Nikolai drags me through hallways and stairwells until we’re behind another door.
It’s his room—but it’s… different.
Warmer. Cleaner. A pillow sits stacked neatly on the bed, and the blankets are folded in a way that makes it look as if he’s been waiting for me.
I freeze, yanking my arm out of his grip. “You brought me here after—after that?” The words scrape out, raw and broken.
He barely reacts. Just shuts the door and settles against it, the gun still dangling from his hand. “If you had waited, malyshka, you would have wanted to come here by choice.” Histone is matter-of-fact, like he didn’t just take the only thing I had left.
My fight.
“I was always going to take you here. You didn’t need him. You don’t need anyone but me.”
My blood runs cold. “I get it. You like me and that’s cute, but I don’t care.” My hand smacks against the back of his bedroom door, right beside his body. “I want to go home.”
His expression hardens, but his body doesn’t waver. “Adrian will live because of your decision, but I would have gladly killed him because he touched what’s mine.” He steps forward now, making me retreat. “You keep trying to give pieces of yourself away, and I won’t allow it. Not to him. Not to anyone. You will never leave here, Aurelia. You will never leave me. I will not give you the choice.”
I take another shaky step back, clutching the oversized hoodie around me with blood-stained hands. “You’re insane.”
“Maybe.” He shrugs, finally setting his gun on the table. “But I’ve been preparing this room for you. Piece by piece. So when the time came, you’d have a place that’s yours. A place where no one can touch you. Not my father. Not my men. Not even you can fuck it up.”
I stare at the second pillow, the neatly folded blankets, the faint scent of my shampoo from the bathroom. My stomach twists so sharply I think I might vomit again.
Adrian’s body is probably split open and stitched in the cage downstairs, and Nikolai’s up here… planning my fucking sleeping arrangements?
I want to scream. I want to claw his face off. I want to curl into that bed and pretend this isn’t my life.
But all I can do is whisper, broken and bitter, “I will never be yours.”
Chapter 48
Nikolai
The sound of her scream when the bullet tore through him stayed with me. It was jagged and made me question if something cut deeper than the shot itself.
Her face in that moment—tears cutting through the blood, sweats sliding off her hips, bare skin trembling—it destroyed me and completed me all at once. She hated me. God, she hated me. But hate meant she felt me. Hate means she won’t be able to erase me.
I probably should’ve shot her too, that’s what my father would have done. It would’ve been cleaner. Viktor will demand explanations. My men will whisper. But I don’t care, if they want to die too, I will gladly assist with that.
I’ve been preparing for her all along. Every detail in my—our—room, every item I brought in, all so she would never need anyone but me. And still… she used someone else to fulfil her need.
Adrian wasn’t strong enough to keep her alive. But I am.
I’m the only one who can.
The second she stepped into my life, she was mine.
And I’ll keep killing until she finally admits it.
I left her in the room to cool down, her eyes still wide from what she had witnessed. She tried to speak, tried to throw wordsat me, but I ignored them. She didn’t need to understand yet. She wasn’t ready.
The fit she threw after I walked out was loud, messy, and human. And I let her. I knew she needed it, needed to feel out the chaos I had left in her life. I let her scream, let her throw what little control she had against the walls. It didn’t matter. She would calm eventually, and when she did, she would realize that everything that had happened wasn’t random. Her world had shifted, and I was at the centre of it.
I move through the halls with silent authority, my men parting instinctively as I pass, their eyes lingering on the room behind me.
My father would be expecting me in the council room. He would demand reports, explanations, and, of course, loyalty.
I had delivered on my tasks, cleaned up the mess, and secured my position—but now it was time to play the larger game. The Orlov empire wasn’t run by emotions, not entirely. Decisions had to be made, deals brokered, and threats managed.
