CHAPTER THIRTEEN
NATALIA
The farmhouse is still, with only the crackle of the fire and the twinkle of lights from the Christmas tree bringing a sense of life into the darkness of the lounge.
Dima’s grandpa hasn’t been able to bring himself to take it down.
It was the last tree he and Pawel decorated together.
The silence breaks with a slam of the front door.
I get up from the sofa and meet Dima and his grandpa in the hallway as they kick the snow from their boots and hangup their coats on the clothes pegs.
They’d spent the last two weeks using the lake house to host meetings with Miroslav and Artem
“My Little Sparrow.” Dima smiles at my presence. “Will you lie with me?” He asks and takes hold of my hand.
“Always,” I reply.
As Dmitry and I make our way upstairs his grandpa calls out. “Are you okay my boy?”
“I will be,” Dima answers.
I place my hand on his lower back almost as though I’m afraid of his body giving up in exhaustion and falling backward down the stairs. He reaches around and takes my hand in his.
“I fear it’ll never be over,” he rasps, his eyes burning into mine. “I want to kill Volk. I feel him inside me. I’m his son. I’m his ... filth.” He sits down on the edge of the bed.
My throat closes, but I force the words out. “You’re not him.” I can’t stand to see him in pain.
The look on his face breaks me. He kisses me—no; he devours me. A brutal clash of lips and tongues, a demand I can’t resist. His desperation pours into me, suffocating, and intoxicating.
I should push him away. I’m to blame for Dima being hurt. For Dima almost ... dying. For Pawel’s death. But I can’t. Because ... I need him too.
The ice-cold air from the window blows against my back, his body scorching at my front, and the world blurs into nothing but his mouth, his hands, his pain bleeding into me.
“I need you,” he growls against my skin. “Tell me I’m not him. Make me believe it.”
He brushes a strand of hair from my face. His eyes are softer than I’ve ever seen, they’re raw but haunted by his demons. “This might be the last night. They might come for me,” he whispers. “If I die, if they kill me ... let me have you. Not as a monster. Not as his son. Just as me.”
I should say no. I should push him away and build walls higher than ever. I should run, right now while he can’t chase me. Not because I don’t love him—but because I do. I don’t want him to get hurt again because of me. Because the bratva have my cards marked. They say they’ll always own me.
But I can’t run. I won’t leave him. I love this man.
Something in his voice cracks me open. I can’t bear the thought of anything bad happening to him and the thought of him dying believing he’d never been loved consumes my soul.
I kiss him. Slowly. Willingly.
And when he touches me, it isn’t the violence of trauma or the hunger of obsession—it’s worship.
He peppers kisses along my neck and pushes my shirt up, lifting it over my head he cups my breasts over my bra. “You’re perfect,” he whispers.
I run my fingers through his dark hair and close my eyes. His hands work to unhook my bra and my breasts break free. He licks down from my neck to my breasts and takes a nipple into his mouth.
My body trembles, reacting to his touch, craving more, and I cling to him, nails digging into his shoulders.
He tugs off his top and removes my skirt and lace pants.
His fingers traverse every curve of my body, and he traces his fingers along my inner thighs and then slides them inside of my pussy while kissing me dipping his tongue inside my mouth.
“Tell me you want this,” he pants.
“I want this. I want you.” I waste no time responding.
His fingers work faster and I let out a moan.
“I need you,” he says, unzips his jeans and pushes them off with his boxers. His cock is hard, throbbing—he’s about to devour me.
He pushes me onto my back and starts kissing my pussy, his tongue dances over my clit before he runs it up and down, tasting me.
“You taste delicious. I’ll forever be in love with your pretty little pussy. You’re my good girl, and I’m going to fuck you like it’s our last day on earth. My last day on earth.”
He works his way up my body and pulls me into him. My legs wrap around his back, and I pull him closer to my chest. Because I want to give myself to him, and maybe if I let him burn himself out on me, he’ll find some relief and he won’t spiral and drown in his pain.
He takes his cock and slides it against my wet pussy then thrust into me hard, raw, desperate to make this the best he’s ever fucked me. He’s so aggressive as he moves inside me as if memorizing me, as if carving me into the last piece of his soul.
And I want more of it—I gasp his name like it’s both a sin and a deliverance. Every movement of our bodies is pain, pleasure, and relief all tangled together in a mess of chaos, trauma, and longing. Every kiss, a brand that burns into my soul and marks me as his for eternity.
God help me, I want him to own me for a lifetime. Even when we’re in pain. Especially when we’re both broken like this.
His tears fall onto my breasts, and I look up into his eyes. I see the boy I fell in love with when we were just kids. The boy who stole my heart. The man who visited me at night. The man who saved me from myself. Who saved me from a world I never wanted to be a part of.
I hate myself for needing him because it means he’s been catapulted further into a world of shadows.
A world I allowed myself to be sucked into and then it became my life.
I made reckless choices and now he was going to risk it all again because of me.
Because my stupidity got his brother killed, and now he seeks closure, and he’ll fight for it.
I shake the feeling and allow myself to feel alive in his arms, even if it means our trauma binds us together more than ever.
He’s the only thing tethering me to this life, the only thing keeping me sane.
The only one who gave me a branch to cling to when I was drowning.
My body ached for him then and it cries out for him now.
He presses his forehead into mine. “Remember me like this,” he whispers. “Just us.”
I kiss him to keep him from saying anymore because the truth is lodged like glass in my throat—I’m so scared he might be killed because of me.
Dima collapses against me, holding me so tightly I can barely breathe.
His voice is breathy against my ear. “You’re all I have left.
If you ever leave me, Sparrow, I fear I’ll become him.
I fear I’ll become Mikhail. I don’t ever want to be as evil, as ruthless as Volk.
I don’t want to become my father, Natalia.
” His voice shatters and a sob breaks free as though part of his soul has been sliced open by shards of glass.
My heart stops and I pull back.
Because in this moment, I know it’s true. I know he has the potential to become a monster, to inflict evil but never upon me.
And I know I’ll never leave—no matter what. I’ve seen this man burn the world to save me. He’s selfless. Everything he does, it’s never for him. It’s for me, for his grandpa, for love.
I breathe gently. “Dima, I’m not going anywhere. I’m here with you, forever.”
His hand finds my hair, his fingers tangle in my dark locks and he thrusts into me—deeper, harder. The bedframe hits off the wall and he doesn’t stop. I dig my heels into his ass and claw at his back.
“Call. Me. Freak ... I need you to call me Freak, my Little Sparrow. Say it, say it for me,” he rasps, desperate, begging, but in control.
“You’re my freak, Dima.”
“And you’re my good girl, my princess, no, no, you’re my queen, Natalia.”
He pounds into me harder, and I whimper. “I want this forever. I mean it. Old and gray—remember.”
“Old and gray. A son, a daughter. I’ll make you my wife.” His other hand finds my jaw, and he pushes his tongue inside my mouth until it’s dancing with mine.
The fear of losing this, of losing him causes my body to freeze and I know he senses me shutting down. He grips my face harder and forces me to live in this moment.
“Don’t do it, Sparrow. Don’t spiral. Not like this.” His voice is calm, assertive ... reassuring. “I promise I won’t die. I promise you I’ll live. For you my future wife, for our future children, for us.”
His words resonate with me. It’s all I’ve ever dreamed of ... having a normal life, having a family, feeling safe, secure. Someone who will protect me and our children, and I know Dima would walk from heaven to earth, through hell fire and back, to protect what’s his, and I’m his—always his.
“I believe in you, Dima,” I say and take hold of his hand.
He guides my head onto his chest, and I listen to the beat of his heart. It’s the only heart I know has ever truly loved me. The only heart I’ve ever cared about and loved back.
Our hearts beat as one, and our fingers intertwine and our breathing slows as we relax and melt into one another. My eyes feel heavy and I know it’s okay to let sleep take me. Dima keeps me safe.
The sound of a horn beeping interrupts our breakfast. Dima peers out of the kitchen window.
“It’s Artem.” He informs me and gulps down the remainder of his orange juice. “Stay here with my grandpa. I don’t intend to be too long. I’ll be back around ten o’clock tonight.”
“You can’t go without me.” I protest and slide myself off the kitchen chair.
“Natalia, it’s not safe for you to come with me, last time ... please just stay here.”
I knew what he meant by last time. Last time I got his brother killed, I almost got him killed too, and that’s why I need to go with him. I need to make it right.
“Say it, Dima. I know this is all my fault.”
“That’s not what I meant. Last time it was dangerous. I don’t want you to be in danger, Little Sparrow,” he says and cradles my face.
“I need to be there. I saw the message on your phone.” I admit.
“So, you understand why it’s dangerous, and why you need to stay here?” He asks.
“I saw Artem’s message informing you he has Nikolai. I saw that you plan to use him as bait to lure your father ... I’m sorry, I mean Volk, Mikhail. To trick him. I know you want to kill them both, Dima.”
“He does, and I do. Yes, I want them both dead and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
I’m going to kill Nikolai and make him pay for everything he did to you, and I’ll punish Volk by forcing him to watch before his own death,” he says without hesitation.
A vein protrudes from his forehead and a muscle ticks rapidly across his jaw.
I know he means every word.
“Please, Dima let me come with you. I can handle a pistol. Just give me a pistol.” I beg and hold onto his lower arms.
“Natalia, it’s not safe.”
“If you don’t let me come, I’ll live in regret.
I want to be there for Nik’s final moments.
I want to see the life drain from him for real this time.
I’ve been haunted by nightmares of the wrong twin.
Now I know why. This time it’ll bring me closure, because this time it’ll really be him.
Surely you understand my need to see him suffer, he hurt me, Dima.
More than I’ve told you because I fear if you knew everything, you wouldn’t look at me the same way ever again. ” I plead my case and hope he agrees.
His eyes look at me, and I can tell his heart is heavy. He doesn’t question me or try to prevent me from joining him.
“Come here.” He calls me.
I go to him and he places a bullet proof vest over my head and onto my body.
“Wear this at all times, you don’t take it off, not even for a second.
I’m serious, Natalia,” he says as he unhooks my coat from the rack, slides my arms inside the sleeves and fastens me snuggly inside my new safety blanket.
He slips on a bullet proof vest and covers it with a jacket.
Then just as we’re about to leave, he pulls a small toy car from his jacket pocket and hands it to me.
“What is this for?” I ask, curiously as I examine the toy in my hand.
“It’s Pawel’s. Keep it safe for me. If we get the chance, I want to return it to him.” he says and smiles.
I tuck the toy car into my pocket and fasten it. I don’t want to lose it.
Dima’s grandpa hands him a blade, a pistol and words of wisdom.
“Be careful my boy,” he says as we go to exit the farmhouse.
“Always,” Dima replies and hugs his grandpa.
Dima takes my hand and we walk together toward Artem’s blacked out Cadillac Escalade.
Artem puts the window down. “Are you ready, Dmitry?”
Dima looks at me, smiles and nods. “We’re ready.”
He opens the door and helps me climb inside. And together, we continue our path as predators. We’re done being prey.