Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Lucia
The East Coast sky was gray and heavy when we landed a week after our honeymoon started, the clouds hanging low like they were pressing everything down.
By the time the car pulled through the gates of Alexei’s estate, any illusion of normal life disappeared.
This wasn’t a home in any sense I understood.
It was a fortress built for war with tall stone walls wrapping the entire property, cameras following every movement as the gates opened, and armed guards standing posted at every entrance with rifles resting easily against their chests.
More men patrolled the grounds in pairs, moving with purpose, their eyes constantly scanning, their expressions blank in a way that made it clear nothing here was relaxed or left to chance.
This wasn't an unusual sight for me to witness, not with how I’d grown up, but this was extreme. I, of course, kept that to myself. If Alexei had this much security, then it was obviously needed.
The car rolled slowly up the long drive, and when it came to a stop, Alexei stepped out first before opening my door himself.
He held on to my hand as we walked through the entryway, and when the front door closed, he pulled me in for a kiss without warning.
It was hard and deep, his fingers digging into my waist.
He pulled away, and I breathed out shakily. “Wow, what was that for?”
He smoothed his finger along my bottom lip, his focus trained on the act. “I can’t help myself. I can’t think straight when you’re around.”
I couldn’t respond, my voice lodged in my throat as I got warm and tingly, and felt like I was falling into an endless pit when I was around him.
“I hate to leave, but I have business to attend to. I’ll be back tonight,” he said against my mouth, his voice gravel rough, his thumb brushing along my jaw as his gaze moved over my face with a focus that felt too intense to ignore.
“You’re free to explore, but don't leave the grounds. If you need something, let the staff know. You have your cell. I’ve programmed my number into it.
You call if you need anything.” With more force, he said, “Anything, Lucia.”
“Okay,” was all I could say.
He watched me for another second before giving me one more long, lingering kiss. Then he stepped back and was gone, leaving behind a silence that felt heavier than it should have.
I stood there for a moment, alone in the middle of the foyer, letting reality settle in now that he wasn’t there to pull my attention away from it. This was my home now, even if it didn’t feel like it yet, and the only way to keep from thinking too much about that was to move.
The house was enormous, larger than my own childhood home. It was beautiful in a formal, designed way with vaulted ceilings and marble floors that reflected everything in clean, sharp lines. Expensive artwork lined the walls, the kind that belonged in private collections.
Even the guards seemed like part of the structure, positioned throughout the house with quiet precision.
One stood at the end of the hallway, another near the stairs, and more stationed at doorways and entrances.
And while they nodded respectfully when I passed, they didn’t speak or smile.
Their gazes followed me instead, tracking every step I took in a way that should have made me uncomfortable but instead made me feel safe.
I knew in this world there were enemies who’d hurt me to get to my father—or, now, my husband.
I wrapped my arms around myself as I moved deeper into the house, the silence pressed in around me, and the still quiet hit harder than I expected.
The feeling came fast and sharp, and before I could stop myself, I pulled out my phone and called Angelica.
She answered on the second ring, her voice already tight with worry and relief when she said my name, and hearing it almost undid me. I moved toward one of the tall windows as we spoke, staring out at the grounds where guards moved like shadows in the distance.
I told her about the honeymoon and how things were… good was all I said, but I tried to sound upbeat for her sake.
Alexei was kind, gentle even, and he spoiled me. But I was still confused about my new life and role, and if this was just a farce he was putting on. Was he waiting for my walls to be fully down before his true colors showed?
A little voice in my head said that Alexei has already shown himself to me.
She asked if Alexei was kind. I found myself smiling when I answered that he was.
I tried to explain what it felt like to be here.
I told her the estate was huge, that there were guards everywhere, even more than what father had.
“That’s the life we were born into,” she said gently. “Just be careful. Alexei…I’ve heard rumors. He’s not like other men.”
“I know,” I answered because I did. I’d heard about The Butcher, the way he was bloody with his kills, a weapon his father used. But I also felt it every time he touched me and especially every time he looked at me like I was something he had already claimed.
Saying goodbye to my sister was harder than I expected, and when the call ended, the silence felt worse than before. I stood there for a moment, letting the ache settle in my chest before forcing myself to move again, because standing still only made everything feel heavier.
The rest of the house opened up as I explored, each room revealing little bits about Alexei I knew I would have never learned otherwise.
The main living area was large and expensive but felt untouched, as if they existed more for appearance than comfort.
Heavy leather furniture sat arranged perfectly, and a fireplace large enough to stand in was the main focal point of the room.
I entered the dining room, which stretched out with a table long enough to seat twenty, polished to a shine that reflected the light above it. I could easily picture men sitting there, deals being made and threats spoken calmly over dinner like they were just part of the conversation.
That was his—our—world, one where power and violence lived side by side without needing to be hidden.
I left the kitchen and made my way into the library.
The shelves were lined with books that had clearly been read instead of just collected, and as I ran my fingers along the spines, something else caught my attention.
A set of photo albums tucked into one corner, worn enough that they had been handled frequently.
I hesitated before pulling one down and sat on the edge of the couch.
I opened it slowly, not sure what I expected to find, but the first few pages nearly broke something inside me.
A little boy looked back at me, dark hair messy, a shy smile on his face that didn’t belong to the man I knew.
Alexei at six or seven looked almost soft, his small shoulders relaxed, his expression open in a way that felt impossible to connect to the man I had married.
There were photos of him with his mother, her arm wrapped around him, both of them smiling in a way that felt real, and for a moment, it was hard to look at anything else. But the change came quickly with each turn of the page, with each passing year, and it didn’t slow down.
His smiles faded first, replaced by something more serious, more guarded, and by the time he reached ten, there was nothing soft left in his expression. His mother was no longer in the pictures as if she just disappeared.
By twelve, the scars started to show on Alexei.
A cut along his cheekbone, another splitting his lip, and bruises dotting his arms and neck that told their own story without needing anyone to tell me how he got them.
His eyes changed the most, losing whatever warmth had been there and turning cold in a way that felt permanent.
I turned the pages more slowly after that, watching the boy disappear and the man take his place, broad-shouldered, tattooed, scarred, and detached in a way that felt carved into him.
The Butcher didn’t appear overnight. He was built piece by piece, year after year, and seeing it laid out like this made it impossible to ignore what it must have taken to get him there.
I reached out without thinking, my fingers brushing over a photograph where a jagged scar cut across his collarbone, and something heavy settled in my chest as I tried to understand it.
I knew our world wasn’t kind to sons raised to lead, but this was more than that.
This was something else entirely, something deeper and darker than I had allowed myself to consider.
I closed the album slowly and placed it back exactly where I found it, but the images flashed through my mind as I made my way out of the library. The house felt different now, less like something unknown and more like something I was starting to understand, even if I wasn’t sure I wanted to.
The kitchen gave me something else to focus on, something normal in a way the rest of the house wasn’t.
I stood there for a moment, staring at the clean counters and untouched appliances, trying to figure out what I was supposed to do with myself in a place this big. Everything here belonged to him, every room, every detail, and even though it was my home now, too, it didn’t feel like mine yet.
I thought about those pictures of that little boy and the smile he wore that had long since vanished. I realized I wanted to prepare dinner for him, to offer something that felt normal in a world that was everything but.
The staff had been moving through the house earlier, quiet and efficient, but the moment I stepped into a room, they seemed to disappear without being told.
Doors closed softly behind them, footsteps faded, and by the time I turned around, I was alone again.
It wasn’t avoidance, not exactly. It felt intentional, like they were giving me space, like they understood I wasn’t just a guest here but something else entirely.