Chapter 45
Aurelia
“You can’t be serious.” I tug at the hoodie and sweatpants Nikolai handed me, trying to make sense of the ridiculous outfit. The fabric swallows me completely—sleeves falling past my fingertips, sweatpants bunching around my ankles.
“Deadly,” he clips.
I glance down at myself, trying not to laugh at the absurdity. “I can’t even walk in this.”
“Lovely. Then you won’t be able to walk around with my men trying to seduce them.” He smirks with clear satisfaction.
I force a laugh, biting back the urge to argue. “I don’t have to show off my body to seduce your easy men. Plus, I still don’t have any underwear, so that helps.”
His head tilts slightly, eyes narrowing just enough to let me feel the weight of his scrutiny. “Well, let’s hope it doesn’t. Because I can’t keep killing people for you.”
The silence stretches as Nikolai steps close, his presence pressing against me.
He doesn’t speak, just lets his gaze take in every line of the oversized hoodie, the way I shrink into it. Then, wordlessly, he reaches for me.
His hand brushes along my arm with a controlled gentleness that makes my chest tighten.
He doesn’t linger for comfort. Instead, he guides me towards the door of his room, stopping with a hand on the black knob.
“Do you love him?”
“What?” He won’t even turn to me, but his voice is much softer, one he hasn’t used with me yet.
“Are you in love with Elijah?” he repeats.
A laugh escapes my lips. “Oh my god.”
He turns to face me now, one hand still on my arm that’s covered in fabric and the other on the door, glaring at me, unimpressed by my laughter.
“Are you jealous?” I question.
“Yes,” his response is immediate, and I close my mouth at the intensity of it.
I can’t find the courage to come up with a response, so after holding my gaze, he pulls open the door and walks me down the stairs, deliberate steps, each one echoing down the corridor.
The air between us is taut—dangerous, electrified, intimate. I stay close, aware of the heat radiating off him without ever touching him directly.
When we reach the lower level, he remains silent, unlocking the gate with meticulous precision, the metal clinking in the near-silence.
I stumble slightly as he releases me, and my eyes immediately find Adrian.
He’s slumped near the corner, bent over, barely holding himself upright. His face is swollen, streaked with bruises and blood, his hands trembling as he props himself on the floor. My stomach twists at the sight, sympathy and horror clawing at me. I rush forward instinctively.
“He… he’s been… pushing too far,” I mutter under my breath, barely audible. My hands twitch, wanting to help.
Nikolai’s shadow falls over us, but his expression is unreadable. He watches me, watching Adrian, the tension in the room palpable. Then, quietly, he steps closer to me.
His hand brushes a stray strand of hair behind my ear. The gesture feels almost tender, a stark contrast to the violence surrounding us.
“Yego zhizn’ ne imeyet znacheniya, no ya pozabochus’ o tvoyey,” he says softly, the words carrying heavier in Russian.
I freeze at the sound of it, my chest tightening in a way I can’t hide.
“Come,” he whispers.
And I follow, stretching my legs out for him to lock.
Once my ankles are bound I lean forward, but he doesn’t move with me.
Is he not putting the collar on?
The unspoken power in that choice makes my pulse race, and I sense the weight of him even more.
He’s so confusing. It’s clear he has issues, I mean he kidnapped me, killed Sergio, keeps me chained, and treats me like I’m disposable, yet, he’s still gentle, taking moments like this to prove he cares about me.
Then, without another word, he steps back, letting the chains settle, letting me feel the difference between confinement and his protection.
He’s a complete psycho.
The echo of his boots fade, and I’m left standing in the half-light, heart still racing.
Adrian slowly lifts his head, swollen eyes meeting mine. His words come out hoarse, weak, barely more than a whisper. “You… you came back.”
I rush to him as fast as I can, the added weight slowing me only slightly. Kneeling beside him, I brush a bead of sweat from his forehead. “I’m here,” I say softly. “We’ll figure this out.”
His hand surrounds my waist, taking me close and bringing me to his side. He lets his weight rest against my shoulder, and for a moment we sit in a fragile quiet—the danger outside pressing in, the bruises and blood between us.
A thread of understanding passes silently. And somewhere above, Nikolai’s influence lingers, a shadowed reminder that every breath, every movement, every decision belongs, at least in part, to him.
Eventually, Adrian’s bloodied, swollen eyes blink open and lock onto mine. He sags back against the wall, exhaling, his mouth pulling tight. “I… I don’t think I can hold on much longer down here. It’s… getting worse every day.”
“Then let me help. You’ve done more for me than anyone in this place. You shouldn’t have to fight this alone.”
He shakes his head, almost dismissively. “You can’t fix this. You’re… not like them. You can’t—”
“Yes, I can,” I interrupt firmly, letting the edge of my voice leave no room for argument. “I can and I will. My family has resources. Contacts I can use to get you out. But I need your trust.”
His eyes search mine, flickering between hope and the brutal reality of this cage.
For a heartbeat, I feel the weight of it all—the danger, the blood, the chains, the men who would kill us both if they suspected anything.
Finally, he exhales, shoulders loosening slightly.
“Alright,” he mutters, low. “Alright… let’s see if your people are worth a damn. ”
A spark of determination flares inside me. “They will be. I’ll make sure of it. Enzo, he’s different. My father doesn’t see it, but Enzo will change the way business is conducted. He will help you.”
We sit close in the dim light, shadows swallowing the corners of the room. The faint hum of the ventilation is almost deafening, punctuating our fragile silence.
I lean in just slightly, careful not to crowd him, brushing dried blood from his face. The gesture is tender, a small rebellion against the brutality surrounding us. He flinches at the touch, then relaxes, and for a moment I see the exhaustion in his eyes give way to trust, fragile but real.
I glance toward the doorway, muscles tightening. Even though Nikolai isn’t there, I feel the weight of his presence pressing against us like a predator in the dark. Adrian follows my gaze, sensing the tension.
“You’re thinking about him again,” he says with concern.
I shake my head. “No. Just… aware.”
He smirks faintly, but the tightness in his jaw betrays the truth: we both know the reach of Nikolai’s control, the danger in a single misstep, and the cost of failure.
“I don’t care about Nikolai right now.” My hand follows the trace of his face, trying to ease his pain. “I care about you.”