Chapter 10 - Alyssa
My lungs burn as I race down the marble hallway as the sound of that man’s pain chasing me through the mansion that was supposed to offer me respite.
The image won’t leave my head—Maksim sitting there so calmly while his brother beat the hell out of someone, as if it were a perfectly normal thing to do.
“Alyssa, wait!” Maksim’s voice booms behind me, and it’s getting closer with each step.
I don’t slow down. I can’t. My feet carry me through the house on autopilot, past the priceless artwork and the crystal chandeliers that suddenly feel like decorations in a haunted mansion. How many other people has he hurt in these rooms? How many secrets are buried beneath all this luxury?
The back door appears ahead of me like salvation, and I burst through it with a squeal. Cool evening air surrounds me, but it does nothing to calm the fire burning in my chest. I make it maybe twenty yards before strong hands grab my shoulders and spin me around to face the man I thought I knew.
“Let me go,” I gasp, trying to wrench free from his grip.
“Not until you listen to me.”
“Listen to you?” The words come out as a shriek that probably disturbs every bird in a five-mile radius. “I just watched you torture someone like it was a fucking hobby!”
“It’s not what you think—”
“It’s exactly what I think!” I finally break away from his hold and stumble backward a few steps. “You’re one of them, aren’t you? The Bratva. That’s how you know so much about Troy and his connections.”
Maksim runs both hands through his hair, messing up the perfect style he wore during our hike this morning.
That feels like a lifetime ago now, back when I thought he was just a wealthy businessman with mysterious connections.
No. That’s not true. If I’m honest with myself, I knew.
Deep down, I knew, but I didn’t want to believe it.
Now there’s no denying it.
“Yes,” he admits, and the single word drops between us like a bomb. “I’m Bratva.”
Hearing him confirm it still makes my stomach lurch. “You lied to me.”
“I protected you from information that would have scared you away.”
“Information I had a right to know!” My voice cracks on the last word, betraying how close I am to completely falling apart. “I trusted you, Maksim. I let you into my life, my bed—”
“We haven’t been together since that night at the club.”
“We would have,” I snap back, hating how true that statement is. “If your brother hadn’t called that night in the pool, we both know what would have happened.”
“Alyssa, I never wanted you to find out like this.”
“How did you want me to find out? After we’d slept together again? After I’d fallen in love with you? Were you planning to spring it on me over breakfast one morning?”
“I don’t know,” he replies as his shoulders slump. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”
“Of course you hadn’t. Men like you don’t think about consequences for other people.”
“Men like me?”
“Criminals. Killers. People who solve problems with violence instead of words.”
He flinches like I’ve slapped him, and for a moment, I almost feel bad about how judgmental I sound. Almost.
“I have never hurt you,” he points out. “I’ve never threatened you, never raised a hand to you, never made you feel unsafe.”
“Until tonight.”
“Do you feel unsafe right now? Standing here with me?”
The question forces me to actually examine what I’m feeling, and the answer terrifies me more than anything else that’s happened today.
No, I don’t feel unsafe. Even knowing what he’s capable of, even after witnessing him participate in torture, some traitorous part of me still sees him as my protector rather than my threat.
Which makes me an idiot.
“That’s not the point,” I deflect.
“It’s exactly the point. I kept my involvement in the Bratva from you because I wanted you to feel safe with me. I wanted you to see me as someone who could protect you, not someone you needed protection from.”
“By lying to me.”
“By not telling you everything at once.” He takes a step close with his hands out, like he’s trying not to spook me. “Alyssa, my feelings for you are real. Everything between us has been real, except for that one omission.”
“One omission?” I bark out a laugh that sounds more like a manic cackle. “You’re a criminal, Maksim. That’s not a small detail you forgot to mention. That’s your entire identity.”
“It’s what I do for a living. It’s not who I am.”
“Really? Because the man I just saw in that room looked pretty comfortable with violence.”
“The man you saw in that room was protecting his family and his interests. Sometimes that requires methods that decent people find distasteful.”
“Decent people,” I repeat. “Is that what you think I am?”
“I think you’re the best person I’ve ever met,” he says. “I think you deserve better than getting dragged into my world, which is why I tried to keep you separate from it.”
“Well, congratulations,” I sneer. “Your plan worked perfectly.”
“Alyssa—”
“No.” I hold up a hand to stop whatever he’s about to say. “I can’t do this right now. I need time to think, time to process what I just saw. I need you to leave me alone.”
“For how long?”
“I don’t know. Maybe forever.”
Pain lances across his face, but he nods once. “If that’s what you want.”
“It’s what I need.”
We stand there staring at each other for what feels like hours but is probably only seconds. Part of me wants to take it all back, to run into his arms and pretend I never saw what I saw. The other part wants to keep running until I’m as far away from this place as possible.
I turn and walk back toward the house, forcing myself not to look over my shoulder to see if he’s watching me go. My legs feel shaky as I climb the back steps, and by the time I reach my bedroom, I’m ready to collapse.
The door closes behind me, and I sink onto the edge of the bed, staring at the elegant wallpaper while my brain tries to make sense of everything that’s happened.
Maksim is Bratva. The man who’s been protecting me, housing me, and making me feel safer than I have in my entire life is a member of one of the most dangerous criminal organizations in the world. The same world that Troy operates in, though obviously at very different levels.
How did I not see it? Looking back, there were signs everywhere. The expensive house, the extensive security, the way other people deferred to him, his knowledge about Troy’s connections. I was so grateful for his protection that I ignored every red flag waving in front of my face.
But here’s the thing that’s really messing with my head: even knowing what he is, I still don’t feel like he’s a threat to me personally. When he grabbed my shoulders outside, I wasn’t afraid he would hurt me. When he admitted the truth, I wasn’t scared for my physical safety.
Which probably makes me the stupidest woman alive, but it’s more than I could say for my ex.
Troy seemed normal for months before I discovered his criminal connections.
He made me feel special, right up until the moment I walked in on his business meeting.
But from that moment on, I was terrified of him.
I can’t explain why, but I just knew he would sooner chop me into pieces than risk me telling his secret to anyone.
How do I know Maksim isn’t just better at hiding his true nature?
The difference is obvious. Maksim has never shown me anything but kindness and respect, even when I’ve challenged him or questioned his motives. There was no questioning Troy.
But maybe that just means he’s more dangerous, not less.
I flop backward onto the mattress, staring at the ceiling while I try to untangle my emotions from logic. My heart is telling me that Maksim would never hurt me, that his feelings are genuine, and that whatever he does for a living doesn’t change the man he’s been with me.
My brain is screaming that I’m being naive, that criminals don’t get to compartmentalize their lives like that. Violence in one area always bleeds into others eventually.
The problem is, I don’t know which voice to listen to.
Hours pass in this internal debate. I ask to have my dinner in my room, but barely touch the food. I try reading my book, but can’t focus on the words. I take a hot shower and change into pajamas, hoping the routine will calm my racing thoughts.
Nothing works.
Around ten o’clock, a soft knock on my door makes me freeze. I know it’s him even before he speaks.
“Alyssa?” Maksim’s voice is muffled through the wood, gentler than I’ve ever heard it. “I know you asked me to leave you alone, but I wanted to apologize again.”
I debate not answering, pretending I’m asleep, but something in his tone makes me walk over and crack the door open just enough to see his face.
He looks exhausted. His hair is still messy, his usually perfect clothes are wrinkled, and there’s something defeated in his posture that seems so out of place on him.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry you had to see that, and I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you the truth from the beginning. I shouldn’t have put you in this position. You deserved better from me.”
“Yes, I did.”
“I know you probably want me to arrange other accommodations for you—”
“Is that what you want?”
The question surprises us both. I’m not sure why I asked it, or what answer I’m hoping for.
“No,” he admits. “I want you to stay. But I understand if you can’t.”
“I need more time to think.”
“Take all the time you need.”
“What about Troy? What about the Serpents and all the people who want to hurt me?”
“That hasn’t changed. You’re still under my protection, regardless of how you feel about me personally.”
“And if I decide I can’t stay here?”
“Then I’ll find somewhere else for you to go. Somewhere safe.”
The fact that he’s willing to let me leave, even knowing it will complicate my safety, somehow makes me trust him a little more. A controlling man would use my situation to keep me trapped here.
“Okay,” I whisper.
“Okay?”
“I’ll stay for now. But I need space to figure this out.”
Relief floods his features. “Whatever you need.”
“Goodnight, Maksim.”
“Goodnight, Alyssa.”
I close the door and lean against it, listening to his footsteps fade down the hallway. My heart is pounding like I just ran a marathon, and the worst part is that I can’t tell if it’s from fear or something else.
That’s when it hits me like a bolt of lightning: even after everything I’ve learned about him, everything I’ve seen him capable of, I’m still attracted to him. Still drawn to him in ways that make no logical sense.
I’m falling for a man who tortures people in his spare time. What does that say about me as a person? What kind of woman develops feelings for someone capable of such violence?
The answer is simple: the kind of woman who needs to get as far away from here as possible before she does something really stupid.
I wait another hour, listening for sounds of movement in the house.
When I’m confident everyone has gone to bed, I grab my purse and the clothes Harrison retrieved from my hotel room.
I don’t pack everything—that would be too obvious if someone checks on me—just enough to get by for a few days while I figure out my next move.
Getting out of the house turns out to be easier than expected. The front door is locked, but not with anything I can’t handle. Within minutes, I’m standing on the front steps, breathing in the cool night while I debate my next move.
I don’t have a car, don’t have much money, and don’t have anywhere safe to go. But I have something more important than any of those things: I have my freedom.