Chapter 31
Aurelia
Present
Adrian reacts first. The second Nikolai steps into the room, he retreats, like instinct’s warning him not to stand too close, backing away from me and giving Nikolai better access to the room, and to me.
And Nikolai—he takes the space. All of it. Towering over me, closer than I was prepared for. No cage between us. No distance I can pretend is safe.
He’s in the same dark suit I spotted from the doorway nearly two days ago, but the tie is gone and his black shirt unbuttoned at the collar—just enough to strip away the businessman facade and reveal the predator beneath.
He doesn’t speak, just moves until there’s less than two inches between us. His breath is even, controlled, and I wish I could say the same about mine.
I lock my spine, wrapping my hands around the posts to keep my body from bending, refusing to lean back even though every cell in my body screams for distance.
I’m familiar with the Orlov family, how they raise their kin to believe women are possessions, trophies, weapons to be used and discarded. Nikolai was born in that mold. Trained to see me as weak. To break me until I prove him right.
Not fucking happening.
With his body nearly touching mine, he raises a tentative hand, fingers grazing my temple and brushing through my hair before he gently tucks a strand behind my ear.
I force myself not to flinch. Not to give him the satisfaction. But my heart betrays me, slamming against my ribs, trying to claw its way out.
Amber. Pine. Whisky. That’s how he smells—danger wearing cologne. It wraps around me, worms its way under my skin, and suddenly I hate that my body can’t tell the difference between fear and something hungrier.
My body aches for comfort, and I think of Elijah—God, I miss him, hate him, want to erase him—but that’s not the point.
The point is that right now, standing shackled to a couple of posts, there’s a heat pooling between my thighs that I need him to satisfy, because I would have to be dead or unconscious to invite this monster to do it. A man who will likely be responsible for my death.
My teeth clench hard enough to ache. I won’t give in.
He wants submission. He won’t get it.
He continues to stare into my soul, hand on my cheek, body almost flush against mine. So I lift my chin and say, “You done?” keeping my voice steady despite the storm brewing within.
The corner of his mouth twitches—almost a smile. He leans in, so close I feel the vibration of his voice before I hear it.
“Hi.”
Low. Rough. Russian silk dragged over gravel.
For a second, I forget how to breathe. I’m sure he could have spoken to me while I was out cold, could have touched me—Adrian hinted enough—but hearing it directed at me, feeling his touch while I’m awake, is different.
My jaw clicks, annoyed that he ignored my jab from seconds ago. But the moment our eyes meet, the anger melts into something else entirely.
I hadn’t looked at his eyes. Not since they brought me here.
Red-rimmed, narrowed and unblinking, sink into mine with ease. He looks wrecked. Like he hasn’t slept a single second since the last time he stood at the cage door. But it’s clearest to me, his prisoner: exhaustion doesn’t dull him, it hones him.
“Hi,” I say back, matching his tone with confidence.
“I’m Nikolai Orlov,” he says smoothly despite the grit underneath. “I believe Adrian already told you that.”
I glance sideways and catch Adrian staring at him with a glare that’s anything but subordinate.
Interesting. Maybe there’s more history here than I thought. That surprises me more than Nikolai standing two inches from my face.
I turn back to him, refusing to let my stony expression slip.
“You are Aurelia De Luca,” he says, each syllable precise, as if savouring it. “And you should know it’s impolite not to introduce yourself in conversation.”
You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.
I blink once. Twice. Then my lip curls.
“You should know it’s impolite to kidnap people.”
The smirk that pulls at his mouth is lazy, arrogant, hinting that I’ve just played right into his hands.
“Where’s your mother?” he asks.
My smile is violent when it comes. “Oh, I don’t know. Probably under her tombstone.”
“Don’t fuck with me, Aurelia,” he growls, voice low enough to crawl across my skin.
“My name is Ace,” I say sharply.
“Mmm, no.” He shakes his head deliberately, his gaze pining me down, dissecting me. “I can see very well who you are.”
I freeze, because I don’t know what the hell he means, but he can’t call me that. Not Aurelia. That’s not for him.
As much as some traitorous part of me wants it—the recognition, the intimacy—I can’t let him have that. Not when I haven’t earned it. Not when every reminder of who I really am only makes this prison feel tighter.
He steps closer, erasing the space I’d just fought to hold.
His fingers graze my throat, tightening briefly before trailing lower, hooking at the torn collar of my tank top, once white, now streaked with blood and dirt.
“Nikolai,” Adrian warns.
But he doesn’t even flinch. Nikolai’s eyes stay locked on mine.
He continues to slide his fingers, dragging my shirt down with an agonizing slowness, but he doesn’t look down. His gaze never leaves mine, as if touching me is just a test.
“Krasívaya,” he whispers, the word brushing my skin.
His hand trails up my arm until it reaches the restraints, his thumb brushing the skin just beneath the leather. It’s almost a caress.
“Alright,” he murmurs, with command. “Tell me about Enzo, and I’ll let you go.”
“You’re an idiot,” I grit out, almost laughing. “Touch my family, and I swear to God—”
“What?” His mouth twists, taunting. “What will you do, malyshka?”
I lean forward, closing the gap until we’re chest-to-chest, daring him to flinch. My breath scorches his lips when I snarl, “I’ll get free, and I’ll kill anyone you’ve ever even slightly cared for.”
And for the first time, his mask slips. Just for a second. His eyes drop—betrayal written in the way they catch on the peaks of my cleavage before he drags them back up. His jaw flexing.
“You’ll break eventually, Aurelia,” he says, almost hoarse.
I smile, all teeth. “Well you’ll be waiting a long fucking time for that.”
He studies me one last time, something unreadable passing through his eyes before he turns to the door.
At the threshold, he throws a look at Adrian. “Yesli ty tronesh’ yeye, ya razorvu tebya na kuski.”
The cage door clicks shut behind Nikolai.
That sound—metal against metal—slices clean through the still air, final and absolute. But I can’t look away from him. His silhouette lingers just beyond the metal wires, talking to someone I can’t see.
The darkness eats the edges of everything down here. It’s been that way since the first day: the light fixed only on our small patch of ground, we’re exhibits in some sick experiment, while the rest of the basement—catacombs, maybe—stays in shadow.
There’s nothing here that can help me, but there’s something they don’t want me to see. That much, I’m sure of.
Footsteps shift in the dark. I feel Adrian’s eyes flick toward me, waiting, wanting to say something, but he knows better than to break the silence while Nikolai’s still nearby. So I ignore him. I keep my focus where the blackness moves, and when the steps come closer, I brace myself.
It isn’t Nikolai who appears at the gate.
It’s Ivan, the doctor.
But I know Nikolai hasn’t gone far. I can feel him still. His presence is the dark itself, holding its breath.
Ivan doesn’t even glance at Adrian. He stands in front of me, scribbling on his clipboard, the pen scratching abnormally hard. His eyes flick up occasionally, assessing my face, my wrists, and my ankles.
The material bites into my skin, and though I’m not quite suspended, my arms hang at such an angle that my shoulders burn.
The ache has gone beyond pain, into something hollow and constant.
Numbness creeps in, and with every injection they give me, I wonder how much longer before something inside me simply shuts off.
I don’t understand what they’re doing—the science of it. I barely passed human biology, and that was only because the tutors my father hired couldn’t stand to fail me. Whatever they’re pumping into me, it makes the world swim, dull but loud all at once.
Ivan moves again, reaching into his back pocket. A glint of silver.
But the scrape of metal on concrete snaps my attention past him. A chair? A shift of weight?
Nikolai.
The needle hits my arm before I can even curse. The sting is sharp and clean, blood beading as it sinks in.
“What the hell was that?” I demand, voice cracking.
Ivan looks up, disgust curling his mouth, as if the very idea of me speaking offends him on a moral level. He yanks the needle free, carelessly sliding it into his back pocket. But when he speaks, it’s not to me.
“U vashego pitomtsa slishkom agressivnoye povedeniye.”
Through the darkness, I hear Nikolai’s reply: “Moy pitomets, Ivan. Ne tvoy. Ostav’ yeyo. Seychas zhe.”
“You know that’s impolite. If you’re going to speak, you might as well do it in English for me and Adrian.”
Ivan looks at me with a grin, then lifts his head with a nod towards Adrian. “This pathetic bastard will never get anything from me.”
Adrian smirks lazily. “Love you too, doc.”
Good. They hate each other.
Noted.
Well, at least he spoke to me.
I consider pressing further, but with Nikolai just beyond the chained door, I choose not to push my luck.
So I stay silent, watching as Ivan leaves Adrian and I behind. Hearing two sets of footsteps move up the stairs. The door sounded shut behind them.
“I think we should be friends, Aurelia.”
Adrian’s voice comes fast—almost too fast—the second the heavy door snaps shut, and we both know Nikolai and Ivan are gone.
I roll my eyes so hard it hurts. “Don’t call me that.”
He smiles, lazy even with the clink of chains as he shifts. “Aw, come on. Why can the big, bad prince get away with it, but not me?”
“He’s not a prince,” I retort tightly. I don’t even know if I believe that, but I say it anyway. “And neither are you.”
Adrian just hums, leaning back against the wall. “Still touched a nerve. That’s interesting.”
I whip my gaze away, glaring at the floor, but the heat in my cheeks gives me away. I’m still reeling from what just happened. From him. From them, their power is undeniable, but it’s Nikolai whose presence weighs the most.
Enzo warned me. Over and over again. About how the Orlov heir wasn’t just a monster in a suit—he was worse. Ruthless. Charming. Persuasive. The kind of man who would make you feel the world belonged to you just so he could take it back piece by piece. The devil in disguise.
I hear Adrian stretch, the sound of metal dragging as his shackles scrape against the floor. “Hmph. Doesn’t matter, really. Names don’t stop anyone. But—” He tips his head, smirking at me like we’re conspirators instead of prisoners. “In the spirit of friendship, I’ll call you whatever you want.”
I hate that he’s become sort of likable, and I must truly be in bad company to see a caged criminal as likable, right?
It’s not like I haven’t been trying to turn him away.
But maybe he has problems too. I mean, what kind of criminal tries to be friends with his obviously murderous, tied-to-a-post cellmate?
I don’t reply. I don’t know if I can even think straight right now.
I don’t think Ivan gave me more drugs, it’s almost as if my body is more alert now, more aware of the agony my muscles are in.
Maybe he gave me some shot of adrenaline, some way for my body to kick the drugs from my system.
My mind is suddenly swarmed with an overwhelming pain I can’t shake.
I feel off balance, and the position I’ve been stuck in is causing my body to go numb.
I wiggle my fingers and even though they move, I feel nothing. I try to bend my knees, but I can’t get enough slack to move them. And suddenly, my strength falters and I begin to panic, tuning out the space around me.
I hear a mumble, and I assume it’s Adrian, but I can’t hear him anymore.
I thrust my body once, twice and again when my knee pops and the sting is sent through my body.
My breath grows heavy, but I can’t stop.
I need to get out. I need to get out. I need to get out.
Again, my body is thrust forward, trying to push out of the restraints.
I hear more mumbling, and I’m only forced to push harder. I can’t see anything anymore, only thoughts of Elijah pounding into a girl that isn’t me, Nikolai smirking down on me, knowing I’m pinned, Adrian knowing more information about me, pretending to be my friend.
It’s too much. I need to get out. I need to—
“AURELIA!”
Warm hands grab my face.
Adrian. He’s right there, eyes wide, breathing hard.
“Hey. Look at me.”
I can’t. Everything’s blurred. “I—I don’t—”
“Hey. Look at me, gorgeous.” His voice drops lower. Calmer. It works. I blink until his face sharpens again. His copper eyes catching the light, steady and too soft for someone like him.
My chest starts to slow. Air in, air out.
He wipes at my face. Tears. I didn’t even feel them.
“You’re okay,” he murmurs. “It’s a lot. I hate him for getting in your head. But I’ve got you, Ace.”
I nod, trying to regain some stability.
“I’m going to help you.”