Page 36 of His Grip

His hands were steady as he reached for the bandage. His touch, though, was careful, deliberate. She could feel the heat of his palm even through the fabric of her shirt as he undid the makeshift dressing she had applied herself earlier. Each movement was slow, almost too slow. As if he was prolonging it on purpose.

"You should have let me tend to this earlier," Viktor muttered in frustration.

"I’m fine," Sofia replied, but the words felt hollow. She didn’t want to admit that her body was starting to betray her; that the injury, though minor, had opened a chasm she wasn’t prepared to acknowledge.

His touch was gentle as he cleaned the wound, and Sofia found herself unable to move, caught between irritation and something else—a strange vulnerability.

Viktor worked quietly, his focus never wavering from her arm. When he finished cleaning the wound, he took a fresh bandage from the kit. His hands lingered on her skin as he wrapped it, each motion deliberate, as if he was trying to make the moment last.

Sofia’s skin burned where his fingers brushed, the intimacy of it jarring. He wasn’t touching her like a man trying to fix a problem. He was doing it like... something else. She didn’t know what to make of it.

Once he was finished, Viktor didn’t immediately step back. Instead, his hands hovered for a moment, just above her arm, as if waiting for permission to let go. It was a strange, lingering moment, one she couldn’t quite understand.

“You should rest,” Viktor finally said, quieter now, softer. “I’ll be here if you need anything.”

Sofia didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Instead, she let him leave, her thoughts swirling as she remained on the couch. The moment between them had been more than just physical. Something had shifted, but she didn’t know what. Viktor had always been a force to reckon with, but tonight, he had shown a side of himself that Sofia didn’t know how to interpret.

She stared at the spot where his touch had been, the warmth lingering in her skin, before pulling her legs up on the couch and trying to ignore the growing confusion inside her.

Viktor had been right there, so close, enveloping her, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to say anything. She had always told herself that she wouldn’t fall for him, that she wouldn’t let herself become tangled in whatever game he was playing. But the reality of what had just passed between them left her unsettled.

And for the first time in a long while, she found herself questioning whether she had underestimated him—underestimated them. Sofia shifted uncomfortably on the couch. The quiet felt suffocating, too still for her liking. Her thoughts raced, replaying the mission, the chaos of it, and everything that had happened. She hadn’t expected Viktor to act the way he did, hadn’t expected him to take charge like that. It was almost as if he cared—really cared—about her well-being.

But she didn’t know if that was just him playing a part in the game, or if there was more to it. She’d been around men like him before—cold, calculating, ruthless. They didn’t show weakness. They didn’t let anyone in.

But Viktor had let her see a crack in his armor. That made her uneasy.

She rubbed her temple, trying to push the thoughts away. It wasn’t the time to second-guess herself. Ivan needed her, and that was all that mattered.

When Viktor returned from the kitchen, his expression was unreadable, his usual mask firmly in place. But there was something in his eyes—something that made Sofia’s heart skip in her chest. She didn’t understand it, didn’t know how to read it.

He rocked back and forth as he stood over her, a Goliath looming over David. Even though she felt small next to him, he didn’t crowd her in a way that made her frightened. His stoic expression always made him hard to read, but she’d peeked past that exterior wall once. She could do it again.

“Sit down with me for a minute, Viktor.” She tapped the side of the couch, her eyes darting restlessly. “It’s so quiet right now…I don’t think I want to be alone, please.”

She was showing vulnerability, too, but somehow, she didn’t care. All she wanted was for him to hold her and ease the stillness in the room. Viktor sank onto the couch, heaving as if this was what he’d needed to be asked all along. They sat together, not touching, not talking for a few seconds. In that silence, her mind drifted back to the gunshots, the fight, and?—

“Were you scared?”

She glanced at him. “What?”

Viktor turned fully to face her and sighed. “You said your father taught you how to use a gun, and that’s fine. You did great today, but I want to know if you were frightened. If you?—”

“I was.” Admitting this to him wasn’t easy, especially since she knew he still held power over her, and one slip could mean he’d never let her past the walls of the penthouse again. But suddenly, she wanted to tell him everything. It was almost like that first night they’d met; his words, his voice, his confidencemade her want to spill secrets. “I knew you were there and that you wouldn’t let anything happen to me, Viktor, but it was scary as hell.”

He reached out, cupping her cheeks, his gaze roaming over her face until she thought she wouldn’t be able to breathe again. “I failed today. I wanted to protect you, but I let this happen.”

“You didn’t?—”

“Sofia—”

“No!” She shook her head and shifted closer to him. “You protected me, and I’m grateful. Thank you, Viktor.”

“You should get some rest,” he said after a moment, his voice tight and distant. “I’ll make sure nothing like this ever happens to you again. That’s a promise, Sofia.”

Where was the ruthless, cold man? He was still there, but now there was a light in the darkness, something she didn’t have to peek inside to see. He stood to leave, but she held his hand and stood with him. “Something’s changed between us, Viktor. Why are you doing this? Why do you care so much?”

He looked at her as if she’d just said something unforgivable. “Nothing has changed. Don’t get ideas in your head, Sofia. I’ll protect you because you belong to me?—”

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