The clock glared at me. 7:12 PM.
"Shit."
I groaned and shoved myself up from the cold floor, my body stiff and heavy, like it had been filled with wet cement. My mouth was dry, the taste of pills bitter under my tongue. Another panic attack. Another goddamn nightmare.
It was always the same. Twisted in the details, sure, but the feeling? That never changed. Cold, paralyzing, like my own mind was trying to eat me alive. I used to scream myself awake. Now I just… endured.
I dragged my legs into the bathroom and turned on the cold tap. Water rushed out like it was in a hurry to leave too. I splashed it on my face, again and again until the sting brought me back. I leaned into the mirror, water dripping off my chin, and just stared.
The slap mark was faint now. A smudge of red near my jawline. Not even impressive. Just enough to be remembered.
I studied it like it was proof of something. That I still existed, maybe. That I hadn't dissolved completely into whatever hole my father tried to shove me into.
Or maybe it was just humiliation, still clinging to me like perfume I couldn't scrub off.
I pulled myself together. Fast. Mechanical. Clothes—dark and sleek. Low-key, but still screaming wealth if you looked too long. A chain around my neck, rings on my fingers, scent warm and dangerous.
I looked like someone who made choices.
When I stepped out of the room, he was there. Of course he was.
Viktor leaned against the hallway wall like a goddamn statue. Didn't flinch. Didn't move. Just… watched.
Like he knew.
I hated how he looked at me. Not with pity—worse. Like he saw everything, and decided none of it surprised him.
"Where are you going?" he asked, voice calm.
I sneered walking past him"Out. Not that it's your business."
He didn't argue. Just pushed off the wall and followed.
That pissed me off even more.
I wanted him to snap. To argue. To remind me of his orders. At least then I could throw something, scream, do something. But the silence? The quiet way he followed me like a shadow?
That made me want to set the whole building on fire.
Downstairs, the driver was waiting. Same routine. Same silence. I slipped into the backseat, Viktor slid in beside me like he'd done it a hundred times.
No questions. No words. Just there.
I stared out the window, fingers tapping my thigh, mind buzzing. I'd ditch him. Somehow. I always found a way. I had tricks. Holes in the plan. Cracks to slip through.
Tonight wasn't just time with Aisha. It was air. It was space. It was mine. And I'd be damned if I let some blonde gargoyle with a license to kill ruin that. From the corner of my eye, I watched him—stoic, unreadable, too calm.
….
The hotel gleamed like it always did—too polished, too perfect. It reeked of old money and fresh secrets. I hated how familiar it felt, like I belonged here, when all I wanted was to forget I ever did. The car rolled to a stop, and I didn't wait for the door. I pushed it open myself, eager to slip into something that wasn't my father's house or that suffocating penthouse.
But just as I stepped onto the curb, someone crossed in front of me.
He was dressed like a man trying too hard to disappear—hood drawn, jacket too big, head down. He moved like a shadow, smooth, unbothered. Until he wasn't.
I saw the glint a second too late.
My body jolted, brain catching up to the movement. The man lunged, arm slicing through the air—blade in hand, aimed straight for my throat. But he never reached me.
There was a sickening crack.
Viktor.
He moved faster than thought. One second he was behind me, the next he had the guy's wrist twisted in a grotesque angle, the knife clattering to the ground like a broken promise.
The man screamed. Loud. Desperate.
"You monsters!" he shrieked, voice hoarse with something worse than anger. "He killed my son like he was nothing! I've waited months—I waited for you, Kurov-Shin!"
My lungs burned. Not from the near-death. Not from the blade.
From his eyes. The way they locked on me like I was already a ghost. Guards surged in, grabbing him from all sides, trying to wrestle him down. But he wasn't done.
"Nikolai!" he screamed. "That was my son's name! You remember it, you little shit! Nikolai Gregorov! My only boy!"
I didn't remember.
God, I didn't remember.
I turned away before my knees gave out. My palms were slick, breath ragged. People were watching now—whispers rising like smoke. The man's voice followed me like it had been sewn into the air.
I didn't need this. Not tonight. Not again.
But of course—he followed.
Viktor.
Like death's fucking shadow.
I was halfway to the elevator when he grabbed my wrist.
"What the fuck are you—" I spat, yanking at his grip.
"You can't go in there," he said, voice calm. Flat. "Your security's compromised."
I stared at him. He was so still. Like he hadn't just broken someone.
"You think I care?" I hissed. "Let him kill me next time. Do us all a favor."
His eyes didn't flinch. Didn't pity. Just watched me. And that was worse.
Viktor didn't let go.
His grip stayed firm on my wrist—cold, precise, infuriatingly steady. No emotion. No hesitation. Just that same unreadable face, like a marble statue carved from ice.
I yanked a little. "Let go," I growled, teeth clenched.
He didn't move.
Oh, so this was how it was going to be?
I leaned in, voice low and sharp. "Didn't Daddy dearest hire you to protect me?" I spat. "To shield me from the big bad wolves? So why are you suddenly so eager to run away after one tiny little incident? Or are you just like the rest—cowards who crumble at the first sight of blood?"
Still, nothing. Not even a twitch. That pissed me off more.
I stepped even closer, our bodies nearly brushing. "my father doesn't like men who run, you know. He likes strength. Spine. Not little lapdogs who cower the moment things get inconvenient."
Viktor blinked once. Then let go.
I rolled my wrist out of his grasp and pushed past him, heart pounding. The burn from the man's voice still echoed in my ears—"Remember my son's name." I shoved the thought down.
The hotel's VVIP floor was empty, silent, pristine. We stopped at a dark wood door, familiar. I knocked twice.
Aisha opened, half-startled when she spotted Viktor behind me.
"good evening Ms" he bowed slightly but his tone remained ice.
I gave her a charming smile. "Ignore the bastard."
Then I turned to Viktor, flashing him a bright, fake smile. "You're not planning on watching too, are you? Or did my father pay you to monitor how I fuck as well?"
He didn't respond. Good. I slammed the door right in his face.