Chapter 9 – Noelle
A few days pass, and everything feels deceptively quiet.
No notes, no messages, no attacks—but my gut doesn’t let me breathe easy.
Anton’s escape hangs over me like a storm cloud, heavy and inevitable.
I don’t know why, but the thought of him being free after everything—the scandal, my name being dragged into it—feels… wrong. Dangerous.
I can’t stop imagining him coming for me.
My mind keeps running through every possibility, every shadowed corner of Chicago.
Every time I close my eyes, I see him lurking, waiting.
My instincts scream at me to run. To move.
To vanish somewhere that no one knows me—where even the Bratva’s reach feels distant.
But that’s not possible, not yet. Everyone already knows I’m with Niko. The thought makes my chest tighten. I can’t just disappear; I’d be leaving behind the one person who can protect me, and that terrifies me even more.
So I pace, turning over every plan, every possible escape route. My heart races at the thought of leaving Chicago, of starting over in some anonymous city where my name isn’t whispered, and my past isn’t waiting for me like a predator.
I’ve survived before, but the idea of running with Anton on the loose makes me feel like I’m trapped in a nightmare with no exit.
And yet…I can feel Niko. Not just near me, but on me, in a way that’s suffocating and protective all at once.
Every time I move, he’s there—like a wall, a weapon, a shadow that mirrors my own steps.
His presence is inescapable, constant, and it makes my chest tighten in ways I don’t fully understand.
I try to remind myself that he’s here to protect me, that I agreed to this life. But even knowing that, the intensity of his watchful eyes presses down on me. I can’t move without him noticing. I can’t breathe without him registering it. It’s both reassuring and terrifying.
And in that constant, unyielding gaze, I realize something else: I’m not just surviving anymore. I’m being owned—claimed. And the thought both scares me and ignites something deep inside that I’m not ready to name.
I’m curled up in the library, the soft leather chair swallowing me as I flip the pages of a book, trying to lose myself in another world. But it’s impossible to fully escape. Every sound in the house carries weight. Every creak of the floorboards makes me jump, my pulse picking up like a warning.
The door opens. I glance up, freezing when Niko walks in. It’s almost midday, and it’s my first time seeing him, yet he doesn’t even acknowledge me.
He steps inside, tall and silent, and begins to browse the shelves, his presence filling the room without a word. It’s disorienting—strange and frustrating all at once.
I shift in my seat, hugging the book to my chest. After our first night together, we haven’t been intimate again.
He doesn’t even sleep in the same bed as me.
Part of me aches at the absence, the physical distance, and yet…
I remind myself that this marriage isn’t conventional.
Not by a long shot. Not that I want it to be.
Still, it’s unsettling to feel him here, in the same room, so close yet completely untouchable. Every movement he makes seems deliberate, controlled, almost predatory, like he’s aware of every small thing I do. My skin tingles under his gaze, even when he isn’t looking directly at me.
I tell myself to focus on the words in my book. To pretend I don’t feel the heat of his presence behind me. But I can’t. And that, more than anything, makes me realize how inescapable this life with him already is.
I set the book aside, my fingers lingering on the cover as I glance at him. “Why are you following me around the house?” I ask, my voice sharper than I mean it to be.
He tilts his head slightly, eyes narrowing. “I’m doing no such thing.”
I laugh, bitter and low. “Don’t lie to me, Niko. You can’t keep me locked in a cage forever. Sooner or later, you’re going to have to let me go.”
He steps closer, and just being near him makes my chest tighten. His voice is low, cold, and final. “You were mine the moment you said, ‘I do.’ And I will keep you here because that is the only way to keep you safe.”
The words land like a hammer. Safe. Mine. He’s claiming me—body, mind, and soul—and part of me trembles at the possessiveness, even as another part rebels.
I open my mouth to argue, to remind him I’m not just a piece of property, but the weight in his gaze stops me.
He’s unshakable. Absolute. And for the first time since this nightmare-turned-marriage began, I understand that in his world, desire and protection are the same thing—and I’m caught in both.
I grit my teeth and push back, my voice shaking with the anger I’m trying not to let show. “I only agreed to marry you to survive, Niko! Don’t act like this…like you really care or something. Don’t pretend it’s…anything else.”
“Pretend? Who said anything about care, Noelle?” His gaze lands on me, hard, unblinking. The air between us tightens, crackling with energy. “Learn to live with your choice. You made it,” he says, each word deliberate, heavy. His tone brooks no argument.
I rise from the chair and take a step closer, frustration spilling over. “I can be safe outside your…fortress! I don’t need to be trapped here for you to protect me. I—”
“You don’t know who’s after you,” he interrupts, voice low, lethal, and velveted with menace. “I cannot risk it. Not for a second. Not for anyone.”
Heat flares inside me. I shove against his chest—not enough to move him, but enough to feel the immovable force he is.
“Well, congratulations, Niko! You sure know how to act like a protective husband right now—but what’s the point of this charade if you can’t even sleep in the same bed as me? Can’t even talk to me?”
He doesn’t answer. Silence, thick and suffocating, presses in.
My pulse hammers in my ears. I see the slight flare of his nostrils, the tension in his jaw.
His eyes darken, and I know he’s sizing me up, weighing every ounce of fire I’m throwing at him.
The sheer intensity of his stare should intimidate me, should make me crumble.
But I’m too angry to care. My chest heaves, my jaw tight, and I refuse to let him see even a flicker of fear.
I spin on my heel, my heels clicking sharply against the floor, and march toward the door. “I’m done,” I snap over my shoulder, my voice brittle but unwavering.
I throw the door open and step into the hallway, the cool air outside the room slapping me with reality. My heart is racing—not from fear, but from fury, defiance, and the undeniable pull of him that I hate myself for feeling.
I need distance. I need space. And yet…part of me wonders how long I’ll manage to outrun him when he’s everywhere, in everything, and I can’t stop noticing how much I want him despite myself.
***
That night, I’m half-asleep when I feel the mattress dip beside me. My eyes snap open, and my heart stutters.
Niko.
He slides in beside me without a word, his presence filling the space with that same tension I can’t name.
He’s here. He listened. After my outburst in the library, after I shouted at him for never sleeping in the same bed, he’s here—silently, deliberately.
Shock ripples through me. My chest tightens in a way that’s both terrifying and thrilling.
He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t move too close or touch me—not yet. Just his presence, so impossibly solid, so undeniably him, fills the space and makes the air between us electric. My pulse races.
I can’t stop the thought from surfacing: This man…this ruthless, brutal, unrelenting force…actually listens to me. And somehow, knowing that…it makes my heart betray me, fluttering against my ribcage in a way I can’t control.
“Are you going to sleep?” he asks suddenly, his voice low, measured. “Or are you going to keep tossing and turning?”
I smother a laugh, keeping my walls firmly in place, refusing to give him the satisfaction of reading me too easily.
He shifts slightly, the weight of him beside me reminding me of everything I’ve agreed to—and everything I haven’t. “Anton escaping,” he murmurs, “is that…bothering you? Causing problems?”
For a second, I consider lying, smooth excuses to avoid opening myself up. But I don’t. I breathe out, letting honesty take the risk. “Yes,” I admit, voice small. “It…it’s causing problems. I don’t know what to do about it.”
Silence hangs for a heartbeat, heavy and electric. The tension between us thickens, a mix of fear, desire, and the unspoken knowledge that he’s both the source of my security—and the reason my pulse won’t settle.
“Tell me,” he murmurs, voice low and deliberate, his eyes boring into mine. “Tell me what really happened with Anton.”
I hesitate, unsure if I want to give him the full picture, but the intensity in his gaze makes my walls crumble. “It…it was bad,” I begin, my voice trembling just slightly. “He…he fought a lot. Always angry. He gambled too much. When he drank, he…he could get really scary. Unpredictable. And loud.”
I watch his jaw tighten, the muscles working beneath his skin, and I suddenly realize just how deeply his protective instincts are tied to me. “Did he ever….” His voice drops, hesitant. “…hit you?”
“No,” I answer quickly, shaking my head. “Never…not physically.”
He studies me, his eyes dark, and I can see the sharp edge of fury that isn’t just about what Anton did—it’s about the thought of anyone harming me at all.
“You…your anger…yours is controlled. Even when it’s visible, I can see it’s…contained. Anton’s…it’s wild. Scary. You never know what he’ll do next.”
Niko leans back slightly, the corner of his mouth tightening, a storm brewing just beneath the surface. I can feel it radiating off him, that precise, lethal containment, and I can’t help but shiver—not entirely from fear.
“I’m offended that I’m even in the same sentence as that guy, but okay.”
This time I laugh, short and sharp, but I don’t linger on it. I need him to know everything.
“I broke up with him,” I continue, voice steady despite the knot in my chest. “But he…he lost it. Started spreading rumors, framing me as unstable in Bratva circles. I had no choice but to leave. Move to Chicago. Start over.”
He doesn’t respond immediately, and I let the silence stretch, letting the tension between us settle, heavy and intimate.
Finally, he asks, “Have you dated anyone since then?”
“Pfft,” I scoff, a bitter little laugh escaping me. “No. I steered clear of men. I just…genuinely lost interest.”
A yawn sneaks past my lips, tugging me toward sleep.
“It’s okay. Go to sleep,” he says softly.
Niko still doesn’t move toward me, doesn’t make a single gesture. I want him to—crave him to take the initiative—but instead, I pull my pillow closer and shut my eyes, letting the pull of exhaustion claim me.
That night, I jerk awake, my heart hammering, sweat clinging to my skin. The nightmare still lingers—the shadow of Anton, his rage, the suffocating panic from back then. My breaths come jagged and uneven.
A firm shake pulls me from sleep. My eyes flutter open to see Niko lying beside me, his dark gaze sharp and focused. His hand rests lightly on my shoulder, holding me in place—not harshly, but insistently.
“Ogonek,” he murmurs, his voice low, commanding, yet threaded with something softer. “Wake up.”
I blink against the dim light filtering through the curtains, the remnants of my nightmare still clinging. The memory of Anton, the fear, the panic—it’s there, but it’s nothing compared to the solidity of Niko beside me.
Without thinking, I crawl toward him, pressing against his chest, feeling the warmth of him seep into me.
His arms immediately tighten around me, one hand cradling my head, the other drawing me close against his body.
I let out a shuddering breath, letting his strength and presence replace the fear.
“Shh…it’s okay,” he murmurs, his lips brushing the top of my head. “I’ve got you.”
I close my eyes again, this time not in fear, but in relief, letting myself sink fully into him. His grip is possessive, unwavering, and somehow the safety he offers is intertwined with a heat that sends my pulse racing. I can feel his body tense beneath mine, every inch alert and watchful.
For the first time in days, maybe weeks, I allow myself to relax.
I’m pressed against him, enveloped in him, and the nightmares fade into insignificance.
My heart slows, my body softens, and even as sleep threatens to pull me under again, I cling to him—not just for protection, but because this closeness, dangerous and magnetic, is something I want.