“And what does that make you?” he asks calmly. “You married a man just to run him into the ground. You worked with his enemy. What does that make you, Sienna?”
My chest constricts. I shake my head, the movement sharp, desperate. “I want out.”
His expression softens—too soft. Pity fills his eyes, and that’s when I know he’s about to twist the knife.
“You poor thing,” he says gently. He steps closer, lowering his voice, slipping it under my skin. “Did you really think he changed?”
The warehouse seems to fade as his words drag me backward in time.
“Five years ago,” Viktor continues, “he used you to get that glowing review. He needed credibility. Access. You gave it to him.” He shrugs. “And when he was done, he discarded you.”
My stomach knots.
“He doesn’t love you,” Viktor presses. “Sebastian Rusnak doesn’t love anyone. He uses people for what they offer, then throws them away when they’re no longer useful.” His gaze sharpens. “He did it to me too.”
I stiffen.
“I helped him once,” Viktor says, bitterness bleeding through the calm. “Connections. Access. Protection. And when I was no longer convenient? He ruined me. Just like he ruined you.”
The words hit where I’m weakest, sliding into old cracks that just started to heal. Images flash—Sebastian leaving, the silence, the humiliation, the way my world collapsed afterward.
Viktor leans in, voice low, insidious.
“You think you’re special now because he married you? You’re not. You’re just closer to the fire this time.”
My heart pounds violently, anger and fear tangling in my chest. I clench my fists, nails biting into my palms, grounding myself.
“No,” I say, louder now. “You’re wrong.”
Am I trying to convince him…or myself?
Viktor laughs. It’s low, indulgent, like I’ve amused him.
“Deep down, you know I’m right,” he says. “You know you’ll never mean anything to Sebastian. Even as Mrs. Rusnak, you’re nothing to him.”
I draw in a shaky breath, forcing my spine straight.
“Maybe,” I say. “Maybe he hurt me. But it doesn’t matter. I’m not helping you destroy him.”
“Aww,” Viktor coos. “Young love.”
Then his expression shifts. The warmth drains away, leaving something hard and sharp behind his eyes.
“I can’t let you walk away,” he says calmly.
He steps closer. Too close.
“You were simply the perfect way inside his walls,” he continues, voice almost fond. “A beautiful, scorned little weapon.”
My blood turns to ice.
“So you used me,” I whisper.
He smiles—slow, cruel.
“Of course I did. And you let me.”
My knees weaken, the truth of it crashing through me. I steady myself by sheer will.
