I switch off the lamp, sink into the bed, and drag the blanket around me. Sleep should come; exhaustion gnaws at my bones, heavy and relentless.
Yet my mind refuses quiet. Every time I close my eyes I see him framed in the doorway, his body filling the space, his voice rough with something too close to regret. I hear again the tremor in those three words—I didn’t know—and it slices through the armor I have built.
Hatred is easier. Hatred has always been my fuel, clean and sharp. Now it frays under something I cannot name. Something dangerous.
I roll onto my side, pressing my face into the pillow, determined to shut him out. My body betrays me. The heat lingers where his eyes touched me, as if his gaze alone could leave a mark. I remember his hands, the breadth of them, the way they stayed at his sides instead of reaching for me.
He’s grabbed me before, pushed me against walls, made me feel cornered by his presence. Tonight he didn’t touch me. The restraint unsettles me more than violence ever could.
Minutes stretch into hours. My body grows restless under the blanket, heat pooling low in my belly, shame curling sharp around it. I tell myself it’s anger, that it’s fury making me tremble, but the ache spreading through me knows the lie.
When sleep finally drags me under, it carries me into him. Not the monster I built in my mind, but the man as he stoodtonight: silent, fractured, a shadow carrying weight he could not lay down.
In the dream his hands finally touch me, rough palms sliding over my arms, pulling me close. His mouth is on mine, harsh at first, then lingering, coaxing me into a kiss that steals air from my lungs.
I jolt awake, heart pounding. My skin burns as if his lips still press against it. I lie motionless in the dark, waiting for the shame to smother the feeling. Instead the ache only grows sharper, need winding tight in my chest and low in my belly.
I bite down on the edge of the blanket, teeth clenching hard, as my hand drifts beneath the sheets. My body arches at the first touch, breath catching in my throat. I picture his mouth on my neck, his breath hot against my ear, his voice rough as he whispers those words again—I didn’t know. The sound of it vibrates through me, pulling me deeper into the haze.
My fingers move faster, chasing the heat blooming inside me. The dream spills over reality: his weight pressing me into the mattress, his hands spreading across my hips, his eyes burning into mine. I hear the growl in his throat, feel the scrape of stubble along my jaw as his lips claim me again and again.
Pleasure crests sharp and sudden, ripping a broken gasp from my lips. I clutch the pillow to my face, muffling the sound, body trembling as the wave crashes through me.
When it fades, I collapse against the sheets, chest heaving, shame coiling hard in my gut. My hand drifts away, damp with sweat, trembling. The reality sinks in heavy and merciless. I touched myself to him. The man I swore to destroy. The man I swore had stolen everything from me.
Guilt scorches through me, fierce enough to leave me shaking. I curl tight on my side, fists pressed to my mouth,choking down the sob that threatens. I promised myself I would not cry, and I hold to that vow. Yet tears burn behind my eyelids, begging release.
I stare into the darkness until my eyes blur, until exhaustion takes me again. Even then, I can’t shake the feeling of him—the heat of his hands, the scrape of his mouth, the tremor in his voice when he said those words that now haunt me.
When sleep finally returns, it is shallow and restless, every dream tangled in the ghost of his touch.
Morning light creeps through the curtains, pale and cold. I wake with guilt still burning in my chest, hot as acid. My stomach knots when I remember the sound I made, muffled against the pillow, the way I writhed beneath sheets that no longer feel like mine.
I sit up slowly, the blanket slipping to my waist, my body sore with tension. The guilt does not fade. It grows heavier with each breath. Yet beneath it, tangled in the shame, is something else I can’t shake: the memory of pleasure, sharp and vivid, leaving me raw with hunger I cannot name.
I drag myself to the bathroom, splash water on my face until my skin stings, trying to scrub away the evidence of what I did. The woman staring back at me in the mirror looks pale, eyes dark with secrets, mouth pressed into a hard line. I don’t recognize her.
Hatred should come easy. Hatred should devour what I felt in the night, burn it to ash. Instead the guilt entwines with something far more dangerous: longing.
I lean both hands against the sink, head bowed, breath ragged. My reflection waits silent above me, accusing. I whisper through clenched teeth, “Never again.”
The words sound weak even to me.
The file is still in the drawer. His father’s name still binds me to a truth I cannot deny. Alexei’s voice still echoes in my chest, rough and fractured, refusing to leave.
I step back into the room, body tense, resolve brittle as glass. My mind screams that he is still the enemy, still dangerous, still everything I should loathe. Yet the memory of his voice, his eyes, his phantom touch follows me like a shadow I cannot outrun.
I will not cry. I will not forgive. I will not forget what he has done.
Still, when I close my eyes, I feel his mouth against mine, and the guilt burns hotter for how much I crave it again.
Chapter Sixteen - Alexei
The monitors glow pale in the dark, the static hum of the feed the only sound in my office. It’s well past midnight when I notice movement on the screen. Her room. She’s on the floor, knees drawn to her chest, arms wrapped tight around herself. Her head is bowed, shoulders stiff like she’s holding the weight of something she can’t set down.
For a moment I stay where I am, staring at the image. I shouldn’t go to her. I’ve done enough damage. Yet my hand drifts toward the door before I can stop it.
The hall is silent as I walk, each step echoing louder than it should. I open her door without knocking. She doesn’t look up. Her face is half hidden behind her hair, but I hear the faint sound of her sniffle. The sound guts me more than any scream.
