She said it was the same for her.
I believed her.
I'm such a fucking fool.
"We need to be very careful about how we handle this," Maksim says, his voice carefully modulated. "It's better we keep what we know to ourselves until we have more information. Until we've defined our strategy for approaching the situation."
Strategy. Caution. Planning.
The words make sense. I know they make sense. Maksim is right. We should investigate further. Gather evidence. Build a complete picture before confronting her.
But I can't.
The rage is rising in my chest like a living thing. Hot. Consuming. Demanding outlet.
She lied to us. Used us. Played us. Made us care about her while she was orchestrating our destruction.
And last night, she let us touch her. Let us worship her body. Let us believe we were building the real thing while she was probably laughing at how easily we fell for her act.
The humiliation burns worse than the betrayal.
I can feel my hands shaking again. Can feel the red mist descending. The rage that lives in my bones demanding release.
I need answers. Not later. Not after investigation and careful planning.
Now.
"Fuck that," I snarl, shoving away from the window.
"Alexei, wait—" Maksim starts.
But I'm already moving. Already storming toward the door. Already past the point where reason can reach me.
I throw open the office door and roar into the hallway with everything I have.
"VICTORIA!"
The sound echoes through the house. Bounces off marble and glass. Carries up the stairs to wherever she's hiding.
Behind me, I hear Maksim curse. Hear Zakhar's chair scrape as he stands.
But I don't stop. Don't slow down. Don't think about strategy or consequences or anything except the need to look her in the eye and demand the truth.
"VICTORIA!" I bellow again, taking the stairs two at a time.
My heart is hammering. My vision has narrowed to a tunnel. Every muscle in my body is coiled for confrontation.
I gave her everything. We all did. And if she threw that away, if she chose to betray us, I need to know. Need to hear her say it. Need to see her face when she admits what she's done.
"VICTORIA!"
I don't care who hears. Don't care about discretion or maintaining appearances or any of the careful control Maksim values so highly.
I just need her. Need the truth. Need this crushing weight of uncertainty and betrayal to resolve into a fight I can win or a wound I can cauterize.
My footsteps thunder through the hallway. My breathing is ragged. My hands are clenched so tight my nails are cutting into my palms.
And somewhere in this house, the woman who might have destroyed us is about to face three men who just realized they've been played.
