Chapter 49
The Prey
Why aren’t you home?” she pressed.
“My flight got delayed,” I lied. “I’ve been caught up with a few things.”
“I figured.” She sounded relieved. “Your professor called. He said you won some kind of prize. I’m so proud of you, sweetheart. I just wish you’d come home for a week.”
My breath caught.
“A prize?”
“Yes. We even received a hundred thousand in our account.” She laughed softly. “You saved me from worrying about—”
The rest dissolved into meaningless noise.
A prize.
A hundred thousand.
Judas.
He’d sent the money and lied convincingly enough that even my mother believed it. Why? To keep her from asking questions? To make sure she never came looking for me? Or was this just another reminder that, even from miles away, he could reach into every corner of my life?
“Are you still there, Sera?”
My mother’s voice pulled me back.
“I... yeah, Mama.” My throat tightened. “I’m here.”
“Sera, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”
“I’m fine.” The lie scraped against my throat. “Just tired.”
I should tell her. She deserved the truth.
But what truth? That I’d become collateral in a war I didn’t understand? That every lie I told was to keep her alive?
Tears stung my eyes. I blinked them away, biting the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood.
“I love you, Mama,” I whispered.
“I love you too. Come home soon, okay?”
“I will.”
Another lie.
We talked for another half an hour about how thriving her business was nowadays, and Mikhail was getting enrolled in a scholarship programmed in Manchester University. My heart ached telling her more lies: that I was doing well, that the people were kind here, and that I even had a boyfriend.
I lied and lied until tears gathered in my eyes, and I had to lie again to cut the call.
I stared at the dark screen, unable to move. The phone slipped from my numb fingers, hitting the floor with a dull thud.
All I could see was the darkness ahead, the choices I’d have to make, and the price I’d have to pay. Judas’s pale eyes loomed over me, and I knew—whatever came next, it would demand more of me than I had to give.
I paced the apartment like a caged animal.
The air felt too heavy. I circled the coffee table again, fingertips brushing its edge as though it could steady me. It couldn’t.
Not when he wasn’t here. My injured foot throbbed, but sitting still was impossible.
I glanced at the clock. Another minute. Where is he?
I dragged a hand through my hair, trying to quiet the unease clawing beneath my skin.
Every muscle in my body locked when I heard footsteps.
The doorknob turned, and the door opened.
There he was.
The devil of my cage stepped into the suite with his presence like a sharp contrast to the chaos in my mind.
He looked as dashing, as composed as he had that morning—immaculate as ever.
Those pale blue eyes found mine instantly, and a hint of amusement curled at the corner of his lips, as if he could sense the storm raging inside me.
His aura was as dangerous as ever, something dark and alluring that pulled at me, even when I wanted nothing more than to push him away.
I hated him with my guts.
My hands clenched into fists at my sides, nails dug into my palms as I fought to keep my composure.
But he saw it. He always did. The way his gaze flickered over me, reading every inch of my body, only fed the tension in my head.
It was like he thrived on it, and he did: the danger, the control, the way he could make me unravel with just a look.
“Waiting for me, little bird?” His voice was smooth, deceptively calm, and every word laced with something darker, something that set my nerves on edge.
I swallowed hard, trying to find my voice, but it was trapped in the tightness of my chest, choked by the storm he’d created inside me. My nerves crackled.
My throat burned; words clawed their way up, but I couldn’t speak. Not when he was looking at me like that—like he knew exactly what I was thinking, exactly what I was feeling.
He took a step closer, closing the distance, and the room seemed to shrink further, but for how long would this go on? He got what he wanted; now it was his time to let me go, wasn’t it?
I stood rooted to the spot, caught between the urge to flee and the inexplicable pull that kept me tethered to him, even as fear and anger warred within me.
“Cat got your tongue?” he teased, the amusement in his eyes deepening as he reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from my face.
The touch was electric, sending a jolt through me, but I didn’t flinch. I couldn’t give him that satisfaction. Not again.
I squared my shoulders, forcing myself to meet his gaze, to hold steady in the face of the storm he brought with him. “You’re late,” I managed to say, my voice steadier than I felt.
He smiled, that infuriatingly calm, knowing smile, and for a moment, the world tilted. “Am I?” He tilted his head, studying me as if I were a puzzle he enjoyed piecing together.
I could barely breathe. My fists tightened at my sides, every nerve in my body screaming at me to do something, to say something that would break this unbearable tension.
My breath caught in my throat as I noticed it—his once pristine white blazer and pants, now soaked in crimson.
The contrast was brutal, a violent slash against the immaculate white, but not a single hair on his head was out of place.
The sight twisted something deep inside me, a cold knot of fear and realization settling in my gut.
He was dangerous—more than I’d ever let myself believe.
Instinctively, I stepped back. The strand of hair he’d been toying with slipped from his fingers, but his hand remained suspended in the air, frozen in place.
I saw the flicker in his eyes. The sharp edge of displeasure that sliced through his carefully controlled facade. He didn’t like that—me pulling away.
Before he could grab me, before he could twist his fingers in my hair and slam my head against the wall like I knew he wanted to, I forced the words past the lump in my throat. “Why did you send the money to my family?”
His eyes narrowed, the amusement flickering out, replaced by something colder, sharper. Slowly, he lowered his hand, slipping it back into his pocket. His head tilted, the move casual, as if he hadn’t just crossed some invisible line between us.
“I told you I’d pay you for sleeping with me,” he said flatly. “You didn’t name your price. I was inside you all night. I guess 100k is enough. Or do you want more?” His lips curled into a mocking smile. “I can transfer another 100—”
“Stop.” The word burst out of me, sharp, cutting through his taunt. My body was trembling with both anger and something darker, something that made my skin crawl.
But I didn’t back down. Not this time. “I’m not some whore you can throw money at and walk away.”
He arched a brow and his expression remain unchanged, like he were entertained by my outburst. “Aren’t you?” he drawled. “You sold yourself the moment you spread your legs for me.”
My hand twitched at my side, every instinct screaming at me to slap the smug look off his face. But I held back, my nails digging into my palms to keep control. “I didn’t sell myself, you forced me,” I spat, my voice shaking with fury. “And you don’t own me. You can’t buy me.”
He laughed, low and dark, the sound sending a shiver down my spine. “Can’t I?” His gaze raked over me, assessing, calculating, as if he were considering just how much I was worth. “Everyone has a price, Ptichka. Yours just happens to be some dollars.”
“You’re disgusting,” I hissed. “This isn’t about the money, and you know it.”
His smile didn’t falter, but his eyes darkened, the cold amusement shifting into something more dangerous, more possessive.
He took a step closer, closing the distance I’d tried so desperately to put between us.
“What is it about then?” he murmured, his voice dropping to a low, menacing whisper.
“Tell me, little bird. What do you want from me?”
I backed up until my spine hit the wall, trapped between the hard surface and the man in front of me.
My breath quickened, heart pounding in my chest, but I refused to look away.
“I want you to leave my family out of this,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt.
“They don’t deserve to be dragged into your games. ”
His eyes flared with something akin to surprise, but it was gone as quickly as it came. He leaned in, his breath warm against my ear, and I forced myself to stay still, to not flinch away. “You think this is a game?” he whispered, his voice laced with menace. “I don’t play games, Fenochka. I win.”
“Then leave them alone,” I shot back, the words sharper, stronger. “This is between you and me. They didn’t ask for any of this.”
His lips brushed the shell of my ear, sending a shudder through me that I couldn’t suppress. “Oh, but they did. The moment they accepted that money, they became part of this… arrangement.”
I clenched my fists, struggling to keep the rage from boiling over. “They didn’t know,” I argued, my voice rising. “You lied to me, manipulated me—”
“Manipulate?” he interrupted, pulling back just enough to meet my eyes, his expression hardening. “Don’t pretend you’re innocent, little bird. You knew what you were doing when you got into my bed.”
The accusation stung, a cold slap of reality that made my chest tighten. I forced myself to breathe, to think, even as my mind screamed at me to lash out, to hit back at the man who had dragged me into his twisted world. “I didn’t have a choice,” I said, each word a struggle. “You forced me.”
He smirked, a cruel twist of his lips. “And you think that changes anything? You were mine the moment you said yes.”
The words hung between us, heavy and suffocating. My throat burned, my eyes stinging with unshed tears, but I refused to let them fall. I couldn’t let him see how deeply he’d cut, how much his words wounded me. “I’ll never be yours,” I whispered, the words more a plea than a declaration.
His expression softened, but it wasn’t kindness—it was the calm before the storm. He reached out, his hand brushing my cheek in a gesture that felt more like a threat than a comfort. “Oh, little bird,” he murmured, his voice deceptively gentle. “You already are.”