Chapter 21 – Violet
It’s been a full day since we returned to the estate, but nothing feels like home.
The halls are quieter, yet more heavily patrolled than ever—men in dark clothes and harder expressions posted at nearly every entrance, eyes sharp and unblinking. I wander through it all like a ghost, ignored, but watched.
Kaz says everything is fine.
He whispered it to me last night with his lips in my hair, his hand splayed protectively over my stomach. He kissed me like a man trying to erase blood with tenderness.
But I know better.
I haven’t seen Arina. Or Maxim. And no one’s mentioned Milos. I don’t dare ask Kaz—not yet—but the silence around those names is deafening. The walls here carry secrets. I can feel them pressing in.
Something happened while I was away.
Something that changed the air here.
Something Kaz is keeping from me.
I walk past the grand staircase, my fingers grazing the polished banister. My reflection in the tall mirror across the hallway catches me off guard.
Pale skin. Tired eyes. Hair loosely braided down my back. I barely recognize her. Who am I now?
Not the girl who once shot crime scenes for a living. Not the one who stayed up late editing photos and chasing light. That girl feels far away—buried under marble floors, beneath screams and gunshots, behind all the ways I’ve been broken and put back together.
I bring a hand to my stomach. A baby. My baby.
Our baby.
The thought still feels too big to hold. And yet, it’s the only thing keeping me steady right now.
But I can’t live like this. I can’t keep waiting for the next explosion, the next betrayal, the next lie. My life is in limbo, and I’ve been surviving on adrenaline and Kaz’s promises, but I need something more than whispered reassurances in the middle of the night.
I need clarity. I need a future that isn’t made of violence and shadows. I need Kaz to be honest with me. The thought strengthens something inside me. A resolve.
I’ll go talk to him. Really talk to him. Because something has to change. Or I’m not sure how much longer I can do this.
I push open the heavy door to Kaz’s study, expecting to find him at his desk or maybe pacing like he always does when something’s on his mind. But instead, there’s someone else.
A man.
He’s lounging in one of the leather chairs like he owns the place, one leg crossed over the other, dark suit perfectly tailored, the cuffs of his shirt crisp against tanned skin. His hair is short, black, in a meticulous buzz. Everything about him is sharp—his jawline, his posture, his presence.
He looks up slowly, his eyes sweeping over me with a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Well,” he says, voice rich and smooth like good whiskey. “So you’re the reason Kazimir Rusnak is losing both his mind…and his edge.”
I blink, then step further into the room, squaring my shoulders. “No,” I say calmly, “I’m the reason he’s better than he’s ever been.”
His smirk deepens. “Touché.”
There’s a long pause where neither of us moves, his gaze never leaving mine. He studies me the way a predator might study an unfamiliar animal—curious, amused, not entirely trusting.
“And you are?” I ask finally.
He stands, slow and deliberate, like he’s not used to being rushed. “Nikolai Volkov-Rusnak,” he says, reaching out a hand I don’t take. “But you can call me Niko. I’m…an old friend of Kaz’s.”
Friend. The word hangs suspiciously in the air. I glance at his hand, then back to his face, not bothering with pleasantries.
He drops his arm and chuckles like I’ve passed some unspoken test.
“I’m also someone who’s seen what Kaz becomes when he cares too much,” he adds, eyes narrowing slightly. “And trust me, sweetheart—you should pray he never loses his edge. Because that edge? That’s the only thing standing between you and a bullet right now.”
My spine stiffens, but I don’t look away. Instead, I let out a dry, bitter laugh and shake my head.
“You know what I don’t get about you Bratva men?” I say, taking a slow step forward. “You drag innocent women into your chaos. Into your blood-soaked power games. And then you act like you’re the ones doing us a favor by keeping us alive.”
Niko raises an eyebrow, that ever-present smirk still lingering. But I’m not finished.
“I didn’t ask for any of this. I didn’t want to be part of this world. But I stayed.” I swallow hard, my voice catching. “I stayed because somewhere along the way…I fell in love with Kaz.”
The words hang in the air, weighty and sharp.
My heart thunders in my chest. I’ve thought it. I’ve felt it. But I’ve never said it out loud until now. Not even to him. And hearing myself say it, hearing the word love—it’s like a crack running through the center of me, letting everything pour out.
I don’t know when it happened. Maybe it was the first night he looked at me like I wasn’t just a pawn. Or the way he holds me like I’m the only thing anchoring him to this world. Or maybe it was the pain in his eyes when he had to lock me away to keep me safe. But it’s there. It’s real.
I love him.
I feel my throat tighten, my eyes burn, but I blink the tears back.
Niko watches me carefully now, no longer amused. There’s something new in his gaze—something closer to respect. Or maybe understanding.
I’m about to walk away from his intense gaze when my burner phone rings. The shrill, unfamiliar sound slices through the silence, jolting me back into my body. I stare at it in disbelief. That phone doesn’t receive calls. It’s not supposed to. It’s a one-way line.
My hands tremble as I pick it up.
Noelle.
My chest tightens. “Girl, how’s your call coming in? Is this a glitch or—?”
Her voice crackles through, distorted, like it’s dragging itself through static and fire. I frown and put it on speaker.
“Noelle? What’s going on?”
Through the broken static, I hear her voice barely breaking through, panicked, garbled:
“—et out. He doesn’t know—Arina—watching—”
I freeze.
“What?” I shout. “Noelle! Say that again!”
But the line is already crumbling, slipping through my fingers like sand.
“Noelle! Noelle, talk to me!”
Nothing.
The call drops.
I immediately redial—but the number is unreachable. Again. And again. A robotic voice keeps repeating the same thing.
Panic tightens like a rope around my lungs. My hands are shaking now. She said something about Arina watching, and I’m more shocked at how she knows Arina. What exactly is Noelle into?
“Who was that?” Niko asks, eyes narrowing on me.
But I don’t answer.
I bolt.
My heart’s hammering in my chest as I tear through the halls, ignoring the guards and the weight of my own panic. I need to find Kaz. Now. I don’t knock when I reach his door—I just barge in.
He’s inside, pulling a shirt over his head, but the moment he sees me, his expression shifts from mild surprise to instant concern.
“Violet?”
“What are you not telling me?” I shout, my voice cracking. “Kaz, what the hell is going on?”
He steps toward me like he’s going to explain something—maybe—but then he just wraps his arms around me and kisses me.
Hard. Fierce.
I yank away.
“Where is Arina?” I demand, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “Where are they?”
He doesn’t answer. He just stares at me like silence is supposed to be comforting.
I feel it start to unravel inside me—all the pressure, the fear, the exhaustion, the heartbreak. It all snaps loose. A sob bursts out of me before I can stop it.
Kaz’s expression shifts. “What’s wrong?” he asks, stepping closer again.
I shake my head, the tears already burning down my cheeks. “I just….” My voice shakes. “I don’t know what I am to you, Kaz. I don’t know what this is anymore. I don’t know what I am to you.”
He growls—low, possessive, frustrated—and grabs me by the waist, pulling me in again, this time with less anger and more desperation.
“You’re mine,” he says against my mouth. “You’re mine, Violet. That’s all that matters.”
His hands slide down to my thighs, and he lifts me. A gasp escapes me as my legs instinctively wrap around his torso, my arms clutching his shoulders. His grip is firm, possessive, like he’s anchoring himself to me just as much as I’m clinging to him.
“Kaz—” I whisper, but my voice catches.
His eyes are wild. Unreadable. Something between hunger and heartbreak. “Don’t question what you are to me,” he murmurs, voice ragged. “You’re everything.”
His eyes go wild with lust, and even though I’m full of questions at that moment, I cannot resist. He places me on the bed and climbs over me, his hands fumbling with my dress and pushing it up to my hips. A moan filters out of my mouth, and he hasn’t even touched me yet.
“You’re mine, you hear me?” he mumbles against my skin, yanking my panties aside with one hand and shoving down his pants with the other. His cock springs free, and I instinctively spread my legs wider, inviting him in.
He doesn’t waste a second. He slams into me, hot and fast. I cry out, wrapping my legs around his back and pulling him in deeper.
He pounds into me, his hot breath on my neck, murmuring sweet nothings in Russian.
We both don’t last long. It’s too heated.
Too hard. The moment he wraps his mouth around my breasts through my clothes, I’m coming hard and fast with a scream.
“Fuck!” He pounds into me one last time before pulling out and emptying himself on the bed.
Now that the high has worn off, I’m aware that all my questions are still unanswered, and I know Kaz will not answer them. I push away from him the moment it’s over, skin still flushed and heart still racing, but not from pleasure anymore.
“I need to think,” I say, breathless—but it’s not from him now. It’s from everything spinning in my head. Noelle’s voice. The call. The silence.
Kaz tries to reach for me again, but I shake my head, adjusting my dress and slipping out of the room before I change my mind. I don’t know where I’m going until I do.
Arina’s room.
My feet move fast, silent against the wooden floors of the east wing. I don’t even think about what I’ll say—what excuse I’ll give if they’re inside—because I already know something is wrong. Deep in my gut, I’ve known it for a while. Now I need proof.
The door is unlocked.
Red flag number one.
I slip in and close it quietly behind me. The room is cool, dim, still scented faintly of citrus and gun oil. Organized chaos. Their signature.
I don’t mean to snoop—but it’s like my hands have a mind of their own. I head toward the desk, already half-open, and start flipping through folders scattered on top of it. Memos. Maps. Surveillance footage stills.
And then I see it.
My name. Printed in red ink. Not once—twice.
Target: Violet Harrison
Status: Active
Price: $4,000,000
Price? Four million?
I go cold.
It’s on a kill list. A literal printed sheet with names, status updates, and monetary figures beside them. There are other names, most I don’t know, but mine—mine—is the one that’s circled. Underlined.
Double-underlined.
My legs almost give out. I grab the edge of the desk to steady myself. My breath comes short and quick. The walls press in around me.
This…this doesn’t make sense. But it does. It makes too much sense. I’ve been living with the enemy all this time and now, I must make a decision that’ll determine whether or not I get out of this alive.