Chapter 19 – Sasha
Lev stalks toward me, his eyes dark, his movements sharp—like a predator closing in.
But I’m too angry, too shaken to care.
“Don’t,” I snap, pushing him hard in the chest before he can reach me. “Don’t you dare come near me right now.”
He stops mid-step, muscles coiled tight, chest heaving. “Sasha—”
“No!” I cut him off, my voice breaking. “You left me, Lev! You left me alone.”
His jaw ticks, but I keep going, words tumbling out in furious tremors.
“Yes, I know—Mikhail was around, your guards were outside, everyone was supposedly watching! And yet—” I gesture toward the unconscious man on the floor, my voice rising, “—one of them still got in! A Greek soldier! He was inside, Lev. Inside!”
My heart hammers so violently it hurts. The image flashes again—the man’s hand reaching for me, the heavy vase connecting with his skull, the sickening crack.
Lev’s gaze flicks to the body, then back to me. There’s fire in his eyes, but it’s not directed at me—it’s colder, darker.
He takes a slow step closer, and I back away until my shoulders hit the wall.
“Sasha,” he says quietly, “I told you I’d handle it—”
“Handle it?” I laugh, bitter and breathless. “You said I was safe here! You said I had nothing to worry about! And then you leave.”
Lev strides toward me, ignoring my hands that try to push him away. “Why the hell weren’t you hiding?” he snaps, voice low but dangerous. “I sent a warning signal. I called you a thousand times. I texted. I told you to stay inside!”
I flinch, but anger bubbles up through my fear. “I was worried!” I fire back. “I was checking what was wrong. I had no idea it would escalate like this!”
“You should have stayed put,” he snarls, fists clenching at his sides. “Do you know what could’ve happened if you hadn’t grabbed that vase? Do you?”
“I was scared for you,” I shout, my voice cracking. “You left. You didn’t tell me anything. You were meeting Viktor—what was I supposed to think?”
His nostrils flare. For a second, he looks like he’s about to explode. “You’re supposed to trust me!”
“Trust you?” My laugh comes out broken and bitter. “How can I trust you when you keep me in the dark about everything? When you disappear and leave me to fend for myself?”
He drags a hand over his face, breathing hard, his anger burning out into something darker. “Sasha,” he says, voice rough now, “if anything had happened to you—”
I take a step closer, jabbing a finger into his chest. “It did happen, Lev. Someone got in. Someone tried to grab me. And you weren’t here.”
The air between us crackles, too thick to breathe.
“You can’t keep doing this to me,” I say, my voice trembling but rising. “You can’t lock me away like some possession. I’m not your property, Lev!”
His head snaps toward me, eyes narrowing, dangerous. “Property?” he repeats, voice like a blade. “Is that what you think this is?”
“What else am I supposed to think?” I throw back. “You take my passport, you tell me where I can go, who I can talk to—God, I can’t even breathe without you deciding if it’s safe!”
He steps closer, anger vibrating off him. “You think this is about control?” he growls. “I’ve told you a million times that it’s not. You think I want to keep you caged? This is about survival, Sasha. About keeping you alive while men are putting prices on your head!”
“I didn’t ask for any of this!” My voice breaks. “I didn’t ask to be dragged into your world or your wars!”
He laughs, low and humorless. “My world? You think this started with me?” He moves closer, so close I can see the storm in his eyes. “Your parents worked for the Petropoulos and Markovic families. You were born into this before you even knew what the Bratva was.”
My stomach twists. “So that means I don’t get a choice now?”
“It means you don’t understand what it takes to survive in this life,” he bites out. “You still think it’s about fairness. About choice. It’s not. It’s blood, Sasha. It’s debt. It’s enemies who don’t care if you’re innocent.”
“And you?” I ask, tears stinging my eyes. “Do you care if I’m innocent, or am I just another name you have to protect for your reputation?”
He looks like I slapped him. His jaw flexes, eyes darkening with something raw. “Don’t,” he says, voice low. “Don’t ever say that again.”
“Then tell me the truth!” I demand. “Tell me what all this really means. Why they want me. Why you won’t even let me walk outside without a shadow following me.”
He takes a step closer, grabs my wrist—not to hurt, but to make me look at him. His voice drops to a rough whisper. “Because if they take you, Sasha, I’ll burn every city from here to Athens to get you back. And I can’t afford to lose that kind of control.”
The fury in me falters, swallowed by the raw confession hanging between us.
My chest heaves. His grip softens.
“I don’t want to be your weakness, Lev,” I whisper.
His thumb brushes against my pulse, slow and possessive. “You already are.”
His jaw clenches, and for one impossible second, I think he might step away.
But then his mouth finds mine.
It’s not gentle. It’s furious, desperate—a collision of everything we can’t say. My hands push against his chest, then pull him closer instead. He groans against my lips, and the sound goes straight through me.
Lev lifts me easily, his grip sure and unrelenting. My breath catches as he carries me toward the bedroom, the world narrowing to the pounding of our hearts and the sound of his low, uneven breathing against my ear.
When he sets me down, it’s not soft. It’s reverent and reckless all at once—a man trying to make sense of the one thing he can’t control.
For a moment, neither of us moves. His forehead rests against mine, our breaths tangled, our fury blurring into something darker, heavier, impossible to name.
Then something clicks inside him, a switch I can feel in the way his body tightens against mine.
His hand wraps around my throat again, pressing me gently but firmly into the bed, and he claims my mouth with his.
It’s rough, demanding, and I can’t help how my body reacts—pleasure flickering through every nerve.
“Lev,” I whisper, breathless, trying to protest.
“Shh,” he murmurs against my lips, silencing me.
Before I can say another word, he discards my clothes, leaving me bare under him, and a wave of groundbreaking relief washes through me. I feel exposed, yes—but safe. Complete. Finally.
He takes off his own clothes just as deliberately, and my hands move over his body like he does mine—memorizing, exploring, claiming. Every curve, every muscle, every shiver of heat between us is a language we speak without words.
More kisses, desperate and consuming, trail down my neck, my chest, my stomach. I arch into him as he moves lower, and then his mouth finds my breast, capturing my nipple with a slow, reverent hunger that makes my toes curl and my body shiver.
His other hand snakes down my body, tracing every curve until it finds the heat between my thighs. His fingers slip inside me, deliberate, probing, and I gasp, arching into him instinctively.
He finds my clit with his thumb, and when I scream, he doesn’t stop—he continues, driving me higher, faster, making me tremble beneath him, a dangerous mix of possession and desire that leaves me trembling, completely undone in his hands.
“Please, Lev. I can’t wait anymore,” I whisper, desperate. My fingers reach between our bodies to wrap around his erection, feeling the heat, the hardness, the weight of him.
He growls deep in his throat, a low, dangerous sound that sends a shiver straight through me. Before I can do more than gasp, he waves my hands away and slides inside me in a single, powerful thrust.
I cry out, the sensation overwhelming, every nerve on fire as he fills me completely.
His grip on my hips tightens, anchoring me to him as our bodies move together, slow at first, intentional, savoring every inch.
The intensity builds, dark and consuming, and I can feel us spiraling, lost in the heat and need that’s been coiled between us for so long.
He thrusts like a man possessed, each movement wild and relentless, and I react like I’m losing my mind. My body writhes beneath him, every nerve alight, every shiver and gasp escaping in incoherent, breathless murmurs.
I clutch at him, nails digging into his back, arching into every movement, riding the storm of sensation he drags me through. Heat and need coil so tightly inside me that it feels like I might combust, my cries echoing off the walls, raw and untamed.
Then, finally, I shatter. My body convulses around him, every scream and gasp tearing from me, a release so overwhelming it leaves me trembling, spent, utterly his.
And still, he doesn’t stop. His eyes darken, jaw tight, and he drives himself through me one last time, groaning deep in his throat as he finds his own release, shuddering, lost in the connection we’ve created.
We collapse together, slicked with sweat, bodies tangled, hearts hammering in unison. Every part of me is alive, aching, and yet soothed in the aftermath of the storm we’ve made. I fall beside him, breathing in his scent.
The room is quiet now. The storm between us has burned itself out, leaving only the sound of our breathing and the faint hum of the night beyond the windows.
Lev lies beside me, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm that almost lulls me. His hand rests on my stomach—heavy, warm—like a silent vow he doesn’t know how to speak.
The silence between us isn’t soft; it’s thick with everything we didn’t say. I should still be angry—part of me is—but it’s hard to hold onto fury when his presence anchors me like this.
For the first time since all of this began, I don’t feel exposed or hunted.
I feel…safe.
Safe because he’s here. Because I know, deep down, that whatever comes next, Lev will burn the world before he lets anyone touch me again.
And that terrifies me just as much as it comforts me.
I turn to him, my fingers tracing the line of his jaw, rough and shadowed. He looks exhausted—more than I’ve ever seen him—but still impossibly steady, like he’s holding the whole world together with his bare hands.
Before I can stop myself, the words slip out, raw and trembling.
“I’m falling in love with you, Lev.”
His body stills. The air changes. His hand on my stomach freezes, and when his eyes find mine, they’re wide—startled, almost disbelieving.
I swallow hard, forcing the rest out before I lose my nerve.
“I just…need you to take care of me. Like you promised. I can handle almost anything, but not if it means losing you in the process.”
For a long moment, he doesn’t speak. Just looks at me, as if he’s trying to decide whether I really said what he thinks I did. Then, quietly—like the words taste strange in his mouth—he says,
“You’re sure? You’re sure you love me?”
Something flickers in his eyes—fear, wonder, maybe both.
I nod without hesitation. “I am.” My voice doesn’t shake this time. “I know what I feel, Lev. I love you.”
For a moment, he just looks at me, his throat working as if the words caught somewhere deep. Then he exhales, almost like a man surrendering after a long war.
“I love you too, Sasha,” he says quietly. “More than I ever should.”
Something inside me cracks open at those words. I reach for him, and he gathers me against his chest, his body warm and solid, his heartbeat steady beneath my palm.
We don’t say anything else. We just hold on—tightly, desperately—as if the world outside that room no longer exists.
Sleep comes slowly, with his breath on my neck and his hand still tangled in my hair.
For the first time in forever, I feel untouchable.