"You're insane," I sob.
"I underestimated you though," he says with his words slurring badly now. "I thought maybe you put a little something in there to make me drowsy but I didn't think you'd try to knock me out completely. How much did you put in there?"
"Enough," I whisper.
"Enough to kill someone," he says as his smile fades. "But not enough for me. Just enough to put me to sleep for a while so you can leave."
"Yes," I say as my voice breaks.
"Smart girl," he mumbles while his eyes finally close. "But it won't work because I'll find you. I always find you."
"I know, but it’ll give you time to think" I whisper.
"I meant what I said," he says, his voice barely audible now. "About your family. One year is all they get. I'm giving them that year for you because that's how much I love you."
"I know," I say again as the tears fall faster.
"Don't cry," he says as his hand tries to reach up to touch my face but falls short. "You're doing what you think is right and I understand. That doesn't mean I won't come for you though."
"I know you will," I say.
"Good," he breathes out.
"As long as you know." Then his breathing evens out completely and his body goes limp as he falls unconscious.
I sit there for a long moment watching him sleep and memorizing every line of his face because I know this might be the last time I see him.
"I'm sorry," I whisper to his sleeping form. "I'm so sorry for everything. I'm sorry for lying to you and for drugging you and for leaving you, but I can't watch you destroy them. I can't choose between you and them so I'm choosing neither. I'm choosing to run."
I force myself to move, even though every part of me wants to stay, wants to climb back into bed with him and pretend none of this is happening. I try to stand but my legs give out immediately, too weak from everything we just did, and I collapse to the floor beside the bed with a soft thud.
I can barely walk. My whole body is shaking, sore, and exhausted, my legs feel like they're made of water, like the bones have been removed and replaced with jelly. I grip the edge of the bed and pull myself up slightly, then start crawling toward where my clothes are scattered across the floor, my movements slow and unsteady, my arms trembling with the effort.
Every muscle screams in protest, my thighs trembling so badly I have to stop and catch my breath, barely able to support my weight even on my hands and knees. I reach my dress and pull it toward me, sitting back on the floor to try to put it on, myhands shaking so badly I can barely grip the fabric, my fingers fumbling with the material.
It takes me three tries to get it over my head, my arms too weak to lift properly, too sore from bracing myself against him, my whole body protesting every movement. I manage to pull it down over my body, not bothering with my bra or underwear, just needing to be covered, needing to get out of here. I look back at the bed, at Ilay sleeping peacefully, his face relaxed, all the tension gone, oblivious to what I'm doing. Fresh tears stream down my face but I force myself to keep moving.
I have to get out of here before he wakes up. I grab onto the dresser and pull myself up using it to support my weight, my legs shaking so badly I nearly fall again, my knees buckling. I take one step, then another, holding onto the wall for support, my body barely cooperating, still feeling him inside me, still marked by everything we just did, my inner thighs sticky and sore.
I make it to my purse and grab it, slinging it over my shoulder, the weight of it nearly pulling me back down to the floor. The door feels a million miles away., I force myself to walk, one shaky step at a time, leaning heavily on furniture, on the wall, on anything I can use to stay upright, my vision blurring with tears.
I make it to the door finally, my hand on the handle, and I stop, unable to leave without looking back one more time. He looks peaceful in sleep, younger somehow, without all the violence and rage that usually defines him, his body covered in marks from my nails, evidence of what we did, of what I'm leaving behind.
"I'm sorry," I whisper to the empty room, to his sleeping form, to the ghost of what we could have been. "I'm so sorryfor everything." Then I turn the handle and pull the door open, using the frame to support myself as I step into the hallway.
The corridor outside stretches long and quiet, thick carpet muffling sound beneath my bare feet. Soft wall sconces cast low, golden light across smooth paneled walls, the space wide and uncluttered — no other doors along the length of it except the one directly opposite his suite.
Beyond that, the hall runs empty and uninterrupted, guiding the eye toward the polished metal doors of a private elevator waiting at the far end. Or at least it’s supposed to be empty.
Instead, I find 7 pairs of eyes on me.
I didn’t think of this. He’s the Pakhan of course he’d bring guards
I’m frozen when one of them, I recognise as Mikail speaks. “Miss Iris.” He says stepping forward. “Are you alright?”
They are all looking at me, their expressions alert, ready. They were stationed outside the entire time.
"I'm fine," I say quickly, my voice shaky, trying to move past them but my legs nearly give out. Two of them immediately move to support me, their hands reaching out. "Don't touch me," I say, pulling away, bracing myself against the wall. "I'm fine, I just need to leave."
