I stop eating after the second day. The food is untouched when they bring more, and untouched again when they take it away. I drink water, because I have to, but hunger gnaws at me, sharpening my edges. The guards don’t comment, though I see their eyes flicker when they collect the plates.
When one tries to joke, I snap. The words spill sharp and fast, my voice slicing through the room like a blade. I tell him if he looks at me again, I’ll gouge his eyes out with the fork still on the tray. The silence that follows is satisfying, even as the door slams harder than usual when he leaves.
Time stretches long and taut. I spend hours at the window, fingernails raw from scraping at the latch, trying every angle to pry it loose. Nothing gives.
The door is the same: I rattle the handle until my palms bruise, wedge sheets through the gap, even throw my shoulder into it. Futile. It doesn’t move. The walls are thick. The estate is built to hold people in as much as it is to keep people out.
By the time Alexei comes again, I’m already coiled tight.
The door opens, and his presence fills the room before his voice does. Tall, deliberate, he moves as though the air itselfparts for him. He doesn’t look at the untouched food. He doesn’t look at the bruises on my hands. His eyes find mine and hold there, calm, too calm.
“How long do you think you can keep this up?” he asks, voice quiet.
“As long as it takes,” I snap.
His mouth curves faintly, humorless. “You think hunger makes you stronger?”
“It makes me free. I won’t swallow what you give me.”
The words land sharper than I mean them to, but I don’t regret it. My chest is heaving already, my pulse too fast.
“You sound like a child,” he says evenly. “Fighting simply because you don’t like the rules.”
The laugh that bursts from me is raw, jagged. “You think this is about rules? You think this is discipline?” My hands curl into fists. “You are no different than the men who destroyed my life. You hide behind wealth and power, but underneath it, you’re the same rot. You take and you kill, and you think it makes you a king.”
For the first time, his calm wavers. Only slightly, but I see the tightening of his jaw, the faint narrowing of his eyes.
“Careful,” he says.
I step closer, the chain at my ankle clinking faintly. “Careful of what? You don’t scare me, Alexei. Not anymore. You may think you’ve won, but I’ll never stop trying to destroy what you’ve built. Never.”
His voice hardens, cutting like a blade. “You speak as though your father’s blood absolves you. As though his death justifies everything.”
I lunge at the words. “It does. He was murdered because of you, because of your family. I willneverstop until you pay for it.”
His silence this time is heavy. The tension between us thickens, dangerous. My chest is tight, breath shallow, fury boiling so hot I can’t keep it contained.
My eyes flick around the room. The first thing I see is a decorative bottle on the dresser, cut crystal, gleaming under the low light. Before I can think, before I can stop, I grab it.
The glass is cold and heavy in my hand. I smash it against his forearm with all the strength in me. The crack of impact rings out, sharp, followed by the sound of glass breaking.
He grunts, blood streaking where shards cut into his skin.
I expect him to recoil, to curse, maybe to hit me back. He doesn’t.
He grabs me.
It’s fast, violent. His hand clamps around my wrist, yanking me forward, his body closing the space between us before I can swing again. I twist, kick, fight, but he’s stronger, his grip like iron. The shattered glass falls from my hand as he slams me back against the wall, the impact rattling through my bones.
“Enough,” he growls, his breath hot against my face.
I struggle, my wrists pinned high against the wall, his body crowding mine. The chain at my ankle pulls taut, useless. My chest heaves, my voice sharp. “Let me go!”
He doesn’t. His eyes burn into mine, dark, furious, but controlled. His jaw is set, blood dripping from the cuts on his arm, staining his shirt.
We’re both breathing hard, faces close, lips inches apart. The fury between us hums, tangled with something else neitherof us wants to name. My pulse hammers, my body tense, but I don’t pull away.
He leans in closer, as if daring me to flinch.
