But the risk is too high. Not for me. For the women depending on secrecy for survival. For Era, still trapped in Ramiz Krasniqi's house. For every single person the furies have helped escape over the past five years.
I can't gamble their safety on my instincts about three men I've known for weeks.
And finally, because my mind apparently wants to torture me tonight, I let myself think about what happened with Zakhar.
I've been hiding in this room for hours. Avoiding the common areas. Avoiding him. Avoiding the conversation we'll eventually have to have about what happened in the security room.
But avoiding the memory is impossible.
Every movement I make, I feel echoes of his hands. Every breath carries the phantom scent of his skin. The places where he touched me still tingle, still burn, still ache with wanting more.
I should be horrified.
He bent me over a desk. He spanked me. He ripped my underwear.
I should be disgusted. Ashamed. At minimum, disturbed by how much I liked it.
Why am I not?
The question circles through my head without finding an answer.
For years, I've flinched from male touch. Built walls so high that even innocent contact felt like a threat.
And then Zakhar put his hand on my throat, and I melted.
He spanked me, and I got wetter.
He commanded me to come, and I did. Twice. Without hesitation. Without fear.
What does that say about me?
I craved it. Craved him. His control felt like freedom. His dominance felt like safety. The moment he took charge, the tight knot in my chest finally loosened.
But I'm married to Maksim.
And there's Alexei. And the word he whispered against my lips.
Share.
How can I want all three of them? How can my body respond to each of them with equal intensity, equal hunger, equal desperation?
Normal women don't fantasize about being shared like some kind of prize between three dangerous men.
Maybe I stopped being normal a long time ago.
After Zakhar finished with me in the security room, he composed himself with military efficiency. Helped me straighten my dress, smoothed my hair, guided me to my room without a single word.
But his eyes were blazing. Green fire that I couldn't read but felt burning through every layer of defense I'd ever built.
Then he left.
And I've been hiding ever since.
Enough.
I sit up in bed, decision made. I'm done hiding. Done cowering in this room while my life spirals further out of control.
Whatever comes next, I'll face it directly. That's how I've survived everything else.
