Nikolai
The sun has begun its late afternoon descent when I find Maksim and Roman in the atrium, standing near the glass wall that overlooks the gardens.
Clara is with them, curled into Maksim’s side, a hand resting on his chest. Roman is sipping espresso, as usual, black and scalding.
They look like a painting of power and permanence, a dynasty carved out of steel and blood.
“Afternoon,” I say, though it feels like the wrong word for a house that never stops.
Roman cuts a glance toward me. “You look domesticated.”
I shrug. “I feel good.”
Maksim’s gaze flickers toward me. “How long do you plan on keeping her inside?”
“Until I can be sure she’s safe.”
“Safe from what?” Roman asks. “From us?”
“From the world,” I snap. “From anyone who might think she’s alone.”
“You almost killed the men who tried to take her,” Maksim says. “The message was sent. Loud and clear.”
I nod once. “It’s not just that. She’s not some fling. She matters.”
Silence stretches between us. Maksim sets his hand over Clara’s and gives a slight nod. Roman doesn’t smirk this time. Doesn’t joke.
Instead, he steps forward. “What are your intentions, then?”
The question lands like a punch between my ribs. Not because I didn’t expect it, but because the answer comes so fast I can’t hide from it.
“She’s mine,” I say. “I’m not letting her go.”
“That’s not an answer,” Maksim says quietly.
“I want her here. In my bed. In this house. I want her to live like she belongs to me, because she does.”
Clara’s expression softens. “Does she know that?”
“She’s figuring it out.”
Maksim folds his arms. “Then maybe it’s time she had a say in it.”
The words settle like weight on my shoulders. I don’t flinch. I know they’re right. I’ve taken her, claimed her, protected her, but I haven’t asked her.
I nod. “I’ll take her to her place. Let her grab what she wants. Make it real.”
Roman tilts his head. “Not worried she’ll run?”
“If she does,” I say, voice low and steady, “I’ll chase her. Again.”
Maksim’s lips twitch like he’s fighting a smile.
I turn without another word, the tension in my chest a strange mix of anticipation and dread. She’s mine. I’ve marked her, loved her, buried my body so deep in hers I could taste her soul, but this is the moment that makes it real.
If she packs her things and comes back with me, it’s a choice.
And if she doesn’t… I’ll burn the city down.