And the last one, from two days ago:
I won’t tolerate this behavior much longer. You belong to me.
By the time I finish reading, my stomach is in knots, and there’s a pressure behind my eyes that tells me I’m about to cry.
I don’t let myself.
Instead, I pull up my sleeve, staring at the finger-shaped bruises Viktor left behind. They’re darker now, purpling at the edges. The outline of his fingers is clear, like a signature. A brand. Proof that he was here, that he touched me, that he could do it again anytime he wants.
Aren’t you worried about how far he’ll go?
Matteo’s question echoes in my head. I’ve been telling myself Viktor would get bored, find someone new, move on. But what if he doesn’t? What if next time he doesn’t just grab my arm? What if he follows me home? What if he?—
I can’t finish the thought. My chest constricts, making it hard to breathe.
I close the curtains with shaking hands, double-check the locks on my door, turn on every light in the apartment. None of it helps. The fear lives inside me now, wrapped around my ribs like barbed wire.
Viktor isn’t going to stop. The realization settles in my bones like lead. He sees me as his property, something he owns. My feelings, my choices, my right to say no—none of that matters to him.
I flop back down on the couch and press the heels of my hands against my eyes. I will not cry. I refuse to cry over Viktor Ilyin. He’s taken enough from me already.
But the tears come anyway, hot and silent, sliding down my cheeks before I can stop them.
I think about Matteo’s proposal. God, what kind of person am I that I’m actually considering this insane plan? Marriage to astranger who carries a gun and talks about “handling” people like it’s nothing.
But when he walked me home tonight, I felt safer than I have in months. His presence beside me was solid and warm, a wall between me and anything that might want to hurt me. He didn’t touch me, didn’t crowd me, just positioned himself between me and the street, like he was already protecting me without being asked.
And in that alley, when he had his hand over my mouth and his body pressed against mine... my traitorous body had responded in ways that had nothing to do with fear. Heat spreading low in my belly. My breath coming short even after the adrenaline faded.
I’m attracted to him. There’s no point in denying it. Even now, sitting alone in my apartment with tear tracks drying on my cheeks, I can still feel the ghost of his fingers on my arm. Gentle. Careful. Nothing like Viktor’s bruising grip.
But attraction is dangerous. Attraction is how I ended up in this mess in the first place.
I trusted Viktor. I let him into my life, my bed, my heart. I believed him when he said he loved me, when he promised to take care of me, when he looked at me with those dark eyes and told me I was special.
And then he turned. Like a switch had been flipped. One day he was charming and attentive, and the next he was cold and cruel, controlling every aspect of my life, punishing me for imagined slights, making me feel small and stupid and worthless.
What if Matteo is the same?
What if this is just another cage dressed up as protection?
I pull my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them. My apartment suddenly feels too quiet. Too empty. I want to call someone. My mom. My brother. My best friend, Annika.
But what would I say?Hey, so my stalker ex is getting worse and a stranger offered to marry me for protection and I’m actually considering it because I’m terrified and don’t know what else to do?
Yeah. That would go over great.
My phone buzzes again, interrupting my spiral. This time it’s a text from an unknown number.
I saw you tonight. You know I don’t like it when you talk to other men.
The blood drains from my face. Viktor was watching. He saw me with Matteo.
My hands shake so hard I can barely type back:Leave me alone.
The response comes immediately:We both know you don’t mean that.
I shove the phone under a cushion, like not seeing the words will make them less true.
