Chapter 23
This House Is on Lockdown
—Kira—
Iwoke to golden light slicing through the curtains. For a few moments, I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, letting memories from last night unspool in my mind. A warm ache throbbed between my thighs, proof of just how thoroughly Maksym had wrecked me.
Damn. At this point I was probably even more unhinged in bed than Valeria after everything that happened yesterday.
Then I snorted softly to myself. Nah. I take that back. The things she’d told me about… yeah, she was still winning that competition by a mile.
My gaze drifted toward the floor for a moment, my thoughts sliding back to Felix.
It wasn’t like I wanted him to watch.
I just needed him to know. Needed him to see exactly what he would never have—what would never belong to him.
That I was already claimed.
Completely. By Maksym.
Fucking Felix.
I used to think I wasn’t capable of that kind of cruelty.
My sharp tongue had caused damage, sure, but last night rewrote everything.
I didn’t feel shame. I felt satisfaction.
A sick sort of justice. The bastard deserved worse after what he did—what he tried to do.
After everything he’d taken from me. He tried to rape me.
He was the reason my mother was gone. And no part of me felt guilty for what I did. If anything, I wanted to do it again.
I reached for my phone.
The notifications were endless. News alerts, texts, missed calls. I blinked the sleep from my eyes and opened the first headline.
Prominent Moscow Heir Found Dead—Mutilated Body Discovered in Woods Outside Kyiv
I stared at the screen. At first, I didn’t feel anything. My heart didn’t race. My hands didn’t shake. I just… stared.
I opened the article, skimmed through the details. The tongue. The eyes. The arms. Villagers finding the body. Authorities suspecting foul play. The words felt like a slow punch to the chest.
I swallowed, sitting up straighter in bed, the sheets slipping off my shoulder. My phone trembled in my hand, not from fear—just from the weight of the moment.
Any normal girl would have recoiled by now.
Horror. Disgust. The kind that makes you gag when the details sink in.
Shooting someone is one thing—quick, distant.
But what he did went far beyond that. Torture.
Mutilation. Desecration. Another girl would be curled into herself, shaking, wondering how she let something so monstrous into her bed.
But I wasn’t normal.
I was just as broken as the man I kept inviting between my sheets.
Just as twisted as my monster—and I wasn’t interested in fixing him.
Hell, I’d fantasized about someone like him my entire life.
Someone unhinged enough to destroy anyone who dared touch me.
My father could parade a hundred new suitors in front of me now.
They’d all end the same way. Just like Stas. Just like Felix.
And the truth—the part that should have scared me most—was simple.
I wanted him more.
He reclaimed everything Felix tried to take.
With his fingers. His stare. His filthy mouth.
Maksym didn’t just punish him—he made sure he’d never violate anyone again.
He turned obsession into action. Violence into devotion.
A vow sealed in blood. He was feral and brutal and undeniably mine—and I would rather crawl through hell than let another man touch me in his place.
I lay back against the pillows, phone resting on my chest, heart beating slow and wrong.
Because this thing between us wasn’t one-sided.
He’d tear hearts from ribcages for me.
And I’d cradle his bloodied hands and whisper thank you.
He was my monster.
And I was his.
Just as I let myself sink into that dangerous thought—wrapped in obsession, heat, and something terrifyingly close to love—the door slammed open.
I jolted upright.
My father stormed into the room, face red with fury, his suit jacket half-buttoned like he hadn’t even finished dressing before charging in.
“Tell me everything that happened yesterday.“ His voice thundered across the room, sharp and cold and terrifying. “Now.”
“S-sorry?”
“Don’t play dumb,” he snapped. “Some guards say you left with Felix yesterday—after school. You were seen in his car. Where the hell did he take you?”
My body locked up completely, breath stalling as panic rushed in.
Thoughts tumbled over each other—what does he know?
Sashko had made me practice my answers the entire drive home, making sure I had every detail straight.
But fear still clawed its way up my back.
Normally lying came easy to me—too easy.
But right now my nerves were a mess. If he looked too closely, he’d see it.
I sat up straighter, clutching the sheet to my chest. “He took me to a party,” I said. “At the Fairmont. Just to meet some people. His friends.”
“What people?”
“I—I don’t know them,” I said quickly. “I didn’t recognize anyone.”
“Kira.” He stepped closer, his eyes blazing. “Give me names.”
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to keep it together. “One of them introduced himself. Kirill. Kirill Stashenko. And… there was another one. Jesus, I don’t know—Ivan? Ivan Ponomarenko, I think. There were others but… I don’t remember their names. I’m sorry, Dad.”
He paced in front of the bed like a lion trapped in a cage.
“You’re sorry,” he spat. “Felix was under my protection. Do you realize what kind of shit we’re in now?”
I tightened my grip on the sheet until my knuckles paled.
“I didn’t know anything was going to happen,” I said, my voice barely steady.
“He just said he wanted me to meet a few people—some of them might be at the wedding. That was all.” I swallowed, forcing my gaze down.
“Then he tried to take me to a room at the hotel. He said he needed to inspect the cargo before marrying me.” My eyes dropped to the crumpled sheets in my lap, shame curling my shoulders inward.
“He what?” My father’s eyes widened, disbelief turning quickly to rage.
“Yes,” I whispered, nodding too quickly. My fingers twisted the fabric tighter. “I begged him to wait for the wedding. I told him you would never allow it.”
“He got angry,” I continued, my voice trembling just enough. “But he let me go. He drove me home around two. Said he’d go back and grab some other girl to use since he’d already paid for the room.”
He stared at me like he wanted to believe me. Or maybe like he didn’t know what to believe anymore.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he said suddenly, his voice low and sharp. “Are you cursed or something? Every man I put near you ends up dead. Fiancés dropping like flies.” Then, with a sound of disgust, he turned on his heel and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
I chewed at the skin on my thumb, heart heavy with the truth. Maksym was right. Of course he was. There was no way Felix’s death would be brushed off. This was the start. The opening shot.
I kicked off the covers and climbed out of bed, my heart still pounding loud enough to hear. I slipped into a gray knit loungewear set—soft and oversized, and swept my hair into a loose tie without much thought. My fingers were still unsteady.
I never had a reason to go near my father’s office, and I preferred to stay away.
But this morning, something pulled me toward it.
I needed to know what they were planning.
What came next. And underneath all of it, a selfish, desperate part of me hoped Maksym might be there.
Just so I could breathe easier knowing he was okay.
I padded down the stairs slowly, careful not to make noise. As I reached the corridor leading to my father’s study, I heard voices coming through the speakerphone—loud, harsh, and angry.
“You lost control of your territory!” someone barked.
It didn’t take much to figure out who it was. Felix’s father. I recognized the tone—the kind of entitlement only old, powerful men carried like second skins.
“I gave him protection,” my father snapped back. “Whatever happened out there, I’ll find out. Nobody behaves like that in my city.” He exhaled sharply. “I don’t know who he managed to piss off enough to end up like this, but I will.”
“Your protection means nothing if he ends up butchered in the goddamn woods!”
His voice cracked with rage. “They butchered my son. My boy. Do you understand what that means?” he thundered. “He was my heir. My blood. They didn’t just kill him—they desecrated him.”
A beat of silence, then more venom. “Don’t think for a second I’ll let that slide.”
“Do not threaten me in my own country,” my father growled. “I’m looking into it. My men will find who did this.”
I leaned back against the wall, barely breathing. My throat was dry.
I squeezed my eyes shut. The thought of Maksym being dragged into this, hunted, punished—I couldn’t bear it. My chest ached just thinking about it.
I glanced around, a strange stillness hanging in the air—and then it hit me. The house felt emptier. Off. Felix’s guards were gone. Like cowards they disappeared the moment his corpse showed up on the news.
Tails tucked and heads down. Typical.
Half an hour later, I heard the heavy thud of boots echoing off the marble floors. My father’s voice boomed through the house, summoning everyone—every lieutenant, every soldier, every man who owed him loyalty—into the central hall beneath the grand staircase.
Maksym entered in head-to-toe black, the same leather jacket he draped over me yesterday stretched effortlessly across his shoulders.
He moved like he owned the room, unaffected by the tension coiling around my father.
His gaze swept the space, pausing when it found me.
We held each other’s stare for a long beat—then he turned away, calm as ever, to join the others.
They gathered in lines, backs straight, faces hard, the air thick with tension. I hovered at the edge of the second-floor landing, watching through the iron balustrade.