“Indeed, you will.” Grey turned to the guards who had gathered outside the room. “Secure her separately. I want around-the-clock surveillance.”
“I’ll handle her personally,” Ivan volunteered, his tone leaving no room for argument. His hand came to rest on my shoulder, heavy and possessive.
Grey studied him for a long moment, suspicion evident in his gaze. “See that you do. And, Zotov? Don’t get too attached. She’s clearly too much for you to handle.”
“Got it,” Ivan replied evenly.
Something passed between them—some unspoken tension I couldn’t quite decipher. Grey’s lips thinned. “I’ll return tomorrow. We have much to discuss, Iset.” With one last predatory smile, he strode from the room toward the elevator, leaving a vacuum of tension behind him.
The moment he was gone, Mira rushed to me, throwing her arms around my neck. “Bella,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “What have you done?”
I hugged her tightly, breathing in her familiar scent. “What I had to do.”
“But now he knows,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “What will happen now? What will he do to you?”
I shrugged. I had no idea what was in store for me. “Don’t worry, I can handle Grey.”
“Can you?” Her eyes searched mine, filled with worry.
I smiled, then winked at her. “Better me than you, right?”
Before she could answer, Ivan cleared his throat. “Nina, take Mirabella back to her room.”
Nina hesitated, confusion still evident in her expression. “But?—”
“Right now.” Ivan’s tone brooked no argument.
Nina nodded, stepped forward, and gently took Mira’s arm. “Come on,” she said softly. “You need to rest.”
As Nina led Mira away, my sister looked back at me, fear and confusion warring in her eyes. I gave her what I hoped was a reassuring smile.It’ll be okay, I mouthed, not fully believing it myself.
I might’ve told her I could handle Grey, but Ivan was another beast entirely.
I turned back around and locked eyes with him. The air between us felt charged, dangerous.
“You knew who I was, didn’t you?” I asked quietly. “All along.”
“Not all along,” he admitted.
In one quick stride, he crossed the distance and gripped my arms. His fingers were like steel bands around my biceps. “You and I need to talk.”
His fingers dug into my flesh as he dragged me from the communications center, down a series of corridors. The tension between us built with each step—a dangerous current humming between us.
Guards and staff moved out of our way, averted their eyes as if afraid to witness what was about to happen.
We reached a small security office. Ivan shoved me inside and followed close behind.
“Everybody out,” he barked.
The two security officers scattered out of the room, and Ivan locked the door with a decisive click. The room was tiny, barely big enough for a desk and two chairs. A bank of monitors showed different areas of the compound, but Ivan ignored them and focused entirely on me.
The moment we were alone, he exploded. “You’ve been playing me all along,” he growled, stalking toward me. His eyes were black fire.
I refused to back away and stood my ground despite the rage radiating from him. “I’m not the one who started this.”
He narrowed his brows. “But you lied to me.” His face was inches from mine, his breath hot against my skin. I could see the muscle ticking in his jaw, the vein pulsing at his temple.
“As if there’s a rule to be honest to your freaking kidnapper,” I said.
