Chapter Nine
Emilia's POV.
The world tore open before I could breathe. One second, it was quiet, and the next, glass exploded around us, like a rain of knives. I barely had time to scream before Viktor threw his arm around me and slammed me to the floor. He folded me beneath him, using his body like a shield.
Another shot cracked the air, and my ears rang. My heart drummed in my throat.
"Stay down," Viktor practically barked.
He wasn't crushing me, but he was a wall, and I felt his weight, steady and heavy.
The door burst open, and Dimitri stormed in with his gun up; his eyes were hard. "Clear the windows!" he shouted, while two guards ran after him, rifles sweeping every shadow.
I couldn't move. My fingers clenched Viktor's sleeve until my knuckles hurt. I was small, raw, furious, and scared all at once.
Dimitri looked at the broken window, then at me. He didn't soften. "Professional shot, not random. " He said, his voice flat. "That shot was for her."
"For me?" I whispered, and my stomach dropped away.
"One of Romano's rivals," Dimitri said. "They want to humiliate you. Prove you can't protect what's yours."
Viktor's jaw locked, and his hand on my wrist became a vise. "They just signed their own death warrant," he said, coldly.
Guards scanned the balcony and yelled updates. The room buzzed with motion, the bullet's sound kept looping in my head like a threat.
I wanted to ask why, why me? Why now? Dimitri's words answered before I could speak. I wasn't a person to them, but I was leverage, a weak point they could strike at.
Or a pawn on a chessboard... That thought lit a hot flame in my chest. Men were running through the halls with guns because of me. Because I'd been pulled into this life. Because of me, someone wanted to show Viktor he was weak.
"I shouldn't be here," I said, my voice breaking. "This is insane."
Viktor turned his head slowly, like a predator considering his prey. "You're here because I put you here," he said. His voice was low and sharp. "You'll stay where I put you."
"People could have died... for me." My words felt ridiculous.
"They will die," he said plainly. "But you won’t."
His voice hit me harder than the gunshot. He sounded like a man who would burn a city just to keep one person breathing.
Dimitri pulled out his phone. "We move. The sniper had backup. Sweep the grounds."
"Do it," Viktor snapped without taking his eyes off me. His thumb brushed my wrist hard, but not unkind. I wanted to yank my hand free, but his touch was iron.
The guards left, and the suite was a mess. Glass glittered on the floor like frozen rain. Cold air rushed in through the broken window.
"You're bleeding," I said before I could stop myself. A thin red line cut across his temple.
He didn't look at it. "You're shaking," he answered.
Of course, I was shaking. I'd almost been killed, but under the fear was something else... The tight grip he had on me left me angry and confused. He held me like I belonged to him and didn't plan to let go.
"You are mine," he cut in. No softness. No questions. "And no one touches what's mine."
The wind whispered through the broken glass, and his words sat heavy between us.
I should have pushed back, told him he was mad. I should really have told him I wasn't an object, but the words died under his gaze, and a part of me— raw and aching— listened and believed.
The suite smelled of smoke and iron. My hands still trembled, but something in me moved, and I refused to be helpless.
"That's nothing," he said, trying to shrug away the cut. He sounded annoyed at being fussed over.
"You're bleeding," I said, softer this time.
He gave me a look like he was weighing me. "It's just glass, don't fuss."
My hand moved before my head agreed, and I pressed my palm to the cut. His hair grazed my knuckles, and his skin wasn't cold like I'd thought it would be. He watched me like a man gauging how much he should trust.
"Don't be reckless," I said, my voice shaking. "You could've been hit."
"I know," he said. Then, "And you could stop praying." I was almost amused.
"I'm not praying, I'm helping." I grabbed a napkin, tore it, though my hands were clumsy.
"You're touching me without being ordered. Progress," he said, smirking.
"Don't be an ass." I dabbed. The napkin shredded. The blood wasn't much, but it felt like an accusation. He'd risked himself for me. And something in my chest tightened.
"You're impossible," I muttered.
"And you're stubborn," he said. He leaned close. His breath brushed my face, and I felt pulled toward him like a tide.
"Why keep me if it draws fire?" I asked. "If it hurts people?"
He didn't answer at once. But when he did, his voice was a dangerous whisper. "Because I don't let go of things I want."
"You want me?" I asked, though scared to hear the answer.
He looked at me like it was the only fact he needed. "You're mine."
I pressed the napkin harder, trying to breathe. He reached up, slowly and deliberately brushing the corner of my lips with his thumb. My heart tripped.
"Don't," I breathed.
He gave a soft predator smile. "You're finally touching me without throwing a fit; it’s new."
"You enjoy tormenting me," I snapped.
He closed the space between us. "
I enjoy making you feel wanted, safe, and if you let me," he said, "making you feel alive."
I pushed his chest, and he let me. He wanted the fight, but I wanted to believe I didn't need his kind of safety.
Then his thumb traced my lower lip. And he kissed me. It was harsh and demanding. "Stop," I said, but he laughed in my mouth. "Let me," he breathed.
Then something inside me broke, the armor slid away, and I let him pull me closer.
**********
The room felt too small after the kiss… too fragile. Like, even breathing might shatter it. I lay on the edge of the wide bed hours later, staring at the ceiling, the words ‘you're mine’ running in endless circles through my head.
His claim clung closer to me than the sheets. Was this captivity? Or was it something darker, something I didn't want to name? The safety I'd felt when his arms had been around me and the world was breaking outside confused me.
I turned onto my side, watching the faint glow from the broken window where the curtains swayed in the night air. The city outside was restless, and I could hear cars, distant sirens, and the occasional shout that carried through the streets. Every sound made my pulse jump.
Viktor sat in a chair near the window, his jacket was off, and a gun was resting on his thigh. He hadn't moved for an hour, maybe more. His eyes flickered to the window every few minutes, as if expecting another bullet to pierce the night.
"You should sleep," he said without looking at me.
I swallowed, and my voice came out smaller than I wanted. "And you?"
"I don't sleep when the walls are open." His eyes cut toward the broken pane, shards still clinging to the frame. His jaw flexed. "That shot wasn't the end. It was a message."
A chill ran down my spine. "From whom?"
"Probably your dad’s rivals," he said. His tone was sharp and sure. "Or someone else. There's a mole feeding them intel. That's the only way they knew where to aim."
The word mole twisted in my chest. Betrayal wasn't new to me, but hearing it here, in this fortress of shadows, felt different. It meant nothing was secure, not even this cage he kept me in.
I pulled my knees closer to my chest, whispering before I could stop myself. "So, no one can be trusted."
Victor's gaze locked on me; it was steady and fierce. "Me, you can trust me."
I didn't know if it was comfort or something else.
Silence stretched, filled with the rhythm of the city below.
My thoughts refused to quiet. Was I really starting to see him as more than my captor?
My heart was traitorous, remembering the heat of his mouth, the way he'd bled for me without flinching.
That kiss had been war, but I hadn't lost. I'd surrendered.
And the worst part was that I didn't regret it.
I pressed my palm to my face, trying to scrub the feeling away. "This is wrong," I muttered into the dark.
He stood suddenly, the chair legs scraping across the floor. His shadow loomed over me, tall and imposing. "Wrong?" he echoed, his voice low, rough with something I couldn't name.
I looked up, my breath catching as he towered above the bed. His shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, revealing the hard lines of his chest, scarred from years of violence. But his eyes burned, fixed on me like I was the only thing in his world.
"Viktor, I..." I started, but words failed as he knelt on the bed, his weight dipping the mattress. He moved slowly, deliberately, like a predator giving his prey a chance to run, but knowing he could catch it.
His hand cupped my cheek, thumb tracing the line of my jaw. "Tell me to stop," he said, his voice was like a gravelly whisper. "Tell me, and I will."
My body betrayed me, arching toward him as his fingers slid down my neck. It was gentle, so gentle I ached. He leaned in, his lips brushing mine... not claiming this time, but asking. The kiss started slowly, his mouth exploring mine with a tenderness that contrasted with his rough hands.
I moaned softly, placing my hands firmly on his chest to steady myself, feeling the rapid beat of his heart. "Viktor..." I breathed against his lips.
He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching mine. "I don't want to hurt you, Emilia. Ever." His words were a vow that made my core clench.
I nodded, pulling him closer. "Then don't stop."
He groaned, deep and primal, his hands caressing my body. He slowly peeled off my shirt, his fingers tracing my skin as if I were made of porcelain. "So beautiful," he murmured, his mouth trailing kisses down my neck, sucking gently at my pulse point until I gasped.
My pussy throbbed with need, wet already from the heat building between us. He slid lower, his tongue flicking over my nipple, sucking it into his mouth. I arched, my fingers tangling in his hair. "Oh god, Viktor..."
He switched to the other breast, biting softly, then circling with his tongue. "You taste like heaven," he said, his voice husky. His hand dipped between my legs, fingers brushing my panties. "So wet for me."
I whimpered, and my hips buckled. "Please..."
He smiled against my skin, slow and wicked. "Patience, printsessa." He hooked his fingers onto my panties, sliding them down my legs. His eyes darkened as he looked at my pussy, glistening and ready. "Fuck, you're perfect."
He spread my legs; his breath was hot on my inner thigh. I trembled as his tongue flicked out, tasting me. "Viktor!" I cried, my hands fisting the sheets.
He licked slow, rhythmic circles around my clit, setting my body on fire and making me tremble. "I care about you more than you know," he murmured. He slid a finger inside my pussy, curling it to hit a spot that made stars explode behind my eyes.
I moaned louder, my body writhing. "Don't stop... please..."
He added another finger, slowly pumping in and out while gently sucking my clit. The pleasure built, wild and intense, like a storm gathering. "Come for me, Emilia," he commanded, his free hand gently holding my hips, careful not to bruise.
I shattered, my pussy clenching around his fingers as he made me cum, waves of ecstasy crashing over me. "Viktor!" I screamed, my body shaking.
He kissed his way up my body. I could feel his cock hard against my thigh through his pants. "Good girl," he whispered, his eyes soft. "I won't hurt you."
I reached for his belt, undoing it with shaky hands. "I want you," I said, pulling his pants down. His cock sprang free, thick and hard, veins pulsing as I wrapped my hand around it, stroking slowly.
He groaned, his head falling back. "Fuck, Emilia..."
I guided him to my entrance, wet and ready. "Slow," I whispered, showing I trusted him.
He nodded, pushing inch by inch, his eyes locked on mine. "You feel so good," he said, his voice strained with restraint. He filled me completely, stretching my pussy tight.
I gasped, nails digging into his back. "More..."
He started thrusting, slow at first, rhythmic, each stroke deep and deliberate. "I care for you," he said, kissing my forehead. "I'll never hurt you."
He pumped harder, his cock driving deeper into my pussy with every thrust. I wrapped my legs around him, meeting his hips as he drove into me. "Yes, Viktor,” I moaned.
He growled, sucking on my neck, leaving marks. "Your pussy's so tight and wet for me." He wrapped his hand around the nape of my neck and gently squeezed, his gaze fierce. “Mine,” he said in a low growl as he fucked me faster.
I came again, my pussy milking his cock.
He roared, thrusting deeply one last time, his cum exploding inside me, hot and thick. He collapsed, panting, arms around me protectively.
"I mean it," he whispered, kissing my shoulder. "You're mine, but I'll never hurt you."
I nodded, feeling safe in his care, my body spent and satisfied.
************
The room was quiet, too quiet except for the slow rise and fall of his chest beneath my cheek.
My body was still trembling with the aftershocks of what we had just done.
It was raw, consuming, nothing like the gentle kind of love I had once imagined for myself.
Viktor hadn't given me that; he had taken, demanded, pulled me past every wall I had built.
And yet, against all reason, I hadn't resisted, not fully.
Now, with my skin still marked by his touch, I felt small in his arms. He held me like he owned me, heavy and unyielding, one arm looped tight around my waist as if, even in sleep, he refused to let me go.
His heartbeat thudded steadily beneath my ear, a rhythm that made my eyelids heavy, dragging me down into a piece I didn't trust.
I should have hated him, I should have pushed him away, reclaimed what little space I had. But I didn't. Instead, I let myself sink into him, my breast pressed against him, his warmth cocooning me against the cold reality waiting just beyond that broken window.
Somewhere in the haze, between sleep and thought, I wondered if this was safety or just another cage I had learned to mistake for shelter. His words from earlier echoed back, ‘you're mine.’
A shiver crawled over me, not from his touch, but from the sound that followed.
The soft groan of a floorboard outside the door.
A shift of weight, too precise to be the building settling.
My body tensed, but Viktor didn't stir. His hand flexed at my hips as if his instincts felt the threat even in rest.
I closed my eyes, my heart racing, caught between exhaustion and fear. The world outside hadn't forgotten us. Danger was still circling, and I was lying in the arms of the one man who promised he would kill before letting it touch me.
Then, from the hall, the lock clicked once, soft and final, and I knew with a cold certainty the night was only just beginning.