He steps closer. His hand slides through the bars and cups my cheek, thumb stroking once. “I want my wildcat back.”
I swallow and my eyes close, just for a second, as my body betrays me and leans into the warmth. I should bite his thumb off. I should jerk away. But something happens when he touches me. My body acts on its own accord, gravitating closer to him instead of pulling away.
Like my body is choosing survival over pride without asking me.
I hate that he can do this to me with one touch.
I open my eyes, nausea and guilt rolling together. Part of me wants to vomit at his feet just to make him recoil.
Wildcat is the nickname Dominik gave me. He’s the only person who should touch me like this. He’s the only one who truly cares about me. Letting Gavriil near me feels like…betrayal.
I clench my jaw as I fight through the guilt, a spark of defiance igniting within me. It burns through the numbness.
Gavriil is so ruthless, so cruel, yet he’s desperate for me, for anyone, to stand up to him. Why does he yearn for insolence? Because deep down he probably hates himself as much as the rest of us.
“What…” I say hoarsely, my voice weak and broken after disuse. Gavriil’s eyes widen in surprise that I’m talking to him. I swallow hard and try again, pushing past the pain in my throat and dry lips. “What were you whimpering about in your sleep?”
His hand drops. He steps back like I’ve hit him and his eyes turn flat and dangerous.
He didn’t expect that. Does he even remember any of it? Or does he wake up every morning and pretend the nightmares never happened?
Gavriil’s bearded jaw ticks once. I can feel the words he’s swallowing.
Does he want to scream at me? Does he want to deny it?
I’m dying to see his reaction. I want to see him crack.
After all, it’s what he deserves.
But he reins it all in.
One slow breath. Then another.
The tension drains from his face until he looks almost blank, except for the glint in his cold blue eyes that makes my stomach drop.
“My dead father,” he says quietly. “What about you? Wereyouwhimpering about your dead brother?”
I lose my breath, blinking hard like he just slapped me in the face. That would’ve hurt less than his words.
I know that I’ve been having nightmares lately, but I only remember tiny fragments of them because I’m so disoriented whenever I wake up. I didn’t realize that I was making any noise or movements.
God, he’s such an asshole for throwing that in my face.
If I move fast enough, could I grab his throat through the bars?
Gavriil smirks and tosses the robe just out of reach on the floor. “There you are,dikaya koshka.”
I narrow my eyes, something sharp twisting in my chest. I only like Dominik calling me that, but I don’t speak up to tell him so. In fact, I don’t say another damn word to him.
He turns away, and for a split second his smirk slips. “I have work to do. Behave,” he says, then adds without looking back, “Or don’t. I prefer it when you don’t.”
Frustration sizzles through me as he leaves. My feelings are a mess that I don’t have the strength to untangle. I want Dominik, his arms, his voice, something solid to hold on to.
I miss him. And if there’s anyone who can help me get my head back on straight, it’s him. Even if I still can’t forgive him for what he did.
Being alone with Gavriil makes me feel unsteady, like my body can be tricked into betraying me. I hate that more than the cage.
I sink to the floor and rest my forehead against the bars. When my eyes close, the first thing I feel isn’t the cold metal, it’s the memory of Gavriil’s warm thumb on my cheek.
