Chapter 15
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Julia
It’s been over two days since Maksim left, and there hasn’t been a single sign from him. I didn’t expect him to reach out, though I’ve been glued to my laptop, trying to absorb every bit of information he gave me.
Zoya let me into the kitchen and showed me how to make oladyi, a type of Russian pancake. I tried to get her to talk more, but her answers barely stretched beyond three words, always accompanied by a suspicious look.
Now, I’m stuck in this room while rain pours outside, thunder rumbling and lightning flashing.
The temperature inside is fine, but I’m cold anyway—and I hate myself for thinking about those gray eyes.
Eyes that can say things that shrink my heart to the size of a flea one moment and leave without even a goodbye the next.
Logically, I understand his behavior. Growing up among these psychopaths has made it impossible for him to be normal. But there’s that sliver of soul in him that no one seems to notice and that’s the part that softens me.
Maksim is a protector through and through, and I have to remind myself that it’s not about me. I just happened to be the one he saved this time. When I’m gone, he’ll do the same for someone else.
And yet, there’s a bitter taste in my mouth.
Come on, Julia. It’s natural to feel attached to him. It’s normal to be physically drawn. I mean…he’s an attractive man.
But every rationalization feels like a sponge on the tip of my tongue. I can’t fall for this man when two little souls are waiting for me back home.
I decide to check on the girls and find a recording of them at school.
They look well—healthy even. My fingers brush against the screen as tears well up in my eyes.
I don’t know how long it will take for me to get out of here, but seeing their rosy cheeks and braided hair reassures me they’re okay.
For now, it’s better that they don’t know about me.
I can’t risk pulling them into this world by accident. I’d never forgive myself.
A knock at the door snaps me out of my thoughts, and my back straightens instantly.
Who could it possibly be?
The sound of rain tapping against the window and the pounding of my own heartbeat are all I hear.
Another knock. I move closer to the door, silent as a shadow.
No way am I opening it.
Maksim wouldn’t knock. Akim would’ve told me if it were him.
“Open this damn door!” a voice barks from the other side, sending my heartbeat into overdrive.
I rush to my laptop and shoot Akim a message.
It’s fine. Akim will come. He’s always close to the house.
But before I can even process my own reassurance, the door shakes violently. Three seconds—that’s all it takes for me to realize I don’t have minutes to spare. Whoever’s on the other side is about to break it down.
I don’t even have time to grab the gun hidden under the bed before the door splinters apart and a hulking figure storms into the room, his gaze locking onto me like I’m his next meal.
“They told me you were pretty,” he sneers, his voice dripping with something that makes my skin crawl, “but damn, I’ve never had anyone as exotic as you, little dove.”
“Maksim won’t be happy when he finds out you busted his door,” I say, surprised at how steady and firm my voice sounds despite the panic clawing at my chest.
His eyes roam over me, slow and deliberate, and I cross my arms over my chest, holding my ground.
“Leave now,” I repeat, “and I won’t mention this to him.”
He laughs—a deep, unsettling sound that echoes in the room like a bad omen.
Is everyone in this house completely unhinged? That gun is going in my bra from now on, I swear to God.
“I didn’t break anything,” he says with a smirk that makes every alarm in my head go off at once. “When Maksim gets back, he’ll hear you had some kind of meltdown and started screaming your head off. I just came to check on you…and poof, you’re gone.”
The way he says it sends chills down my spine because I know exactly what he means: if I don’t get out of this room now, there won’t be a “me” here when Maksim returns.
My only advantage is speed because I know I’m faster than him, but here’s the problem: he’s blocking the entire doorway, cutting off any chance of escape unless I can make him move.
Screaming won’t help; no one’s coming to save me. Something tells me this guy was sent here deliberately—too convenient that Maksim is gone and someone decides to kick down the door and come after me.
I take a few steps toward the bathroom, keeping my movements measured and calm. Just as I hoped, he shifts slightly to follow me, leaving enough space for me to slip past him if I time it right.
“If you don’t fight back,” he says with a sick grin, his eyes flicking down to my legs, “this will go easier for you.”
“Wrong girl,” I snap back without hesitation. “I like to scratch.”
Because if it comes down to it, I’d rather throw myself out that fucking window than let him lay a hand on me without putting up a fight.
I’ve lost once before, but not this time.
For a fleeting moment, Martin’s voice echoes in my head, a memory, and I take one deep breath.
The next instant, the man lunges at me like a predator closing in on its prey. Luckily, I drop low just in time and dart toward the doorway—but before I can make it out completely, his hand clamps around my ankle.
I hit the floor hard on my stomach as his laughter fills the room, like nails on a chalkboard. My ribs take most of the impact, and I can already feel a nasty bruise forming where they collided with the floorboards.
He kneels down, gripping my ankle tighter, but before he can do anything else, my foot connects with his chin in one sharp kick. The satisfying crack of pain escapes his mouth as he reels back slightly.
It’s not much but it’s enough for now.
“I’ll make sure they tear you in half, doll!” he snarls.
I don’t answer because I can’t waste time.
Akim’s words from yesterday echo in my mind, instructions on how to use my agility if I ever need to escape someone.
My movements are clumsy, unsteady, but I manage to wrench myself free.
The force of it nearly sends me tumbling forward, but I catch myself and bolt.
Then, I feel it: a crushing weight slamming into my back. My chest skids across the hallway floor as I realize he’s tackled me.
He flips me over with ease and pins my wrists above my head. His face hovers inches from mine, blood dripping from his mouth, and for some reason, maybe defiance or sheer madness, I smile.
The slap comes out of nowhere. I don’t even register it until the sting spreads across my cheek, my head snapping to the side from the force and I know it’ll leave a nasty mark.
A small whimper escapes me before I can stop it, and I hate myself for that moment of weakness. My entire head feels like it’s spinning from the blow, and his face blurs in and out of focus.
No. No. No! NOT AGAIN!
Panic and adrenaline surge through me, and somehow, one of my hands slips free from his grip. My instincts take over— I have to get him off me.
My nails dig into his eye, harder than I thought possible, until I’m sure I’m seconds away from gouging it out completely. His scream of agony is deafening as he jerks back, clutching his face in pain.
I don’t wait to see what happens next. I wriggle out from under him and run as fast as my legs will carry me.
His shouts echo behind me, but all I can focus on is the trembling in my legs, the sweat slicking my palms, and the rhythmic throbbing in my face where he hit me.
Akim. I have to find Akim.
I dash toward the staircase leading to the first floor. When I reach the bottom, I glance back to check how far behind he is.
He’s at the top of the stairs now, blood smeared across his chin and neck as he yells my name like a curse.
I turn back around to keep running, only to slam into something solid.
My hands instinctively press against a black T-shirt as a familiar scent fills my senses: rosemary, bergamot, cedarwood. Relief crashes over me so hard that tears prick at my eyes.
I look up, and there they are: gray eyes staring down at me with an intensity that makes everything else fade away.
Maksim.
His gaze flicks from my face to the top of the stairs where my attacker stands frozen, bloodied and trembling now that Maksim is here.
“Maksim,” I whisper, barely audible, but he hears me. He stops for a moment and turns back toward me.
Before I can process what’s happening, his pinky brushes against mine, a fleeting touch that feels like a silent promise: I’m here now. It’s going to be okay.
The next thing I know, Maksim pulls a gun from his waistband and fires without hesitation, hitting the asshole square in the knee.
The man screams in agony as he collapses down the stairs in a heap.
“Start talking, Gregory,” Maksim growls through gritted teeth.
I’ve heard people say someone’s eyes can go dark with rage, but until now, I’d never seen it happen for real.
The light gray of Maksim’s irises has deepened into something stormy and dangerous.
My heart pounds so hard it feels like it might burst, not because of the man bleeding on the floor, but because of Maksim.
Calm down , I tell myself. It’s over. Nothing happened.
But there’s a voice in my head whispering that my heart isn’t racing because of fear—it’s because of Maksim and the raw fury radiating off him as he stands there like he’s ready to tear Gregory apart limb by limb.
“What the hell is going on here?” the older man’s voice booms from the top of the stairs.
Maksim doesn’t even flinch. He lifts his gaze slowly toward him and answers without so much as a change in expression.
“If I find out you were behind this mess, Ivan, we’re going to have a problem!” Maksim’s voice cuts through the tension like a blade.
The old man narrows his eyes at me before shifting his gaze to the soldier, who’s now sobbing in a pool of his own blood.
“If I wanted to deal with your new toy, I’d have done it myself, son .”