Page 53 of Dangerous Beginnings

I curse myself for sounding weak, for letting anything slipthrough the cracks of my control. Control is what I am. It’s what keeps me safe. But around her... nothing works the way it should.

“I never do this,” I continue, my voice low, almost as if the admission itself is a betrayal.

She looks at me with those pained eyes. “I believe I resonate with you—” I pause before finishing my sentence carefully, “—and your pain.”

She doesn’t realize it, but she holds the kind of power over me that I can’t stand—because I can’t understand it. And she will never know, I will never tell her that.

She is at loss for words, trying to scramble them up from the bottom of the ocean, but nothing follows. I’m sure my interest in her frightens her.

“I have some business to attend to before I leave,” I say, breaking the silence. I retrieve my suit jacket, the fabric rustling as I slip it on. The room feels colder, the air thick with the tension of impending farewells. My gaze softens as I reach out to stroke her hair gently, a gesture laden with a complex mix of intimacy and detachment. “If you choose not to come, understand that our paths will diverge permanently,” I murmur, my tone firm but tinged with a hint of regret.

“Our worlds will be separated, and I trust that you’ll carry our secrets to the grave.” She meets my eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the weight of what we’ve shared. “Think carefully.” I stare at her bruised face, “You ran from me before, but after this, you will never be able to run from me again,” I add. I take one last, lingering look at her, committing her to memory as she is now, knowing that if she comes with me, she will never be the same again. With a final stroke of her hair, I turn away, the door creaking open as I step into the dim corridor. The weight of my responsibilities pulls me back to the world that I inhabit—a world of shadows and blood, of power and control.

As I walk away, the echo of her silence follows me, a haunting reminder of the choice that now lies in her hands. Whether she follows me or stays behind, the consequences will be dire, but either way, I know one thing for certain—I will never truly be free of her, and she will never truly escape me.

Isabella

I swallow hard, his words echoing in my mind like a death sentence. The weight of his offer, the gravity of what he’s suggesting—it’s too much. I feel like I’m teetering on the edge of a cliff, the abyss of his world yawning wide beneath me.

I would be a fool to even consider going with him, to let myself be dragged into the heart of his darkness, all the way to fucking Moscow. A fool to willingly step into his web, to give myself over to him so completely.

My heart pounds against my ribcage, each beat a reminder of the danger I’m flirting with. Confusion swirls in my tear-stained eyes, mixing with fear, anger, and something else—something I can’t quite name. His gaze is piercing, cutting through all the chaos inside me. It’s as if he’s offering me something more than just protection, more than just an escape. There’s an intensity in his eyes, a depth that’s almost frightening in its sincerity. But beneath that, I see the darkness—the same darkness that’s always been there, lurking just beneath the surface.

I replay the events of the past few minutes, the tension, the way his words wrapped around me like chains. Moscow is a name that feels distant, yet terrifyingly real. It’s not just a place—it’s the very heart of his empire, a labyrinth of power and violence that I have no business being anywhere near. I try to imagine what it would be like there, what he would be like in that place, surrounded by his people, his enemies. Would he still be the man I’ve come to know, or would he become something even more monstrous?

And why does he care for me? Is it a mere manipulation tactic or is there a raw interest?

The rational part of me knows I should run, that I should never have anything to do with him again. He’s not just any man—he’s one of the world’s most wanted criminals, a man whose very name sends shivers down the spine of anyone who knows who he is. The thought of being associated with him, of being pulled into his world, makes my skin crawl. And yet, his offer lingers in the air between us like a poisonous temptation, like an unspoken promise of something I can’t quite resist. I mean there isn’t another place I would be able to go to, I’m out of options. I don’t feel safe here either, my stepfather walks around in the same city where I live. I don’t think I can encounter him again—ever.

My thoughts spiral, racing through the countless dangers that await me if I choose to go with him. A life entangled with the Russian mafia, a world I’ve only ever glimpsed in nightmares. The consequences are staggering, the risks insurmountable. Yet, no matter how much I try to push the thought away, I can’t shake the image of him from my mind. He moves through the shadows with a grace that’s both terrifying and mesmerizing, and I know that once he sets his sights on something—or someone—he won’t stop until he gets it.

I haven’t been able to get him out of my mind for months. Even when I knew I should forget him, even when I knew I should be terrified, he’s haunted me. I know the authorities are closing in on him, and yet there’s a part of me that doubts they’ll ever catch him. He’s too clever, too ruthless. And instead of feeling relief at the thought of him being brought to justice, I feel something else—something darker, something that makes me question my own sanity.

Honestly, I think I’m losing my mind. The fact that I’m even considering his offer, that I’m here thinking about what it would mean to go with him, is enough to make me wonder if I’malready insane. It’s like I’m on the verge of signing away my soul, and I can’t even bring myself to stop. What the hell am I going to do?

The room feels like it’s closing in on me, the air thick with tension and uncertainty. My hands tremble as I clench them into fists, trying to hold onto some semblance of control, but it’s slipping through my fingers like sand. The decision I must make feels impossible, like a choice between life and death, between freedom and damnation.

But as much as I try to tell myself that I should stay, that I should let him walk out that door and never see him again, there’s a part of me—a dark, twisted part—that can’t bear the thought of having to forget him. And that part of me, that sick, desperate part, is screaming at me to leap, to follow him into the unknown, no matter how dangerous it might be.

Because deep down, I know that if I don’t, I’ll spend the rest of my life wondering what might have happened. Wondering if I made the right choice, or if I let fear rule me. And I’m not sure I can live with that kind of regret.

I feel the tears welling up in my eyes again, but I blink them back, refusing to let them fall. I can’t afford to be weak right now. Not when the most dangerous man I’ve ever known is offering me a chance—however twisted it might be—to step into his world. And maybe, just maybe, to find out what it’s like to truly belong to someone.

Even if that someone is a monster.

Aslanov

As I approach Tenth Street, the atmosphere changes; the air becomes thicker, the silence more profound. The storefronts conceal the clandestine dealings that shape the underbelly of the city. My presence here is expected, my authority unquestioned. The men who linger in the shadows nod in acknowledgment as Ipass, a silent understanding passing between us.

She is still on my mind, just like she has been for months now. I haven’t forgotten about it, the person who did this to her will pay with their life. Soon, but first this.

Entering a discreet establishment, the scent of cigar smoke and whispered conversations envelop me. It’s a place where alliances are forged and betrayals planned, a microcosm of the power struggles within the Russian mafia. I exchange terse words with my associates, finalizing details, and ensuring that the delicate balance of power remains intact in my absence. Moscow awaits, and the machinations of the underworld must continue in my stead.

The room is filled with a tense energy as plans are set in motion. The faces around me carry the weight of their own secrets, a reflection of the shadows we all inhabit.

As I make my last arrangements, I’m aware that my departure will leave a void, and the city will remember my presence.

I take a seat next to the window, ordering a coffee. I wait. I stare at the Rolex on my wrist, it’s 12:30 p.m.

---