“Listen carefully,” he says, voice dropping to that low, serious register. “You do not leave this room until morning.Nowandering.Nowindows.Notricks. If you do, there will be consequences. Understand?”
I nod, eyes wide. “I understand. I promise.”
He studies my face for a long second, searching for any hint of deception. Whatever he sees must satisfy him, because he gives a single nod. “Good boy.”
Viktor leans down, presses a kiss to my forehead—lingering just long enough that my heart stutters—then straightens. “Sleep.”
The door closes quietly behind him. The room falls silent except for the faint crackle of the fire downstairs and the soft sound of my own breathing.
I pull Goldie close, burying my face in his golden mane. “I don’t know what to do,” I whisper to him. “I really don’t.”
My bottom still aches faintly when I shift, a dull reminder of earlier, but it’s nothing compared to the confusion in my chest. I should hate Viktor. He’s keeping me here. He spanked me until I cried. He’s dangerous—mafia, guns, blood. I literally saw him kill a man with such precision I know it was far from his first body.
And yet.
The way he sang that lullaby. The way he tucked me in. The promise of clay and tools so I can make something beautiful again. The solid warmth of his chest when I leaned against him during the movie. The gentle kiss on my forehead just now…
Mmmmph.
My heart flutters every time I think about it.
“Could he actually be my Daddy?” I murmur into Goldie’s fur. The words feel huge, terrifying, impossible.
I close my eyes, trying to picture escape—slipping out the window, running through the woods, finding a road, calling Robbie. But the images blur. Instead I see Viktor’s face when he carried me up here, steady and sure. I see his hand on my knee earlier, the electricity that sparked between us. I feel the safety of his arms, the low rumble of his voice promising consequences if I disobey.
I’m tired of running.
I’m tired of being afraid.
And tired of pretending I don’t feel whatever this is growing inside me.
But admitting it? That’s the scariest thing of all.
I hug Goldie tighter, letting exhaustion pull me under.
Tomorrow I’ll think about it. Tomorrow I’ll decide.
For now, I let the scent of Viktor’s pajamas and the memory of his lullaby carry me into sleep. And hopefully some very naughty dreams too…
Chapter 10
Viktor
“Sleep well,” I say, quietly and more to myself than to Eddie. Truthfully, it just feels good to say it. I rarely sleep well myself, so it’s almost like I’m living vicariously through the boy at this moment.
I shut the door to Eddie's guest room with a quiet click, the sound echoing slightly in the empty hallway. The house feels still now, the kind of quiet that settles after a long day, broken only by the distant crackle of the fire downstairs.
I pause for a moment, hand lingering on the doorknob, listening.
No movement inside—no footsteps, no rustling.
The boy is probably already drifting off, his small frame buried under the covers with that stuffie clutched tight. The image sticks with me: him in my pajamas, oversized and swallowing him up, eyes heavy with exhaustion but still holding that spark of defiance.
It's dangerous, this pull he has on me.
A distraction I can't afford, not tonight of all nights.
But there's no time to dwell. Alexander is waiting, and the meeting can't be delayed. I head downstairs, boots thudding softly on the wooden steps.
