Chapter Three

Kolya

It’s so dark in here without lights as the walls press in. She’s so close I can barely catch my breath.

I take her back to the main living room lit with candlelight.

She stands there, flushed, chest rising and falling, her dress rumpled, her lips red and swollen. I take in the sight, burn it into my mind. For a moment, she’s not the untouchable figure I’ve kept in the distance, not the woman of steel and fire I told myself I didn’t need. She’s just Galya—the only person who’s ever come close to breaking my control.

But I can’t afford this weakness. I pull myself back, still watching her as she adjusts her dress. My heart hasn’t pounded this hard in years.

As she catches my eye, I see her swallow hard, something shifting in her gaze, and I feel the weight of my own regrets press down on me. It’s unspoken, but it’s there, hanging in the air like smoke. I let the words slip out before I can stop myself, barely a whisper, my voice roughened by things I’ve kept buried.

“Things could have been different,”

I say. And damn it, I mean it. If I hadn’t kept her at arm’s length back then. If I hadn’t thought that the safest way to protect her was to push her away. But I couldn’t let myself imagine something like that—not for her, not for me.

Her lips part slightly, but she doesn’t say a word, just stares at me, her expression torn. I step closer, close enough to catch her scent and feel the warmth radiating off her skin.

“We chose our sides, Kolya,”

she whispers, her voice unsteady. “We belong to different worlds now.”

Different worlds. The words settle into me like stones, but I shake them off. I reach out, touch her cheek, feel her shiver as my fingers trace along her skin, a reminder that I’ll never really let her go.

“That doesn’t change anything, Galya,”

I murmur, my voice hardening. “You’re still mine.”

She blinks, a shiver running through her as her eyes soften, just for a second, before the moment snaps back into cold reality. I hear voices rising outside in the main hall, tense and clipped, and I pull away from her, straightening, every sense on alert. I watch her smooth her dress and fix her hair, her cheeks flushed as we both prepare to return to the party, as if nothing had happened.

Together, we step back into the crowded hall. The party is louder now, a tension in the air that wasn’t there before. It doesn’t take me long to see the source: Arkady—Galya’s brother. He’s standing near Mikhail, his gaze shifting from the crowd to land directly on us. The moment his eyes settle on her disheveled appearance, on her flushed cheeks, I see the realization snap into place, and his face hardens with fury.

Mikhail, however, doesn’t look surprised but determined.

“You,”

Arkady snarls, shoving past the crowd toward me, his fists clenched, his gaze murderous. He closes in, and the chatter around us dies as people sense the tension brewing.

“Arkady,”

Mikhail says pleasantly. “I wouldn’t.”

Why does Mikhail look so placid? As if this is happening the exact way he intended…

Without hesitation, Arkady lunges. His arm flies forward, his fist heading straight for my face, but I sidestep, catching his wrist and twisting it. He grunts in pain, but I don’t release him. I grab him by the collar and slam him against the wall, pinning him effortlessly.

“Touch me again,”

I growl, my voice low and deadly, “and I will put you in the ground.”

“Both of you,”

Mikhail says sternly. “Enough.”

Arkady’s chest rises and falls in quick, angry breaths, and he jerks against my hold, but I tighten my grip, pressing him further into the wall. The crowd around us is silent, eyes wide as they watch the standoff, the fragile peace between our families shattering with every passing second when Ekaterina steps in. “Hot drinks, anyone?”

She holds a silver tray with gilded edges, smoking hot mugs on display.

The crowd turns away from us. They know better.

Arkady looks past me, his eyes landing on Galya with an expression that’s equal parts betrayal and anger. “What have you done?”

he spits, his words directed at her now. “Have you forgotten who your family is?”

I see her flinch, but she meets his gaze with defiance, refusing to look away. “I know exactly who my family is,”

she says, her voice steady, cold. “And I know who I am.”

His glare snaps back to me, his rage boiling over. “You think you can touch my sister?”

he hisses. “You think you can—”

“Fucking threaten her again,”

I interrupt, my voice calm, barely above a whisper. Mikhail grips my shoulder. “And if you have a problem with it, I’m more than happy to settle it.” I lean closer, letting him see just how easily I could crush him.

“We called a ceasefire,”

Mikhail says, his eyes…twinkling? What the hell? “You know the consequences of breaking our pact, Arkady.”

The fury in Arkady’s eyes is wild, but I hold him there, making it clear that any move he makes against me will only end in pain.

“Are you going to behave? Or should we empty this room?”

“Fine,”

he says with a growl. “I’ll let you go.” Finally, I release him, shoving him back with a cold, final glare.

Arkady stumbles, catching himself, his face red with anger and humiliation. He casts one last look at Galya before storming away.

I don’t take my eyes off Arkady as he disappears into the crowd, feeling the weight of every eye on me. But I’m already thinking about Galya, about the danger that’s only increased for her now.

As the party resumes around us, I feel the faintest tremor of regret. This was always going to end in blood, and I knew it. But I’d be damned if I’d let anyone else have her—even if it meant I’d just declared war.

As the evening stretches on, the tension has quieted but hasn’t entirely dissolved. Ekaterina orchestrates a delicate peace, ensuring drinks stay topped off and laughter fills the room. Mikhail, after more drinks than I’ve seen him have in some time, rouses the whole crowd to sing Christmas carols.

But I can feel the hostility humming under Arkady’s skin as he watches me from across the room. He’s waiting, pacing in his mind. The second he gets the chance, he’s coming for me.

I dance with my Galya. I hold her close as we move to the music. She feels soft, warm, and pliant against me.

“I’ve dreamt of this, Kolya,”

she whispers. “We can’t let my brother stop us.”

“We won’t,”

I say in a vehement whisper. I lost her once. I won’t lose her again.

But how will I convince her brother not to start a battle that will destroy us all?

As guests begin to leave, Arkady strides toward the entrance, his face a mask of simmering anger. I hold Galya’s hand. “This will work out,”

I promise her. “Trust me.”

Just as he reaches his car, I see him fumble, then curse loudly, kicking the tire as if that could revive it. He comes back in the house covered with snow.

“Most of the city still has no electricity,”

Ekaterina says gently. The Romanov generator came on a short while ago, the home warm and well lit. “We have guest rooms. These roads really aren’t suitable for travel, Arkady. Stay the night and my staff will take good care of you.”

Frowning, he agrees, though his face is tight with reluctant fury.

It’s late, and Galya and I are standing near the fire as Arkady walks toward her. “The Romanovs have suggested we—”

The crack of gunfire splits through the night. My instincts kick in, and I grab Galya, pulling her to the ground and covering her with my body. Masked men burst through the front doors, their guns aimed straight at us. Chaos descends in an instant. The blasts of gunfire fill the air, smoke swirling under the chandeliers, and shouts erupt as people scramble for cover.

With Galya vulnerable beneath me, I’m instantly thrown back to years ago when I’d first felt the burn of wanting her—a burn that now feels like an inferno. But I can’t let myself get lost in that now. I need to get her out of here. I pull her close, her fingers clinging to my coat, as I scan the room for an exit, my mind racing through possibilities, escape routes.

"Stay with me, Galya. Do not leave my side," I growl, grabbing her hand. She nods, her gaze fierce, unwavering.

Bullets ricochet around us, and I step forward, taking control of the situation. My hand finds Mikhail’s shoulder as he ducks to reload, a plan forming between us in seconds. I give him a silent nod, and together, we weave through the chaos, flanking the intruders, our movements precise and lethal. Mikhail’s brothers pour into the room, guns raised, pushing back the attackers with ruthless efficiency.

But the instant I see one of the masked men raise his gun toward Galya, something snaps. Before I can think, I’m moving, shoving her to the ground and shielding her with my own body as bullets crack through the walls. She gasps, her hands clutching my shirt, her eyes wide, and I see the fear and anger there, the raw edge that matches my own.

We press into the narrow hallway, shielded by thick stone walls. My pulse races with adrenaline, with the knowledge that if we survive this, I’ll never let her go. I’ve seen the fury in Arkady’s eyes, his determination to pull her back into his world and control her, and I know now that he’s too late.

My choice has been made.

The gunfire dies down as my men seize control, driving out the last of the masked intruders. The smoke lingers in the air, bodies slumped around us.

“We’re clear,”

Mikhail says. I help Galya to her feet, brushing the dust and debris from her dress. As we step from the alcove, Arkady stares at his, paling.

Mikhail approaches, nodding at me, then turning to Arkady. “Kolya saved her life,”

he says, his tone both firm and resolute. “And you know as well as I do, Arkady, what that means in our world.”

Arkady grinds his teeth, his fists clenched, but he gives a tight nod, acknowledging the undeniable truth. He nods reluctantly.

“You saved her,”

he says, bowing his head.

Mikhail catches his shoulder, his tone diplomatic but final. “This could end in peace,”

he offers. “A permanent ceasefire, if you allow it.”

A long, tense silence stretches between them before Arkady reluctantly agrees. He reached for his sister, and they have a low, private discussion before he kisses her cheek.

Guests retire to their rooms, but adrenaline still courses through me. I’m wide awake. The house slips into quiet, the lingering scent of extinguished candles in the air mingled with cinnamon and pine.

I need to see her. I have to touch her. I want to feel the vibrancy of her pulse beneath my fingers, assuring me she’s mine, that she’s here and not the slip of a dream that will pass when I wake.

I find Galya’s door slightly ajar. She’s waiting and Khristos what a sight she is, dressed in a pale ivory nightie that barely covers her tits and ass. She’s brushing her hair as she meets my gaze.

I step inside, closing the door behind me, my gaze never leaving hers.