Chapter 9 #2
I looked down at the card before sliding it into the back pocket of my jeans. Nikolai watched the movement with an expression so dark it almost made me nervous.
“Oh relax,” I muttered. “I’m not joining his cult.”
“That isn’t funny.”
“Neither is whatever this attitude is.”
His hand dragged through his dark hair roughly before he turned away from me toward the massive windows overlooking the estate grounds. For a second, I thought the conversation was over. Then—
“You don’t understand what men like him do.”
Something in his voice stopped me from immediately arguing. Beneath the frustration sat something genuinely disturbed .
I folded my arms across my chest. “You explained this earlier. So, you think I’m weak?”
“No.” His answer came instantly. “I think you’re too trusting when it comes to people who know how to manipulate emotions.”
I almost laughed at the irony considering the man currently speaking specialized in emotional damage himself.
“You’re acting insane over a phone number,” I pointed out.
“I’m acting insane because the second men like Malrik notice something matters to you, they use it against you.” His gaze locked onto mine again. “And you matter to me.”
There it was. That brutal honesty that somehow slipped out of him when emotions got too close to the surface. My stomach tightened violently, because he meant it. There wasn’t manipulation in his voice. No calculated charm. No game. Just raw unwanted truth.
I looked away first because maintaining eye contact suddenly felt dangerous .
“Well,” I muttered lightly, “that sounds emotionally concerning.”
A rough almost-exhale left him. Not quite a laugh. Close enough to count. Then the expression vanished again.
“You should stay away from him.”
There it was again. That line between concern and control he constantly blurred. My irritation returned immediately.
“You know,” I said slowly, “you’d probably have more success asking instead of ordering.”
His eyes darkened slightly. “And you’d probably have more success staying alive if you listened.”
“Oh my God!” I threw my hands into the air before turning toward the office doors. “I’m going outside before one of us commits a felony.”
“Emerald!”
I glanced back over my shoulder. “What?”
Something shifted across his face then. The anger softened just enough for exhaustion to show through underneath it.
“Don’t call him.”
The quietness in his voice hit harder than the command had. Not because he expected obedience, because he sounded genuinely worried. I didn’t answer. I just left before he could see how much that expression affected me.
The gardens behind the estate were my get away spot once I was able to roam freely around the estate.
The wind moved softly through the flowers lining the stone pathways while late afternoon sunlight spilled gold across the fountain near the center courtyard.
Somewhere deeper in the gardens birds chirped softly, completely unaware that inside the estate an emotionally unstable man was probably one bad decision away from homicide.
Normally I liked it out here. Today my thoughts wouldn’t shut up long enough to enjoy anything.
I walked aimlessly down the path replaying the office scene over and over again. The look on Nikolai’s face. The tension in his voice. The way he’d practically crossed the room like instinct alone dragged him toward me the second I took the card.
None of it made sense. Not completely. I hated not understanding things. Especially when everyone around me constantly acted like I should stay comfortably ignorant while they handled the ugly truths themselves.
I was tired of it. Tired of being protected.
Tired of everyone deciding what I could and couldn’t know.
Yet underneath all of that frustration sat another realization I couldn’t ignore no matter how hard I tried.
Nikolai hadn’t looked angry when Malrik spoke to me.
He’d looked terrified of what Malrik might do to me .
I sank onto the edge of the fountain with a frustrated sigh before dropping my face into my hands briefly.
“Talking to yourself in the murder garden?”
I looked up. Viktor approached holding two coffee cups looking deeply unsurprised to find me emotionally spiraling alone outside. Honestly, that man saw entirely too much.
“You people desperately need hobbies,” I muttered.
He handed me one of the coffees anyway before lowering himself beside me on the fountain edge. The fountain water rippled softly nearby while the estate loomed behind us massive and quiet beneath the fading sunlight.
Then Viktor sighed. “He threw a lamp through the wall.”
I blinked in surprise. “What?”
“The office lamp.” Viktor took a slow drink of coffee. “Also, a chair.”
I stared at him. “You’re kidding.”
“He smashed the whiskey cart too.”
My eyes widened slightly. “That expensive crystal one?”
“Yes. ”
“…wow.”
Silence settled briefly. Then curiosity won. “Why is he acting like this?”
Viktor leaned back slightly against the fountain edge, gaze drifting toward the estate windows.
“You really don’t understand what’s happening here, do you?”
“That sounds ominous.”
“It probably should.”
I frowned slightly. “Viktor.”
He exhaled quietly through his nose. “Nikolai doesn’t handle attachment well.”
His words slid under my skin far too easily. “I noticed,” I said lightly.
“No.” Viktor glanced toward me. “I mean genuinely.” Something in his tone erased the teasing mood immediately.
“You know Lucien raised him to believe love was weakness?”
The words hit hard enough to stop me cold. “What?”
Viktor stared out across the gardens while he spoke .
“Lucien didn’t raise children,” he said quietly. “He created weapons.” Cold slid slowly down my spine.
“Nikolai spent most of his childhood learning that caring about people got them hurt.” Something painful tightened inside my chest.
“When he was around eight,” Viktor continued softly, “he had a dog.”
Oh no. The thought formed instantly before he even continued, and judging by Viktor’s expression—he knew exactly where my mind went.
“Nikolai skipped training one afternoon to sit outside with it,” Viktor said. “Lucien found them together.” My stomach twisted violently.
“He shot the dog in front of him.”
The air left my lungs. “What?”
Viktor looked down into his coffee. “Told him attachment made men weak.”
Horror crawled slowly through my body. At first my brain refused to picture it. Then suddenly the unwanted images played through my mind. Eight-year-old Nikolai standing there frozen while the only thing he loved bled out in front of him because Lucien wanted to prove a point.
My chest physically hurt. God. No wonder Nikolai looked at emotions like they were dangerous. No wonder every vulnerable moment seemed to cost him something. No wonder he acted like caring about people was equivalent to handing enemies a loaded weapon.
“He buried it himself,” Viktor added quietly.
Something inside me cracked open at the image.
The fountain water moved softly nearby while my thoughts spiraled harder and harder.
Every interaction with Nikolai suddenly looked different in my head.
The control. The distance. The possessiveness.
The way he constantly fought himself anytime emotions surfaced.
It wasn’t because he didn’t feel things. It was because he’d been taught feelings destroyed people.
“I think,” Viktor said after a moment, “you’re the first thing he’s cared about in a very long time.” Emotion climbed sharply into my throat. “And that terrifies him.”
I looked down into my coffee because suddenly my eyes burned. Nikolai wasn’t trying to control me because he thought I was weak. He was trying to protect the one thing that made him vulnerable.
I stood abruptly before I could think too deeply about it.
Viktor looked up immediately. “Where are you going?”
“To find your emotionally damaged psychopath.”
“That narrows it down absolutely everyone in this house. ”
Despite myself, I snorted softly before heading back toward the estate.
The upstairs hallway sat silent when I reached it. Nikolai’s bedroom door remained partially open. I pushed it wider carefully—and stopped.
The room looked destroyed. Glass glittered across the hardwood near the fireplace.
One of the chairs had been split apart completely.
Papers scattered everywhere alongside shattered pieces of what used to be a lamp.
The sharp smell of whiskey lingered heavily in the air from the overturned cart near the wall.
Jesus Christ. He really did lose control.
My gaze moved slowly through the destruction before landing on him. Nikolai sat on the edge of the bed with his elbows braced against his knees, head lowered while his hands flexed slowly together.
He looked, unraveled. Something in me melted instantly at the sight. For the first time since meeting him, Nikolai didn’t look untouchable. He looked human.
I stepped into the room carefully, closing the door quietly behind me.
“Nikolai.” He didn’t answer.
I crossed the room slowly through the wreckage before lowering myself onto my knees directly in front of him. That finally got his attention .
His eyes lifted toward mine, and God. The amount of rage trapped inside them nearly stole the air from my lungs. Not directed at me. At himself.
My hands moved carefully toward his wrists. Warm skin. Tense muscles. His knuckles were scraped raw and faintly bloodied from smashing something.
“You’re bleeding,” I whispered.
“I don’t care.” The roughness in his voice hurt. He looked exhausted beneath the fury.
“I don’t know why I’m acting like this,” Nikolai admitted quietly.
The honesty in the statement hit with more force than I was prepared for.
“You’re angry.”
A humorless sound left him. “No,” he said. “I know anger.” His gaze dropped briefly toward the floor. “This feels worse.”