Page 23 of Captured By the Russian Wolf

I sat up, pulling the sheets tighter around myself, as if that would somehow shield me from the whirlwind of emotions inside me. I didn't know where I stood anymore. What had started as a mission for revenge was spiraling into something I no longer had control over. I had come here with a plan, a clear goal: to make the person responsible for Alexei's death pay. But now... now I wasn't sure if I could follow through.

Because the person responsible was the man I was falling for.

My heart twisted painfully at the thought, guilt gnawing at the edges of my mind. How could I be here, in his bed, after everything? After Alexei? I was supposed to avenge his death, not lose myself to the man who killed him. But the more time I spent with Nikita, the more I found myself drawn to him. And now I had seen his vulnerability, his humanity.

I couldn't stop thinking about his confession—about the massacre, the betrayal that had hardened him into the ruthless man he was today. He had let me in, shown me a part of himself that he kept hidden from the world. And it was that vulnerability, that moment of weakness, that had made me falter.

I pressed my hands to my face, trying to block out the guilt, the confusion, the weight of what I was feeling. But it was useless. The truth was that I was no longer just playing the role of Nikita's wife. Somewhere along the way, my feelings had become real.

And that terrified me.

I stood from the bed, pulling on a robe as I walked to the window. Outside, the city buzzed with life, completely unaware of the war raging inside me. I had thought that time would help me regain focus, that I could pull myself out of this spiral and remind myself why I was really here. But the more time passed, the harder it became to separate the mission from my emotions.

I needed to distance myself from him. I needed to pull away before I lost sight of my goal entirely.

Over the next few days, I did everything I could to avoid Nikita. I spent more time alone, wandering the mansion, avoiding the rooms where I knew he would be. I needed space, time to think, to process everything. But even in the quiet moments, even when I was far from him, I couldn't stop thinking about him—about his touch, his voice, the way he had taken me.

The way I had wanted him to.

I didn't know what happened with Petrov, but Nikita didn't seem worried about him any longer. Whatever message he had wanted to send apparently went through. But that didn't mean I was let loose on the city again, wild and free. An unspoken expectation quietly settled over us—I wouldn't go anywhere without him. He acted as my protection, his presence a physical threat to anyone who laid eyes on me.

That's what the dinner was about with his business associates. His eyes had been on me for most of the evening, but I suspected he was also taking me on a victory lap. No man was going to threaten what was his.

No other man would be allowed to lay a finger on me, not when he was by my side at all times out in public.

That meant there was no way I could get the poison into the mansion, not without enlisting the help of some outsider, but who could fill that role? Everyone around Nikita—around us—was properly vetted. I didn't have any friends, and Nikita knew that. I had purged them when I started this mission at my father's suggestion. I didn't need distractions, he had said.

This little issue of not being able to carry out my mission was just fine by me. I had taken it in stride, only briefly expressing agitation, and found myself resolving to come up with a different solution at some later date.

The way my mind had been pacified so quickly made me sick to my stomach.

It wasn't long before Nikita noticed the distance I was putting between us. It was impossible to avoid him completely—after all, we lived under the same roof, and our lives were now intertwined in ways that couldn't easily be undone. But I tried. I made excuses, kept our conversations brief, and avoided being alone with him whenever possible.

But I knew I couldn't keep it up forever.

And I was right.

One evening, after days of avoiding him, he cornered me in the study. I had been staring out the window, lost in thought, when I heard the door click shut behind me. I turned, my heart skipping a beat when I saw him standing there, his expression hard, his eyes narrowed.

"Funny seeing you here," he stated flatly, clearly not surprised in the least.

"Funny? I'm always here," I started, a little confused. I wasn't catching what he was getting at, and that was making me nervous. It was also hard to hold his hard gaze.

"Usually. Lately? Not so much. In fact." Nikita took a slow step toward me, and I resisted the urge to take a step back. "It's been hard to catch you anywhere."

"I'm staying out of your way," I murmured defensively, letting my eyes drop to the floor. I hated how he made me feel like a child getting scolded, but I couldn't summon the resolve I had grown so used to.

"Staying out of my way," he repeated, as if thinking over the words, but the dark glint in his eyes told me he didn't believe me for a second.

There wasn't anything to think about.

"You're running away from me," he stated.

At that, my eyes shot up to meet his, my mind racing to latch onto another lie—one I didn't have ready. My mind was blank because he was telling the truth. I swallowed hard and crossed my arms over my chest. Just because I was caught didn't mean I needed to say anything.

"You're running because you're afraid."

I opened my mouth to respond, but the words caught in my throat. He was right. I was afraid. Afraid of my growing feelings for him, afraid of what they meant for my mission, afraid of the conflict tearing me apart inside.

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