Viktor silently led me inside through the curtain of men.
Oh, shit.
Chapter Twelve
Viktor's POV
The only reason behind my calm as I went in through the back door was Emilia's presence. I had to hold in my anger because the last thing I wanted was to make her fret any more than she already was. My arms remained around her as we ascended the stairs. She wasn't shaking, but I could feel the occasional trembling that rocked her body. If that wasn't clear enough as a tell, her silence was another proof of how shocked and scared she was.
One of the things I'd learnt in our few weeks of marriage was that her silence, more often than not, came at the height of her emotions. Whether it was anger or fear, it was dead serious if Emilia was being silent about it.
The fact that I didn’t know the sweet, comforting words to say to her in that moment added another layer of annoyance to my increasing anger.
She went ahead into our bedroom as I opened the door. I stood at the doorway, watching as she strolled towards her side of the bed.
I’ll kill these fuckers, whoever they are.
“Emilia,” I called, my tone low.
She settled with her back to the headboard before turning to face me, her face surprisingly calm.
“You’re safe. Trust me,” I told her, my voice somewhere between certain and pleading, maybe even apologetic.
She nodded twice in response.
She’s trying to be strong.
Yet, it was the absence of anger or sadness in her expression that tugged at me and made my eyes fall.
She trusts me.
But that doesn’t mean she isn’t terrified.
She was pulling the blanket closer to her body.
I should be comforting her, not a fucking blanket.
But I must make sure the culprit has been taken down.
I wanted to wrap my body around her until she felt safe. But I wouldn’t be able to breathe properly if whoever breached my grounds is still out there.
“Look at me,” I persuaded, and she did as I said.
“You’re safe.”
She pursed her lips as she nodded again.
It took no small amount of control not to barrel towards the bed. And a thought of the different torture mechanisms to employ in teaching the attackers a lesson.
“I’ll be back,” I told her as I opened the door again.
It only took being two steps away from our bedroom door for my fury to resurface.
The confidence it took for anyone, even a large crime cartel, to think of attacking a Pakhan’s residence bordered on madness. The whole estate was the Bratva’s stronghold; the silliest layman knew it was heavily guarded. My anger went beyond the fact that it happened. After all, it wasn’t the first time people had fulfilled their death wishes by breaching the grounds.
But Emilia wasn’t in the picture on those occasions. An attack meant something different altogether now. Each attack felt more personal, like someone was challenging my ability to protect my wife.
It annoyed me to no end that anyone would make her feel the slightest bit of fear in my house. It was totally unacceptable.
