Chapter 16
CHAPTER 16
MARINA
F or the first time in a very long time, I felt warm. Safe.
It took me a few minutes to understand why.
I wasn’t alone.
I was wrapped in the arms of a man—him.
A man I had feared. A man who had haunted my thoughts for far too long. He was everything I should have stayed away from, a force of destruction in my life. My nightmare. My dream.
My head rested against his chest, the slow, steady beat of his heart thrumming against my cheek. I let my eyes slip shut, surrendering, just for a moment, to the illusion that I could stay here.
That it wasn’t wrong.
But it was wrong.
The weight of what I had done pressed down on me, overwhelming in its finality. Kostya had taken me. No, I had given myself to him. And now, in the aftermath, I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to recoil or press closer, to flee or to disappear into him entirely.
The war inside me was raging.
My body still pulsed with the memory of his touch, the bruising grip of his hands, the way he had unraveled me until I had nothing left to give. He had consumed me whole. Destroyed me. And yet, here I was, burrowing deeper into his warmth, as if seeking shelter from a storm I had willingly walked into.
His arm tightened around me in his sleep, and I swallowed hard.
The weight of him, the possessive way he held me, should have sent a shiver of fear down my spine. Instead, it settled something deep inside me, something dark and primal, something that terrified me almost as much as he did.
Because I liked it.
I needed it.
That was the most dangerous part of all.
I shifted slightly, and that was when I felt it—his cock, thick and hard against me, a reminder of what we had done. My stomach twisted violently, my mind racing back to the moment I had finally given in.
He’s your sister’s husband.
The thought slammed into me like a bullet, shattering whatever peace I had found in his embrace.
Veronika.
A wave of nausea surged through me. My eyes burned. The betrayal was a living, breathing thing between us, slithering around my limbs like a serpent, squeezing until I could hardly breathe .
What would she say if she saw me now?
Would she hate me? Would she laugh at me?
Veronika had never cared for him, not the way I did. She had cast him aside like all the beautiful things she never appreciated. Would she have any right to judge me for taking what she had so carelessly discarded?
Or would she look at me with the kind of sadness I couldn’t bear? The quiet, knowing kind.
For all of Veronika’s many attributes, the ones I loved, the ones that made her who she was, she had always been self-focused. Not selfish, not cruel, but so utterly consumed by her own desires, her own whims, that she rarely stopped to consider how others might feel. If it wasn’t staring her in the face, if it wasn’t undeniable, she simply wouldn’t see it.
She had never known how I felt about her husband. How could she? I had buried it so deep, kept it locked so tightly inside of me that even I had tried to pretend it wasn’t real. And yet, the more I thought about it, the more I wished—prayed—that she would somehow understand.
But that was just my own desperate hope clawing at something impossible.
Veronika wouldn’t understand. She wouldn’t forgive.
If she had witnessed what had just happened between Kostya and me, she would have cursed me. She would have turned her back and walked away, cutting me out of her life so cleanly, so completely, that it would be as though I had never existed at all.
That thought squeezed my chest, sharp and suffocating.
I needed to leave. I needed space, air, distance, anything that would let me think clearly, anything that would remind me who I was before this. Before him.
It wasn’t safety I felt. It was surrender.
Carefully, I eased myself out from under Kostya’s heavy arm, moving with painstaking slowness to avoid waking him. My breath caught as I tried to climb over him without touching him.
But of course, he woke up.
His arm snaked around my waist before I could escape, dragging me back into the bed, into his warmth, into him.
My body betrayed me. My muscles went soft against his chest, melting for just a second before I forced myself to remember. To resist.
“Where do you think you’re going?” His voice was thick with sleep, rough and lazy in a way that tightened my stomach.
“I just need to pee.”
He rolled over, pulling me with him until I was facing the small cabin wall, his chest firm against my back, his cock pressing into the curve of my ass. I swallowed hard, trying not to react, but my body was still too attuned to him, still too aware.
He pointed to a small shelf on the wall.
“That pulls down to a toilet.”
My stomach turned in horror. “Absolutely not. I don’t care what sick kinks you have, that is not happening. I’m not going to pee in front of you.”
Kostya shrugged, completely unbothered. “Then I guess you don’t need to pee.” He buried his face against my neck, his grip tightening, his breath warm against my skin.
I had to be strong. I had to be.
It would be so easy to close my eyes again, to sink into the warmth of his body, to let myself drift into sleep wrapped in the one thing that had ever truly made me feel safe. But that safety was a lie. A gilded cage.
“Kostya, please.” I had to keep my voice calm, reasonable, even if there was an edge of desperation in it. “There’s a bathroom three doors down.”
He didn’t respond. He just held me tighter.
I swallowed, pushing forward. “There’s nowhere else for me to go. If I was going to tell a train official what was happening, I would have done it before you ever dragged me in here. You know I know better than to get the cops involved or try anything stupid. Please…” I exhaled shakily, trying to keep my voice steady. “Just let me keep some of my dignity. Let me pee in peace.”
For a moment, there was silence.
And then his arm loosened just enough. Not enough to let me go—not yet—but enough to make me wonder if he would. If he’d let me have this one small mercy.
Or if he would keep me here, trapped in this bed, in his arms, drowning in a war of my own making.
“I’ll keep my eyes closed,” he said, his body still wrapped around mine.
That wasn’t good enough.
I really had to pee, but there was only so much humiliation I could endure in one night. The spanking—embarrassing, maddening, and God help me, thrilling—had been more than enough .
Veronika had always been the one who could bend men to her will, who could turn a sharp look or a honeyed word into a weapon. She had been made for seduction, for manipulation. But I wasn’t like her. I wasn’t elegant. I wasn’t effortless.
Men didn’t stare at me the way they had always stared at her.
But I had to try something.
I turned in his arms so we were chest to chest, my body pressing into his. His eyes opened at the contact.
I swallowed down my hesitation and purred, “Kostya, please.”
His brow twitched slightly.
I slid my hands beneath his shirt, my fingers trailing along the warmth of his skin, brushing over the firm ridges of his side, his chest. His body was hard where I was soft, built for strength, for control.
It wasn’t fair for him to be this dangerous and this tempting.
I traced his abs with my fingertips, letting instinct guide me because I had nothing else left to rely on. “I know what happens to bad girls,” I whispered. “You taught me well. Let me prove I learned my lesson.”
His breath came out in a low growl, deep and vibrating against my fingertips.
It worked.
“You have two minutes,” he finally said, voice thick and edged with warning. “If you take longer than that, I’ll break down the fucking door.”
Relief bloomed inside me, and before I could think better of it, I pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. His jaw clenched. My body hummed at the small victory as I pulled away, reaching for my leather jacket and shawl.
Another low, animalistic sound rumbled from his throat as I tugged my hair out from under the collar.
“The hall is cold,” I reasoned, knowing better than to test his patience. I’d never get away with grabbing my bag, too. “I’ll be right back.”
“Two minutes,” he reminded me, his tone a leash tightening around my throat.
I stepped out into the corridor, shivering the moment I left the cocoon of warmth. Whether it was the room’s heating or Kostya’s body that had kept me so warm, I wasn’t sure.
The train was quiet, the soft rumble of wheels against the tracks filling the silence. Dimmed runner lights guided my way as I moved quickly down the aisle, reaching the cramped bathroom.
Once inside, I took care of what I needed to, then braced my hands against the cold metal basin, staring into the mirror in front of me.
I didn’t recognize the woman staring back.
My skin wasn’t pale and ghostly as usual. There was color in my cheeks, a fresh glow that didn’t belong to me. My lips were swollen, kiss-bruised. The tops of my breasts were flushed, peeking through the disheveled neckline of my sweater. My hair was a tangled mess, wild curls framing my face. My eyes almost too bright.
I swallowed hard and looked away, unable to meet my own reflection.
The guilt was a slow, creeping thing, curling around my ribs, sinking its teeth into my chest. It would devour me if I let it.
But right now, guilt didn’t matter.
Survival did.
Kostya had given me two minutes. And I knew him well enough to know he wouldn’t hesitate to come storming in after me, tearing down the door, dragging me back to that tiny room so he could hold me against him again, pin me down with his warmth while I drowned in my own shame.
I took a breath. One more second.
Then I straightened, turned, and reached for the door.
He said he didn’t hurt Veronika.
I wanted to believe him. God, I wanted to believe him.
But could I even trust my own thoughts when it came to him?
We had just done things I never should have allowed to happen. Things I should have been disgusted by, things that should have filled me with shame. But instead, all I could think about was the way his body had felt over mine, the way he had made me feel—raw, consumed, alive.
I could blame it on hormones. On fear. On sheer, unrelenting stupidity.
But none of that mattered right now.
I had to get away from him.
There was no way to be certain that he wasn’t responsible for Veronika’s death. And even if he hadn’t killed her, what was stopping him from killing me?
Nothing.
He wanted that money. That was the only thing keeping me alive. But once he had it, what then? There’d be no reason to keep me around.
I had to think about survival.
Maybe one day, years from now when I was far away from this nightmare, I would let myself breathe again. Maybe then, I would find a man who made me feel even a fraction of what Kostya did in that tiny, confining room.
But I doubted it.
And if not? So be it.
A woman who fucked her sister’s husband didn’t deserve happiness.
But that didn’t mean I deserved to die, either.
The train screeched to a sudden, violent halt, throwing me forward in the hall.
A piercing clang of a railroad crossing bell echoed through the air, the sound reverberating through the metal of the train car.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
I peered through the small window out into the night. It was pitch black, nothing but vast, open fields stretching in either direction. In the distance, I could just make out the silhouette of a farmhouse, dimly lit and isolated.
We were in the middle of nowhere.
My bag was back in the room with Kostya, but I had a few hundred bucks stashed in my shoe. I could feel the lump from the bills beneath the insole, pressing against the arch of my foot, grounding me. That had to be enough to get me to New York.
It wouldn’t cover a bus, but maybe I could hitchhike.
Hitchhiking was dangerous .
More dangerous than staying with the man who might have killed my sister?
My mind raced.
Maybe I could find Solovyov’s men. Strike a deal. Or maybe I could take the money and disappear, start a new life, leave all of this behind.
That was a problem for future Marina.
Right now, I needed to know if escape was even possible.
I headed to the back of the train car, my pulse hammering as I stared at the narrow gap between the carriages. It would be easy enough to jump from.
One shot.
That was all I had.
Run. Now. Before he wakes up. Before he realizes what you’re doing.
I stood between the carriages and slammed my hand against the button. The metal doors hissed open. Night air rushed in.
Without taking the time to think, I jumped.
Tucking my knees into my chest, my body rolled into a tight ball.
I hit the cold ground hard. Pain exploded through my side, my hip slamming against the earth, the breath knocked from my lungs. I barely had time to react before I rolled straight into a patch of thick, wet mud.
Shock rippled through me.
I was alive.
I was free.
Holy shit. It worked.