes off you!"I stripped with shaking hands.Pulled off the wet t-shirt. Stepped out of the sweatpants. I stood in the cold hallway in my underwear, my arms wrapping around my br
The floor was clean.My hand was ruined.It was nine in the morning.I'd been scrubbing for an hour with my left hand while my right hand throbbed with a pulse so violent it felt like a second heart beating in my palm. Every heartbeat sent fresh waves of fire radiating up my arm.The adrenaline that
The water shut off.Silence rushed back into the bathroom, broken only by the harsh, wet gasps tearing from my throat.I sat on the tiled floor of the shower, my back pressed against the cold wall, my legs drawn up to my chest. My wet hair hung in heavy ropes around my face, dripping pink water onto







