I couldn't stop thinking about Viktor

Anya pov.The mansion felt different after Vlan’s death, as if the walls themselves were mourning. It was quieter, heavier. I wandered through the halls, trying to shake the unease that had settled deep in my chest. But no matter how hard I tried, the feeling wouldn’t leave. I found myself drifting toward the quieter parts of the house—the ones no one seemed to use. Maybe I needed space to think, or maybe I was just looking for something, anything, that could make sense of the chaos Viktor’s world had thrown me into. It was in one of those halls that I heard the voice. “…his strength finally snapped. We’ll see how long it takes for him to crumble.” I froze. The voice belonged to Anton. He was speaking in hushed tones, his back to me, phone pressed to his ear. My heart started to race. Those words—they felt loaded, dangerous. Anton paused, listening to whoever was on the other end of the line. Then he muttered something I couldn’t cat

This is the price of trust

Viktor pov.The walls of my office were suffocating, shadows creeping in from every corner. A half-empty glass of whiskey sat on the table, untouched. It had no effect anymore—not after Vlan. His death gnawed at me relentlessly, sharp and unforgiving. “Vlan… otets,” I muttered, my voice hoarse. (Father.) That’s what he’d been to me in every way that mattered. And now, he was gone—stripped from me by enemies who thought they could outmaneuver me. The pills sat on the desk, I grabbed the bottle, shaking two into my hand. The bitterness burned down my throat as I swallowed them dry.It didn’t matter. What mattered was vengeance. A knock interrupted the stillness. My muscles tensed. “Come in,” I barked, my voice colder than I intended. Yuvi entered, his face grim. His expression told me everything—he wasn’t here for pleasantries. In his hands was a folder, thick with papers I didn’t want to see. “Pakhan,” he started, tone cautious, “

He’d kill her, Viktor

Anya pov.The air in the hall was suffocating, heavy with judgment and the weight of Viktor’s fury. I knelt on the cold marble floor, my heart pounding so hard I thought it would break through my ribs. Every pair of eyes in the room was on me, their silence more terrifying than any shout or accusation.Viktor stood towering above me, the embodiment of power and anger. His icy blue eyes burned with a fire I’d never seen before, and his grip on the folder trembled slightly—just enough for me to catch. He was holding himself together by a thread, and I knew that thread was about to snap.“”Skazhite im,” he growled, his voice low but deadly. (Tell them.)His Russian was sharper now, slicing through the room like a blade.“I didn’t do anything,” I said, my voice cracking. It was the truth, but I could see it in his eyes—he didn’t believe me.The man I’d spent months trying to understand, the man who had let me see the pain behind his cold exterior, was g

I can prove what I am saying

Viktor pov.The room was deathly silent. The kind of silence that wasn’t peace—it was the calm before a storm. I stood at the center of it, my presence heavy, commanding. Around me, faces flickered between rage and confusion. And Anya—my kukolka—knelt on the cold marble, clutching her trembling hands as if holding herself together.I should have felt anger, and I did, but it was layered with something far worse—doubt. Was she telling the truth? My instincts warred with logic. Instinct told me to trust her, but logic whispered she’d betrayed me. She looked up at me, her tear-streaked face raw with desperation. “Viktor,” she began, her voice trembling but determined, “I can prove what I’m saying.” Irina scoffed from behind me. “Enough of this nonsense,” she snapped, her voice like the crack of a whip. “This girl is wasting our time. Her lies will only drag you down further. She needs to be eliminated.” “Babushka, zatknis’,” (Grandmother, shut

Why does he care do much, if I was just a toy?

Anya pov.When Viktor told me to go to my room, I obeyed without hesitation, but my legs felt like they were made of lead. Every step down the hall seemed heavier than the last. I didn’t know if I was walking toward a safe space or my grave. The memory of Anton’s gun aimed at me still burned in my mind, his finger twitching, ready to end everything. I had never felt so close to death. For a moment, standing in that hall, surrounded by Viktor’s men, I thought I was going to die. Umeret’, the Russian word for death, floated in my mind. I had always imagined it as something distant, a shadow in the corner of my life, but tonight it had stood in front of me, inches away. I’d seen the look in Viktor’s eyes when he dragged me in front of everyone—anger, betrayal, and something deeper, something I couldn’t quite name. And yet, I hadn’t begged for my life. I couldn’t. To beg would have meant admitting guilt, and I wasn’t guilty—not in the way they thought

You will get engaged to Isabella tomorrow morning

Viktor pov.When I stepped into her room, the air shifted—like it always did around her. Anya sat at the edge of the bed, her hands twisting in her lap. She looked up as I entered, her wide eyes trying to read me, to gauge the storm brewing behind my expression. I didn’t waste time. “Tell me how I can recognize Celine,” I said, my voice sharper than I intended. Her brows furrowed in confusion, and she blinked like she hadn’t heard me right. “Celine?” she repeated, her voice soft, uncertain. I crossed the room. “Yes, Celine. Your friend,” I said, biting out each word. “The one you conveniently didn’t tell me about earlier.” Her lips parted as if to defend herself, but no words came out. She looked away, her fingers curling tightly in her lap. “I didn’t know how to bring it up…” “Try harder,” I snapped, my patience wearing thin. “If I’m going to save her, I need to know where to start.” Her head shot up, eyes wide with shock. “Save her?”