She stands up on shaky legs and takes a step toward me.
"I should've let him cut it off," she cries. She holds up her bandaged hand and shoves it toward me like proof of her betrayal. "It's a finger. He could’ve had it. I never should've told him about the tablet. And you... You should've left me there to die. I'm not worth this. I'm not worth your empire."
Something inside me snaps.
My restraint was already worn thin by the ambush, the blood, the loss of my men, and the terrifying fear of losing her. Now, it completely shatters.
Hearing her say she should be dead ignites a dark, violent fire in my chest. I can't stand hearing her price her own life so cheaply.
I cross the room in two long strides.
“You’re the only thing worth a damn,” I snarl, grabbing her by the waist. “Nothing else matters. No one else. There is only you.”
She gasps, but I don't give her a single second to breathe. I press my body flush against hers, trapping her between the cold glass and the heat of my chest.
"Don't you fucking dare ever say that again," I growl against her mouth, gripping her hips hard. "Don't ever wish for death. Your life doesn't belong to you anymore. It belongs to me, and I decide what it's worth."
She lets out a choked sob, her hands flying up between us. But she doesn't push me away. Instead, she just grips the blood-stained fabric of my shirt, clinging to me like a drowning woman holding onto the only piece of driftwood. The shock is finally breaking her down, and the raw terror of surviving is setting in.
"I'm so cold," she gasps, her whole body shaking against mine. She buries her face in my neck, crying hot tears against my skin. "I thought I was dead in there. When the truck hit us, andwhen he held the knife, I really thought I was dead. Don't let go of me."
"I’m here," I say, wrapping one arm around her back and burying my hand in her hair to pull her closer. "I’m not going anywhere. I've got you."
But as I hold her, my gaze wanders down to the clean white bandage wrapped around her thumb. It's visual proof that another man had her at his mercy. Proof that another man terrified her, tied her to a chair, and made her bleed.
A wave of pure, possessive rage rises in my throat and chokes out any rational thought. I need to burn the memory of Moretti out of her mind, replace his touch with mine until I'm the only thing she feels. I want to be the only monster she sees when she closes her eyes.
So I kiss her.
My mouth crashes down on hers, forcing her lips apart. I kiss her with all the anger of losing my crown and all the raw terror of those hours I spent thinking I was too late to save her. My tongue sweeps into her mouth, tasting the salt of her tears and the metallic hint of blood from her bitten lip.
She whimpers, but she meets my aggression with a frantic hunger of her own. She needs this as much as I do.
"I'm sorry," she cries against my lips, her nails digging deep through my shirt and into my shoulders. "I ruined everything. Take it out on me. Please, Konstantin. Punish me."
Her begging me to punish her feels like a physical blow to the chest.
She thinks I'm angry at her, that this kiss is payback for what she did.
I tear my mouth away and grip her jaw, pressing my thumb firmly against her cheek to force her head up. I make her look me in the eye. My chest heaves against hers, and our breaths mix in the small space between us.
"Listen to me," I breathe, my voice dropping into a dark promise. "I didn't trade my empire to break you. I didn't hand over a twenty-year war to bring you back here and punish you for surviving."
Her breath hitches. Her dark eyes search mine, wide and desperate, full of unshed tears.
"I traded it because an empire means absolutely nothing if I have to sleep in a graveyard to rule it. I chose you, Helena. I chose you over the Throne."
The air leaves her lungs in a sharp, stunned gasp.
I watch the shift happen in real-time. The fragile, guilty survivor melts away under the sheer weight of what I confessed. In her place, the unbreakable woman who faced down the Bratva Council of Elders rises to the surface.
Her eyes darken. The vulnerability is replaced by a fierce heat, and the trembling stops entirely.
She reaches up and slides her hands to the back of my neck. Her grip is surprisingly strong, twisting tight into my hair. She pulls my face back down to hers. Her submission transforms into a fierce, absolute demand.
"You traded your crown for me," she breathes. Her voice is a whisper that sets the blood in my veins on fire. "You threw away an empire to keep me."
"Yes," I rasp, my gaze dropping to her mouth.
