Chapter 30 #2
His hands grab my arms, fingers biting in hard enough to bruise. Pulling at the red lace that barely covers me.
I scratch at his face. His skin tears under my nails, seeping blood.
"That's it, printsessa. Fight me. Resist. Make it interesting." His breath is hot against my face. "Show me how challenging it is to take what doesn’t belong to me. Make me work for it."
I can't reach anything else or get leverage. His weight presses me back toward the wall.
This is happening. This is really happening. Ivan isn't coming. Nobody's coming. I'm—
The door explodes.
Not opens. Not crashes. Explodes.
The wood splinters inward. The frame tears. The lock rips completely from the doorjamb. The entire door comes off its hinges and crashes to the floor.
Ivan stands in the doorway.
And he looks like death itself.
His eyes aren't blue anymore. They're black. Completely black. Like all the light has been swallowed by rage.
My chest releases all at once. Air floods my lungs so fast it hurts. Relief so intense my knees almost give out.
He's here. He came. He found me.
Ivan's gaze moves methodically across the scene, taking in everything, recording every detail.
Me pressed against the wall. Dmitri's hands on my arms. My split lip that I didn't even realize was bleeding until now. The bruises forming on my skin. The torn lingerie.
Dmitri lets go immediately and steps back fast. His hand moves to his jacket, where he keeps his gun.
"Ivan." His voice is different now, less confident. "How the fuck did you get on this boat?"
No answer.
Ivan just stands there looking at us. Looking at me specifically. His eyes move over me checking. Making sure I'm whole.
Then his gaze shifts to Dmitri.
I watch it happen. Watch those eyes change from black to an even darker shade. A hue that shouldn't exist in a human face.
Dmitri sees it too. But instead of backing down, he smiles. That smug, theatrical smile.
"Before you ask—yes, I fucking dared. Touched her. Was about to do a lot more before you rudely interrupted."
The gun comes out and points at Ivan.
"You move—" His finger's on the trigger now. "—you move one fucking inch, and I'll put a bullet in your skull. See how your printsessa likes you with half a head—"
Ivan doesn't let him finish.
He doesn't negotiate. Doesn't threaten. Doesn't give any warning at all.
Just launches himself across the room.
The distance disappears. One second, he's in the doorway. Next, he's on Dmitri.
The gun goes off. The sound is deafening in the enclosed space. The bullet goes somewhere. Hits the ceiling, maybe. The wall. Doesn't matter because it doesn't hit Ivan.
They crash into furniture. Through it. The glass coffee table shatters under their combined weight. Ivan lands on top. His position is perfect. His fists are already moving.
The first punch breaks Dmitri's nose.
That wet cracking sound explodes through the room. Cartilage gives way. Blood sprays.
"YOU DARED TOUCH HER?"
The second punch cracks his cheekbone. The third his jaw. Each bone snaps with a horrifying crunch.
"YOU DARED PUT YOUR HANDS ON WHAT'S MINE?"
Dmitri is trying to speak. Maybe trying to beg. But his jaw is shattered. His mouth isn't working right. The sounds coming out aren't words. Just wet noises. Mere evidence that he's still alive.
For now.
I should look away.
That's what normal people do, right? When someone's being beaten to death in front of them? They look away. They close their eyes. They try to pretend it's not happening.
But I can't look away.
I'm watching every detail. Every punch. Every crack of bone. Every spray of blood painting the walls and carpet and expensive furniture.
This is different from last time. From the alley, when I ran. When I saw Ivan kill that man and panicked.
This time I'm not scared. Not running. Not even flinching.
A smile tugs at my lips. Small. Probably wrong. Definitely disturbing.
But I can't help it.
Because this is for me. He's doing this for me. Every punch. Every broken bone. Every second of violence is because Dmitri touched me. Tried to hurt me. Tried to take what belongs to Ivan.
I try to justify it in my head. Try to make sense of why watching this makes me feel safe instead of scared. Protected instead of horrified.
But there are no words. No logic. Just feeling.
Ivan doesn't stop.
He doesn’t until Dmitri stops moving entirely. It isn’t until the face is unrecognizable. Just meat and blood and evidence of what happens when you touch Ivan Petrov's woman.
Finally, Ivan stands.
His chest is heaving. His knuckles are raw and bloody. He's covered in blood that isn't his. Painted in it. War paint. Victory written in violence.
He turns to me.
And something changes in his eyes. The darkness recedes slightly. The killer falls away bit by bit, leaving only the man underneath.
Ivan.
My Ivan.
He drops to his knees in front of me.
The movement is so unexpected that I almost step back. This man who just killed someone with his bare hands. This Pakhan. This killer. On his knees.
"Lila." His voice cracks. "Fuck. What did he—did he—"
He can't finish the question.
"No." I reach out and cup his bloody face with both hands. "You came. You found me."
"Always." He's shaking. Actually trembling under my hands. "I'll always come for you. Always. No matter what. No matter where. I'll find you."
He stands and kisses me.
Desperate. Hungry. Like he needs to confirm I'm real. That I'm here. That I'm his.
I taste blood and violence mixed with salvation.
Then he pulls back slightly.
"This is me." The words rush out. Fast and panicked and raw.
"This is what I am. What I'll always be.
A killer. A monster. This—" he gestures at Dmitri's body without looking at it "—this is what I'll do to anyone who hurts you.
Anyone who touches you. Anyone who even thinks about taking you from me. "
His voice breaks completely now. All pretense gone. All control shattered.
"You can leave now. For real this time. I won't stop you.
Won't follow you. Won't force you to stay.
" He's gripping my hands like I might disappear.
"You can be free of this. Free of me. Go back to your normal life.
Date normal men who don't kill people. Be safe.
Be happy. Be anything except trapped with a monster. "
I look at Dmitri's body. At the blood pooling on expensive carpet. At the destruction. At the evidence of what Ivan is capable of when someone threatens what's his.
Then I look back at Ivan.
This beautiful, terrible man who killed for me. Who tracked me across the city. Who somehow found and boarded a moving yacht in open waters. Who destroyed another human with his bare hands because they dared to touch me.
"Never," I whisper, before my mouth finds his. I taste violence and love so tangled they're indistinguishable. "I want you. All of you. The darkness, the death, the ruin — everything you think I should run from."
"You're sure?" His hands cup my face, gentle despite the blood coating them. Despite what they just did. "You're absolutely sure about this? About me? About what this life means?"
"I've never been more certain of anything in my entire life."
The truth. Complete and total truth. No overthinking. No second-guessing. No spiral of what-ifs and maybes and logical arguments.
Just certainty. Pure and absolute and terrifying in its clarity.
He takes my hand in his.
Bloody. Perfect. His.
"I want you to see something." His voice is steadier now but still rough. "What I'll do for you. What I've already done."
He leads me toward the destroyed doorway, toward whatever's waiting outside this suite.
Part of me wants to look back. At Dmitri's body. At the proof of Ivan's love, written in blood and broken bones and destroyed furniture.
But I don't look back.
There’s no need to.
I know what I signed up for. Know what loving Ivan Petrov means. What being his woman means. What this life will be.
And I want it.
All of it.
His hand tightens on mine as we step through the destroyed door frame.
Together.
Into whatever comes next.
Together.