chapter 11
Iselyn
Since today is Dex’s last day, he has a lot to wrap up, final meetings with his supervising professor, handing over research data, submitting reports, and transferring access to the lab systems.
By the time we finally get free, it’s already seven in the evening.
We decide to eat outside. Dex shifted the day before yesterday, so he’ll be heading to his new apartment, about ten kilometers away from here, where his girlfriend is waiting for him.
He’s visibly impatient to reach there, but what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t delay him a little?
I laugh when he checks his watch. “Come on. You’ll be living with her your whole life.”
He chuckles. “For some things, a lifetime is a very small amount of time.”
I smile at his romantic philosophy. How lucky Aurora is to have a man who loves her this deeply. I look out the window, watching the vehicles move past in a blur. My thoughts wander to the man I once wanted to love me like this.
On my sixteenth birthday, I decided to tell him about my feelings. I sent him a gift, it was a bracelet I found on a site. I asked them to customize it with a stupid little text engraved on the back, saying Iselyn loves Matleon.
That evening, my father got a call from my uncle Maksim, telling him that Matleon had been attacked because someone sent him something through a public e-commerce platform, and his enemies traced his location through it.
Papa told me everything in detail afterward and warned me to be careful about such things.
He didn’t know it was me who had done that to Matleon.
I got very worried about him. As soon as I finished talking to Papa, I texted him.
“Are you okay?”
His reply came after ten minutes.
“Do not dare to contact me again. I’m hell annoyed by these childish texts of yours. Can’t you understand when someone is not interested in you? Do you know how ugly you look in this desperation?”
I felt my heart break at that moment. Even now, just thinking about it brings the pain back. That day can never grow old for me, no matter how many years pass.
After he said that, I still wanted to believe it was because he was angry.
Even then, I was fooling myself. It was already clear from his actions that he was never interested in me.
He never replied to my messages, but I kept telling myself it was because he thought of me as a child. After all, I was a child.
I texted him again. “But I love you, Matleon.”
His reply came colder than before. “You are just sixteen years old, what do you even know about love? Think about your life, Iselyn, and never ever text me again.”
I texted him back through steaming tears, my hands shaking as I typed.
“I can’t think of a life where you are not with me.”
I wanted to put everything in front of him, to say it all out loud, hoping—desperately—that I could still save those dreams.
But I couldn’t, because I was very wrong to have those dreams in the first place. And his next message made that clear.
“This is bizarre and nonsense. You are pathetic if that’s true because I have no plans of keeping you in my life. I’ve had enough of your dramas. I’m blocking you now.”
I wanted to reply to him that he didn’t have to block me, because I was never going to text him again anyway. But I kept that to myself.
“Hey, what happened?”
Dex’s voice pulls me back to the present. I realize I’m crying again. Damn it.
I wipe my tears quickly. Every time that memory resurfaces, it leaves me like this.
“Nothing,” I chuckle weakly. “Just got carried away—”
I don’t get to finish my sentence. A gunshot rings through the air.
Then another.
And then chaos erupts inside the restaurant.
The shots were fired by my bodyguard, and that only means one thing.
I’m under attack.
My bodyguards immediately form a tight circle around Dex and me. One of them speaks sharply into his tactical earpiece.
“Miss Mikhailov is under attack.”
Outside the restaurant, several cars screech to a halt almost simultaneously. My security goes on high alert in an instant. They move us fast, steering us toward the kitchen.
Malt shoves a gun into my hand before locking the door behind us.
Dex and I duck behind the counter, crouching low. My eyes stay locked on the door, the gun steady in my grip, finger ready. Outside the closed door, the sounds of gunfire echo.
I take deep breaths, forcing my heart to steady as I recall everything Papa taught me.
And then the door bursts open. It crashes to the ground with a violent thud, dust rising thick into the air.
Through the cloud, I see silhouettes of men, and I shoot.
I don’t know how much damage I manage to do.
I don’t aim for their heads. I can’t. I realize just seconds too late that I’m not strong enough to become a killer.
I aim for bodies, hoping to slow them down, to buy us time.
They return fire. Bullets slam into the counter. I duck behind the thick wall, heart hammering so loudly it drowns out everything else.
Is this what Dad meant when he said, “In our world, you either kill or get killed”?
But I’ve already lost my chance. More men pour in. Too many. Booted footsteps close in, spreading out, circling us like predators. My grip on the gun turns painful.
Someone bends down. I tighten my hold, knowing that even if I shoot now, it won’t matter.
But I never see his face. Another round of gunfire erupts. This time, it’s one-sided. The shots come from the doorway. Within seconds, every man in the room collapses. Bodies hit the floor one after another, bullets clean through their heads. It’s over so fast it feels unreal.
Silence falls.
We stay hidden even after the gunfire stops, my lungs burning as I force myself to breathe quietly.
Then footsteps approach, unhurried, controlled.
Polished brown shoes come into view. A man crouches down in front of us.
A gun hangs loosely from his hand, a blue bracelet on his wrist. Matleon.
His face is serious tonight. His eyes search my face.
I don’t know what he’s looking for, but all he finds is panic, raw fear, and shock.
Dex moves out from behind the counter on the other side.
Matleon reaches for me. He helps me to my feet, and the moment I’m standing, he pulls me into his arms, hugging me tightly.
The weight of what just happened settles inside me, leaving my body trembling.
I take a deep breath. His scent—myrrh and him—engulfs me, the warmth of his body seeping deep into my bones, steadying me.
I hear him whisper, “I’m sorry,” but it could be my ears playing tricks on me in the aftershock. He has no reason to say that.
He lets go of me. My hand almost reaches out, instinct screaming for me to ask him to hold me for a few more minutes, but I stop myself.
I let him take the gun from my trembling fingers. Then he covers my palm with his, firm and grounding. He leads me toward the exit.
One of his men is dragging a groaning man outside, leaving a dark trail behind. A few others are escorting Dex away, shielding him as they move.
We don’t speak a single word on the way to his car. After settling me inside the back seat, he places his phone in my hand.
“Call your father,” he says, his voice is low.
Then he turns and walks away. I watch him through the window as he heads back inside the restaurant. An unsettling rush of gratitude tightens my chest. This is the man I wanted to stay away from, and today, he saved me. Again.
The tightness inside me begins to loosen, unwillingly making space for him in my heart again. I close my eyes and drag in a long breath. Not now. I won’t think about this in this state.
When I open my eyes, I push all thoughts of him to the back of my mind. I’ll revisit them later, with a clearer head.
I look down at the phone in my hand. Papa’s contact is already open. I press call.
“How’s she?” His worried voice comes through the line instantly.
“Papa…” My voice breaks into a sob.
“Iselyn. Thank God.” His breath sounds uneven. “How are you, little one?” he asks urgently.
“I’m fine,” I manage between sobs. “I was so afraid… and I couldn’t shoot anyone. I was so afraid to kill, Papa.”
“It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s completely fine, okay? Stop crying now. Aren’t you my brave daughter?”
“I’m not, Papa. I would have died if Matleon hadn’t come on time.” I wipe my tears with the back of my hand.
“Don’t think about what could have happened, Kroshka. It won’t help you. Think about this instead, nothing bad happened. And you’re the winner on both sides. You didn’t have to kill anyone, and you still survived. If it were me in your place, I would have thrown a party of Beluga Gold Line.”
I chuckle, eyes still wet.
“When are you coming back? I don’t think New York is a good place for you right now. This is the second time something like this has happened.”
“I’ll come back after two weeks. I have to do some very important testing of certain medicines.”
“I’m not comfortable with the idea,” he admits, “but I’m sure Matleon will keep you safe.”
I hum in acknowledgment.
“Alright, Kroshka. You rest for now and don’t overthink. I have to take a report from Conrad about who’s behind this attack.”
Conrad is one of my six bodyguards, he’s Papa’s man, he reports directly to him. But I thought my bodyguards had been killed in the attack.
“Is he alive?”
“He’s injured, but alive. Take care, Kroshka.”
“Okay. I love you.”
“I love you too.” The call disconnects.
I exit the contacts, and my heart skips a beat when I see his wallpaper.
It’s an image of me. It’s from last Sunday, when I was sitting in the park, beneath a maple tree.
In the photo, I’m looking up, watching the leaves fall, a soft smile on my face, unaware, unguarded.
I have to admit, it’s a good photo. But how did he get it?
The door on the other side opens, and Matleon enters, sitting beside me. He looks at his phone in my hand and smiles.
“Admiring my photography skills?”
If it had been any other day, I would have commented on his stalking, or on the fact that he was always watching me, but today I decide to stay silent. I hand his phone back to him. The driver gets in and starts the car.
“Your good friend Dexter’s stepmother was behind this attack,” he says, looking out the window.
“Was it for Dex?” I ask, still horrified.
He glances at me, then speaks after a long, silent pause. “Dexter… and you, both of you.”
I lower my gaze to my lap, feeling relieved that we survived, yet equally terrified that something like this could happen again.
“It won’t happen again,” Matleon promises.
I look at him. “Thank you for saving us.”
His face remains hard for a few seconds before he smiles. “There is nothing to thank me for, Angel. What kind of man would I be if I didn’t save my fiancée?”
I purse my lips. “I don’t remember agreeing to marry you. How did I become your fiancée?”
His smile stretches wider. “I also don’t remember asking you, Angel. You became my fiancée the second I decided to marry you.”
I want to argue with him more about it, but I have neither the energy nor the mood. The gratitude I feel for him saving us clouds my thoughts.
I turn my head toward the window. We are about to reach my apartment. And soon, we are very close, yet the car doesn’t stop. I instantly look at Matleon.
“You will be staying with me.”