But as Anka moved closer, as her face tilted up toward his with the kind of invitation he’d been craving for weeks, Viktor found himself stepping back instead of forward.
“We should get inside,” he said, his voice rougher than he’d intended. “You’ll catch a cold.”
Confusion flickered across Anka’s features, followed by something that looked like hurt. The openness that had characterized her expression all day shuttered closed, her walls rebuilding themselves with practiced efficiency.
“Of course,” she said, her tone returning to the careful neutrality that had been driving him insane for weeks. “You’re right. Thank you again for today.”
She was moving toward the house before he could respond, her posture straight and composed despite what had to be crushing disappointment. Viktor stood in the driveway longer than necessary, watching her retreat and trying to convince himself he’d made the right choice.
The plan was still the plan. His anger was still there, buried beneath layers of complicated emotions, but fundamentally unchanged. Anka had played with his heart once before, had chosen her family’s approval over their relationship, had disappeared without giving him the chance to fight for what they’d had.
None of today’s joy changed those facts. None of her genuine gratitude or infectious happiness erased the months of devastation he’d endured after she’d vanished from his life.
But as Viktor finally followed her into the house, as he listened to her footsteps fade up the staircase, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d just made a terrible mistake. Not because stepping back had been wrong, but because for the first time in four years, revenge had felt less important than something else entirely.
And he had absolutely no idea what to do with that realization.
Chapter 17 - Anka
The rejection carved itself into her bones.
Anka stood under the scalding spray of her en suite shower, letting water hot enough to redden her skin wash away the phantom sensation of Viktor’s proximity. She could still feel the echo of that moment—the way he’d looked at her like she was everything he’d ever wanted before stepping back like she carried some contagious disease.
Stupid. She was so monumentally stupid for thinking today had changed anything between them.
The skydiving had been perfect. For four hours, she’d been herself again—the woman who craved freedom and found it in defying gravity, who could exist without constantly calculating how her actions might inconvenience or endanger the men in her life. Viktor had given her that, had learned something terrifying and foreign just to share it with her, and she’d foolishly interpreted his gesture as evidence that he might actually care.
The water was beginning to run cold by the time she finally emerged, wrapping herself in a towel that felt inadequate against the chill that had nothing to do with temperature. Her reflection in the bathroom mirror showed the aftermath of the day—wind-tangled hair, sun-flushed cheeks, eyes bright with the kind of exhilaration that only came from falling through empty sky.
She looked alive in ways she’d forgotten were possible, which made Viktor’s rejection sting even worse.
Anka dressed mechanically, pulling on pajamas that covered every inch of skin despite being alone in her room. The careful distance Viktor had maintained since their weddingnight had taught her to be invisible again, to take up as little space as possible in his home and his life. Today had been an aberration, a brief glimpse of what might have been possible if they were different people with a different history.
But they weren’t different people. She was still the woman who’d ghosted him without explanation, who’d chosen her family’s threats over fighting for what they’d had. And he was still the man who’d married her for revenge, who saw her as a puzzle to solve or a debt to collect rather than a person worth loving.
The reminder should have reinforced her walls, should have made it easier to retreat into the careful compliance that had kept her safe for weeks. Instead, it made her furious.
Anka found herself pacing the confines of her bedroom, restless energy crackling through her veins like electricity seeking ground. The day had awakened something she’d thought permanently dormant—the part of her that refused to accept limitations, that had always pushed against boundaries even when pushing back meant pain.
She’d spent four years believing that leaving Viktor had been the right choice, the only choice that would keep him alive. Adrian’s threats had been explicit and terrifying, backed by the kind of casual violence that characterized their world. But tonight, with the taste of freedom still sharp on her tongue and the memory of Viktor’s careful consideration of her interests fresh in her mind, she found herself questioning everything.
What if Adrian had been lying about the Nikolais being small fish? What if she’d sacrificed the only real happiness she’d ever known for nothing more than her brother’s manipulative power play?
The thought was devastating because it felt true. Adrian had controlled her through fear, had isolated her from the one person who’d ever seen her completely, and chosen to stay anyway. And she’d let him, had been so terrified of losing Viktor that she’d ensured the loss herself.
The irony would have been amusing if it weren’t destroying her from the inside out.
Anka grabbed her laptop from the bedside table and settled cross-legged on her bed, fingers flying over the keyboard with the kind of desperate efficiency that came from having a purpose. She’d spent years avoiding research that might contradict Adrian’s version of events, too afraid of what she might discover. But fear was a luxury she could no longer afford.
The internet painted a different picture of the Nikolai family than the one Adrian had sold her. They weren’t small fish struggling for relevance—they were apex predators who’d built an empire through strategic alliances and calculated violence. Their reach extended across multiple continents, their influence touching industries she hadn’t even known were connected to organized crime.
Viktor himself was a legend in certain circles, renowned for his intelligence and ruthlessness in equal measure. Business journals praised his innovative approaches to legitimate ventures while law enforcement files documented his family’s involvement in activities that existed in legal gray areas at best.
This was the man Adrian had dismissed as insignificant, the family he’d claimed would be easily eliminated if they posed a threat to Viktor’s safety. The lies were so blatant and obviously fabricated that Anka felt nauseated by her own gullibility.
She’d thrown away everything for nothing. Worse than nothing—she’d handed Adrian exactly the leverage he’d wantedwhile ensuring that Viktor would never trust her again. The perfect manipulation, executed flawlessly because she’d been too young and too scared to question the narrative she’d been fed.
The laptop screen blurred as tears she’d been holding back for hours finally spilled over. Anka closed the device with shaking hands and pressed her palms against her eyes, trying to contain the devastating certainty that she’d destroyed the best thing in her life based on lies designed to control her.
