Page 90 of Beautiful Cruelty

The pain in his voice makes my chest ache.

"I tried reaching out to Polina throughout the years. Again and again." His voice cracks. "But she rejected me every time. The final time I reached out to her, she told me she wished I'd never been born. That I was nothing but a reminder of the worst moment of her life. That she wishes she could've died, or better yet, killed me in her womb when she still had the chance."

I can't bear to see him hurting like this. Without thinking, I cup his face in my hands, thumbs brushing away the tears from his cheeks. The same way he comforted me when I cried about Mom's necklace. His skin is warm beneath my touch, and I feel him tremble slightly.

Those storm-gray eyes that usually hold such power and control now shine with raw vulnerability. This man who commands an empire, who makes people disappear with a word, who can reduce me to begging with just a look—he's carrying such deep wounds.

I want to gather him in my arms, to somehow shield him from all that pain. To tell him that he's not the monster his mother sees. That he's nothing like Pyotr.

My heart aches as I think of a young boy screaming for his mother to save him, only to watch her turn away. No child deserves that. No one deserves to carry that kind of rejection.

I stare at this powerful man before me, seeing him truly for the first time. Not as the dangerous pakhan who kidnapped me, or the seductive force who made me beg in a jewelry store. But as someone who carries wounds as deep as my own.

My chest aches with an unfamiliar tenderness. This isn't the heat that floods me when he calls mezvyozdochka, or the thrill that races through me when he touches me.

This is something different. Something that makes me want to protect him, to somehow ease the pain he carries.

The realization hits me hard: I've fallen for him. Not for the pakhan, or the billionaire, or the man who made it his life's work to save thousands from a fate that his mother suffered.

I've fallen for Vadim.

For the man who retrieved something for me because it's precious to me.

For the man who survived all this pain and still fights to save others from similar fates.

My fingers intertwine with his, and I feel him squeeze back ever so slightly. The gesture feels more intimate than any of our heated encounters. This isn't about desire or power or our elaborate ruse. This is real.

For the first time since arriving at Pankration, I don't want to run. I want to stay. To understand. To help him heal, even as he helps me reclaim pieces of my own past.

I look up into those storm-gray eyes, seeing past their usual mask of control to the vulnerability beneath. My heart swells with an emotion I'm not ready to name, but can no longer deny.

My fingers trace the diamond pendant at my throat, feeling its weight.

The contrast hangs heavy between us. Where I found love after abandonment, Vadim found only more pain. The weight of it shows in the tight line of his jaw, the shadows behind his eyes.

"You were lucky," he says finally, voice rough. "To have found people who wanted you. Who chose you."

"I was," I agree, my heart aching for the boy who never got that chance. "But Vadim, what happened to you…" I struggle to find the right words. "That's not because you were unwanted. It was because you were being trapped. There's a difference."

He stares at me for a long moment, like he's never considered this perspective before. Like maybe, just maybe, his mother's rejection wasn't about him at all, but about her own trauma. The realization seems to hit him physically, making his shoulders sink slightly.

I want to tell him more. About how Mom's love helped heal the wound of my original abandonment. About how being chosen can mend what being left behind breaks. But I see in his eyes that he's not ready to hear it.

His wounds run too deep.

My hands cup his face, and before he can react, I press my lips to his. The kiss is gentle. It isn't about desire or power.

It's about comfort, understanding, and connection.

Vadim's body goes rigid for a moment before he responds, his hands gripping my waist. But then he tears himself away, breathing heavily.

"Lacey, stop." His voice is strained. "If you keep doing this, I won't be able to control myself."

I step closer, my heart pounding. "Maybe I don't want you to."

"You don't understand." He backs away, running a hand through his hair. "I'm afraid I'll hurt you. The things I want to do to you..." His eyes darken with barely contained desire. "I can't risk becoming like him."

The pain in his voice breaks my heart. Even now, Pyotr's shadow looms over him. But I refuse to let that monster destroy this moment between us.

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