Rostya straightens slowly, rising from the crouch he’s held for so long. He rolls his shoulders once, the movement deliberate, unhurried, but when his gaze lifts, it finds me in the doorway. The world seems to still. The fading sunlight gilds his features, sharp and merciless, but it’s the darkness in his eyes that roots me to the spot.
Hunger. Old, familiar, dangerous.
It’s the same look he wore in the beginning—the one that once struck terror through my veins, that promised conquest and possession.
Now it coils differently inside me. My pulse leaps, quick and hot, racing not only with memory but with a desire I can’tdeny. Fear and longing lace together until I can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.
His stride is steady, silent, each step across the grass as certain as a predator closing in. My breath tangles in my throat as he approaches, every instinct warning me, every nerve aching for him anyway. The garden, the mansion, the men—they all fall away until there is only the sound of his steps and the weight of his gaze pinning me in place.
Then he’s there.
His arm snakes around my waist in one swift motion, pulling me flush against him. The heat of his body slams into mine, hard, unyielding. I gasp, but the sound dies as his breath brushes my ear—warm, commanding, laced with that whisper of danger that has never left him.
“Karmia.” My name, spoken low, rough, almost a growl. A summons.
My chest tightens, sparks racing through every vein. The part of me that once trembled with fear still stirs, but it no longer drives me away. It drives me closer. My hands find his chest, pressing against solid muscle, and instead of pushing, I clutch, grounding myself in the power that once caged me.
I should resist. I should remember every vow I once made to never bend, never yield to this man who tore my life apart. The woman I was is gone, reshaped by fire and blood and the son who binds us together. Now, pressed against him, his strength burning into me, I want. Fiercely. Shamelessly.
His mouth brushes the line of my jaw, the scrape of his stubble against my skin sending a shiver down my spine. My body arches before I can stop it, a surrender I never thought I’d give willingly. But I do.
The predator still holds me, but the prey no longer trembles. I lean into him, into the danger and the heat, the choice now mine. The pulse of fear still lives in me, but it’s tangled so tightly with longing that I can’t tear them apart.
As his lips finally claim mine, rough and hungry, I press back just as fiercely—because this, terrifying as it is, has become the place I burn to be.
His lips crash against mine, the kiss dark and consuming, balancing on the knife’s edge between hunger and surrender. His hand presses harder at my waist, dragging me closer until my body fits against his with no space left between us. The world narrows to the heat of his mouth, the scrape of his stubble, the low sound he makes in his throat that vibrates straight through me.
It feels endless, unstoppable… until a child’s voice slices through the moment.
“Mama!” Damian’s call rings high and insistent, echoing through the hall beyond the doorway. Another burst of laughter follows, bright and oblivious, shattering the tension like glass.
I break away, breathless, my cheeks burning hot. My hands fumble at my dress, smoothing fabric over trembling fingers as though order could mask the fire still crackling under my skin. My chest rises fast, betraying me, and I bite down on a smile I can’t quite suppress.
Rostya doesn’t move back. He lingers close enough that I can feel his breath on my flushed skin. A smirk curves his mouth, slow and knowing, his eyes glinting with the triumph of a man who has lost nothing in my retreat. The predator in him looks utterly at ease, certain the prey is already his.
His lips brush just below my ear, the rough scrape of his voice following. “You will not escape me tonight.”
The words are a vow, low and sure, dangerous as every promise he has ever made. But they don’t frighten me anymore. Instead, heat coils low in my belly, anticipation sparking alive at the certainty in his tone.
I swallow hard, forcing air into my lungs, but he has already pulled back. His smirk lingers as he turns from me, crossing the garden with that unhurried stride that commands attention without demanding it. His shoulders are broad against the dimming sky, his silhouette cut in power and purpose.
Damian’s laughter rises again, pure and unguarded, as Rostya bends to scoop him up, toy clattering to the grass. Father and son against the wash of evening light, one so small and free, the other a giant whose hands have both destroyed and cradled lives.
It strikes me then, that I never wanted to run. The cage I once raged against has shifted, reshaped into something else entirely. I have influence here, power in the systems I’ve bent to my will. I have a voice that is heard, not silenced. I have love, fierce and unexpected, woven into the laughter of a child and the hunger in a man who once terrified me.
I have family.
The garden glows gold one last time before the sun sinks, shadows stretching long over the estate. Damian wriggles in his father’s arms, shrieking with laughter as Rostya hoists him high, the sound carrying through the air like a banner raised against the ghosts of the past.
I lean against the frame, lips curving in a soft smile I don’t try to hide. This world is dangerous. It always will be, but it’s mine now.
I wouldn’t have it any other way.
***
THE END
