Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 81 - Chapitre 87

WARNING: This chapter contains sensitive mature content. Reader discretion is advised. Lev Dmitri Romanov’s Point of View When I was a child, the sound of my parents fighting was as familiar as rain on our windowpane. And when their voices rose like thunder, it was always my brother who pulled me close, shielding me from the storm. “How many times must I tell you to stop coming through that door with blood staining your shirt? Maximo— listen to me for once! Stop exposing our boys to this life—they’re too young!” “I was their age when I first held a gun.” “I don’t understand you! What was the point of leaving the main Romanov mansion if you’ll just bring this darkness home to us? You’ll terrify them—” “This is our life, Yelenaiah. No matter how far you run to hide them from what our family is, they’ll always be bound to serve it. You can’t protect them forever. Even if you fled to the ends of the earth with my sons, my enemi

WARNING: This chapter contains sensitive content. Reader discretion is advised. Lev Dmitri Romanov’s Point of View They didn’t feed us. For three days, they kept at Mother like that—and for three days, my brother and I went without food. My head throbbed so badly I thought I’d pass out. Sometimes I’d slam my skull against the cage bars just to numb the pain, to make everything go quiet. They tortured her with their assaults, only feeding her when she’d grown too weak to fight back—then starting all over again. For us, the torture was the sound of her screams, the sight of her suffering. It cut through my chest like glass. There were moments I wished I’d gone blind, or deaf. I huddled in the corner, arms wrapped around my knees, shoulders shaking. My head hung low as I tried to ignore the gnawing in my stomach—but I couldn’t hold on much longer. My brother noticed. He’d always been the strong one, talking to our captors like he didn’t

WARNING: This chapter contains mature content not suitable for young readers. Please proceed with discretion. Third Person’s Point of View “W-We shouldn’t be doing this! God, Lebi might wake up.” Marimar bit down on her lip, her palms flat against the bedroom floor—elevated a few steps above the main living space, with the door wide open to where their son slept just feet away. She’d protested more than once, but desire had won out; Lev had agreed to hold off on his earlier suggestion, promising to wait for a safer time. Instead, they’d found themselves here. “Hush now… let me take care of you, wife. It’ll be quick.” Lev grinned, kneeling on one knee as he gazed up at her bare lower half. His eyes were dark with hunger, fixed on the soft, flushed curves of her body—her full hips arched slightly as she leaned forward on trembling arms, every muscle tight with anticipation and worry. Marimar was about to turn and argue again when she f

Third Person’s Point of View Lev’s expression was dark as he descended the steps of his private plane, his frame carrying nothing but himself—and the weapons hidden beneath his clothes. [ "Dolzhny li my dvigat'sya seychas, boss?" ][ "Should we move now, boss?" ] Blending seamlessly with the crowd streaming out of the airport, Lev had his hands in his pockets, fingers idly playing with the ring that concealed a blade. "Da, konechno. Izbegay smerti.""Yeah, sure. Avoid dying." His reply to his father’s man crackled through the earpiece at his neck. He boarded a train bound for the location where his brother was holed up. With every passing minute, his eyes drifted to the watch on his wrist—a mini monitor linked to the tracker embedded in Psikh’s body. A device designed to signal if he was close to death… or already gone. Lev let out a sharp whistle. Psikh’s vitals showed no signs of serious injury; his pulse was elev