Chapter 6 Sierra
SIERRA
“Um... what?”
The words come out strangled, like someone’s got their hands around my throat. There’s no way he just said what I think he said.
“I want you to marry me.” Matteo’s voice stays level, calm, like he’s suggesting we grab a drink instead of entering into holy matrimony. “It would benefit us both.”
I stumble back a step. My heel catches on a crack in the sidewalk, and I almost go down, but I catch myself against the brick wall of my apartment building. The rough surface bites into my palm.
“Are you insane?”
“No.” He doesn’t even blink. “Just hear me out. It would be a real marriage, legally. But we’d only do it to draw Viktor out. You said he’s obsessed with you. I believe this will piss him off enough to make a move.”
A laugh slips out before I can stop it. It sounds unhinged even to my own ears. “Why the fuck would I want to piss him off? I just want him to go away and leave me alone.”
“But that’s not happening, is it?” Something shifts in his expression, a hardness that makes my stomach clench. “Aren’t you worried about how far he’ll go? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like he’s already escalating.”
The bruises on my arm throb in answer.
“Of course I’m worried about that,” I hate how small my voice sounds. “That’s why I think lying low is better than poking the bear.”
“He’s not going to move on, Sierra.” The way he says my name sends an unwanted shiver through me.
Personal. Intimate. Like he already knows me better than he should.
“Men like Viktor don’t let go of things they think belong to them.
You ended it. You rejected him. That’s not something he’ll forgive. ”
I flinch at the truth I’ve been trying to deny.
“If we get married,” he continues, “I’ll keep you safe until I get my hands on him. Then we can look into ending the marriage.”
“So I’d get protection.” I fold my arms, trying to hold myself together. “And you’d get what, exactly? What do you want to do with Viktor?”
Matteo’s eyes go flat. Cold. For a second, I have no trouble picturing exactly what he does with that gun.
“You mentioned the feud between the Italians and the Bratva. If you know about that, you must have some idea of who Viktor really is.”
I didn’t. Not really. Not until he showed me.
Knowing that a man is involved in something criminal is not the same as feeling his fingers dig into your arm hard enough to leave prints.
Not the same as seeing the emptiness in his eyes when he tells you that you belong to him.
Not the same as lying awake at night, flinching at every sound, wondering if tonight is the night he finally snaps.
“Yes,” I admit quietly. “I know who he is. I know he’s dangerous. And I know you’re in a similar line of work.” I lift my chin, trying to find some of my usual backbone. “I don’t want to get caught up in all of that.”
Frustration flickers across Matteo’s face.
My pulse kicks up. Here it comes. The anger. The threats. The part where he shows me he’s just like Viktor after all.
But he doesn’t move toward me. Doesn’t raise his voice.
“Reread your texts,” his tone is clipped, but still even. “Look at the bruises on your arm. Maybe then you’ll understand that you’re already caught up in it, whether you like it or not.”
I want to argue. I want to tell him he’s wrong, that I can handle this, that I don’t need some stranger swooping in with his guns and his crazy proposals.
But the words won’t come.
“Think about it,” Matteo says. “Call me if you change your mind.”
He’s gone before I can form a response, disappearing into the shadows between streetlights. I stand there for a long moment, my back still pressed against the brick, my heart hammering so hard I can feel it in my teeth.
Eventually, I push off the wall and head toward the entrance of my building. My hands shake as I punch in the door code. I mess it up twice before the lock clicks open.
The elevator ride to my floor feels endless. Every floor that passes brings fresh waves of panic. What if Viktor’s waiting? What if he saw me with Matteo? What if—
My hands shake as I unlock my apartment door. Empty. Just like I left it.
I step inside and close the door behind me, locking the deadbolt and the chain. Then I check the windows. The closets. Under my bed like I’m a kid afraid of monsters.
But the monster I’m afraid of is real, and he has my phone number, and he knows where I live.
I kick off my shoes and pad into the kitchen on bare feet. The tile is cold. Grounding. I grab a water bottle from the fridge and drink half of it in one long pull, then press the cold plastic against my forehead.
My apartment has always felt like a safe space. I decorated it myself with thrift store finds and enough greenery to make my mom joke that I’m running a nursery out of my living room.
Tonight, it feels like a cage.
I drift to the living room window and look down at the street. Matteo is long gone. The sidewalk is empty except for a guy on a skateboard. Normal. Safe.
Still, I can’t shake the feeling of being watched.
My phone buzzes in my hand, and I nearly drop it. Just a notification from my bank app, but the spike of adrenaline leaves me shaky.
This is exactly what Matteo was talking about. I’m already living in fear.
I sink onto my couch and pull up Viktor’s messages. Reading through them again feels like scratching a mosquito bite—painful, but I can’t stop myself.
The messages are all from different numbers. He keeps getting new ones after I block him. The first few are almost sweet. Sickeningly so.
I miss you, baby. I know I messed up. Let me make it right.
You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved. Don’t throw that away.
Then they start to shift. The sweetness curdles into something ugly.
You think you can just walk away from me? You think anyone else will want you?
I see you, Sierra. I know where you go. Who you talk to. You can’t hide from me.
You’re mine. You’ll always be mine. The sooner you accept that, the easier this will be.
And the last one, from two days ago:
I won’t tolerate this behavior much longer. You belong to me.
By the time I finish reading, my stomach is in knots, and there’s a pressure behind my eyes that tells me I’m about to cry.
I don’t let myself.
Instead, I pull up my sleeve, staring at the finger-shaped bruises Viktor left behind. They’re darker now, purpling at the edges. The outline of his fingers is clear, like a signature. A brand. Proof that he was here, that he touched me, that he could do it again anytime he wants.
Aren’t you worried about how far he’ll go?
Matteo’s question echoes in my head. I’ve been telling myself Viktor would get bored, find someone new, move on. But what if he doesn’t? What if next time he doesn’t just grab my arm? What if he follows me home? What if he—
I can’t finish the thought. My chest constricts, making it hard to breathe.
I close the curtains with shaking hands, double-check the locks on my door, turn on every light in the apartment. None of it helps. The fear lives inside me now, wrapped around my ribs like barbed wire.
Viktor isn’t going to stop. The realization settles in my bones like lead. He sees me as his property, something he owns. My feelings, my choices, my right to say no—none of that matters to him.
I flop back down on the couch and press the heels of my hands against my eyes. I will not cry. I refuse to cry over Viktor Ilyin. He’s taken enough from me already.
But the tears come anyway, hot and silent, sliding down my cheeks before I can stop them.
I think about Matteo’s proposal. God, what kind of person am I that I’m actually considering this insane plan? Marriage to a stranger who carries a gun and talks about “handling” people like it’s nothing.
But when he walked me home tonight, I felt safer than I have in months.
His presence beside me was solid and warm, a wall between me and anything that might want to hurt me.
He didn’t touch me, didn’t crowd me, just positioned himself between me and the street, like he was already protecting me without being asked.
And in that alley, when he had his hand over my mouth and his body pressed against mine... my traitorous body had responded in ways that had nothing to do with fear. Heat spreading low in my belly. My breath coming short even after the adrenaline faded.
I’m attracted to him. There’s no point in denying it. Even now, sitting alone in my apartment with tear tracks drying on my cheeks, I can still feel the ghost of his fingers on my arm. Gentle. Careful. Nothing like Viktor’s bruising grip.
But attraction is dangerous. Attraction is how I ended up in this mess in the first place.
I trusted Viktor. I let him into my life, my bed, my heart. I believed him when he said he loved me, when he promised to take care of me, when he looked at me with those dark eyes and told me I was special.
And then he turned. Like a switch had been flipped. One day he was charming and attentive, and the next he was cold and cruel, controlling every aspect of my life, punishing me for imagined slights, making me feel small and stupid and worthless.
What if Matteo is the same?
What if this is just another cage dressed up as protection?
I pull my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them. My apartment suddenly feels too quiet. Too empty. I want to call someone. My mom. My brother. My best friend, Annika.
But what would I say? Hey, so my stalker ex is getting worse and a stranger offered to marry me for protection and I’m actually considering it because I’m terrified and don’t know what else to do?
Yeah. That would go over great.
My phone buzzes again, interrupting my spiral. This time it’s a text from an unknown number.
I saw you tonight. You know I don’t like it when you talk to other men.
The blood drains from my face. Viktor was watching. He saw me with Matteo.
My hands shake so hard I can barely type back: Leave me alone.
The response comes immediately: We both know you don’t mean that.
I shove the phone under a cushion, like not seeing the words will make them less true.
I sit there in my over-lit apartment, surrounded by locked doors and drawn curtains, and finally understand what Matteo was trying to tell me.
I’m not safe. I’m never going to be safe.
Not unless someone makes Viktor stop.