Last night, he was tender. Gentle. He touched me like I was more than a captive. He held me like I was something worth protecting.
And then this morning, he tortured a man and killed another without hesitation.
Both versions are him, and I don't know how to reconcile them. I don't know how to want the man from last night while being horrified by the man from this morning.
The sobs wrack my body, making my chest ache and making it hard to breathe. I clutch the pillow tighter, trying to muffle the sounds, trying to hold myself together.
But I can't.
Because the worst part—the part that makes me cry harder—is that even after everything I just witnessed, even after watching him kill a man for the crime of looking at me, even after seeing the blood on his hands and the coldness in his eyes…
I still want him.
I still want the man who held me last night. I still want the tenderness and the vulnerability and the connection that felt real even if it might not be.
And I don't know what that makes me. So I just lie there, alone and confused and terrified, waiting for something—anything—to make sense.
18
ANDREI
It's been two days since Liesl looked at me with horror in her eyes and told me she wasn't mine unless she decided to be. Two days since I let her walk away instead of doing what every instinct screamed at me to do—claim her, keep her, make her understand that she belongs to me whether she accepts it or not.
Two days of distance that feels like a chasm I don't know how to cross.
I stand at the window of my office, watching the estate grounds as dawn breaks over the horizon. The light is pale and cold, casting long shadows across the manicured lawns. Everything looks peaceful, but that's a lie.
The war with Alexander Baumann has escalated beyond anything I anticipated. The Volkovs are circling like vultures, sensing weakness, looking for an opportunity to strike. Everyone thinks I'm distracted, compromised, and they're not entirely wrong.
I haven't seen Liesl since that morning. She stays in her room like she was told, and I should be glad that she's finally obeying.Instead, it's driving me mad, because I know she's pulling away from me.
And I'm letting her, because I don't know what else to do. She doesn't know how to reconcile the man who held her tenderly with the man who killed someone for looking at her, and I don't know how to be both things at once when she clearly can't accept that I am.
The door to my office opens without a knock. It's Viktor. His face is grim, and I know before he speaks that the news isn't good.
"We have a problem," he says.
I turn from the window. "The Volkovs?"
"Intelligence just came in. They're mobilizing—multiple teams, heavy weapons. They're planning a coordinated assault on the estate."
My jaw tightens. "When?"
"Today. Possibly within the hour."
Fuck.
I move to my desk, pulling up the security feeds on my computer. The estate has cameras covering every approach, motion sensors, armed guards at every entrance. We're prepared for an attack. But the Volkovs won't move unless they're confident they can win.
That doesn't necessarily mean they're right.
"How many men?" I ask.
"At least thirty. Maybe more."
I do the math quickly. We have thirty men on the estate right now, another fifteen I can call in within thirty minutes. "Call everyone in," I tell Viktor. "Full mobilization. I want every man armed and in position within twenty minutes. Set them up at the main gate and the east entrance. Put snipers on the roof."
"Already done," Viktor says. "What about the girl?"
