Page 53 of His Grip

Viktor didn’t know when the moral line had blurred, but somewhere along the way, his view of the world had become dark and jagged, filled with compromises that made his decisions easier. But today... today, he would make the ultimate decision.

The sound of gunfire and shouting echoed from the far side of the warehouse. Viktor turned to his team, nodding to each of them as they moved into position. He could hear the battle erupting, the clash of metal, and the roar of men determined to win at all costs. But none of it mattered—not when Alexei was in his sights.

"Move out," Viktor commanded.

The team spread out, taking down Alexei’s men with precision and efficiency. Viktor led the charge, his mind sharp, calculating each move. This wasn’t just a fight for survival—it was a fight for his future. For everything he had worked for. Andwhen Alexei lay broken and bloodied at his feet, Viktor would finally have what he deserved: power.

As Viktor cleared a corner, he came face to face with Alexei. The man was exactly as Viktor had always imagined—arrogant, cold, and unrelenting. He stood in the middle of the room, surveying the chaos around him with the detached amusement of someone who believed himself to be untouchable.

"You’re too late, Viktor," Alexei said with a grin, his eyes glinting with malice. "This is the end for you."

Viktor’s lips curled into a sneer. "Not yet."

Without another word, Viktor lunged at Alexei, the two men colliding in a flurry of fists and rage. The battle between them was vicious, each blow driven by years of hatred and betrayal. Viktor could taste the blood in his mouth as he landed a punch to Alexei’s jaw, but Alexei retaliated just as fiercely, slamming a knee into Viktor’s stomach.

The fight felt endless—two men locked in a struggle for dominance, both unwilling to back down. But Viktor began to feel the weight of the situation hanging over him, each movement slower than the last, as if the fight had become secondary to something deeper. The rage that had fueled him at the start had dulled, replaced by a more unsettling realization. The choice ahead wasn’t just about survival; it was about what kind of man he would become.

Viktor had allowed this war to drag on for far too long, and now, nearing its end, he questioned if it had all been worth it. He didn’t dwell on this for long, though—above the chaos, he knew he had to finish this once and for all. He needed to make an example of Alexei, a warning to anyone who would dare threaten him or his family, including Ivan.

With renewed ferocity, he slammed his fist against Alexei, targeting spots that would prolong his suffering. Viktor wanted him to experience every ounce of pain as he slipped away. Whenhe finally stopped, his fists were bloodied, and he took heavy gasps of breath as he turned away from the lifeless body. While his men dealt with the remnants of Alexei’s forces, his attention was consumed by Sofia—the woman who had ignited this storm inside him, his ally, and in some ways, his anchor. She stood before him, her eyes searching his face, perhaps for something he couldn’t provide.

The room felt heavy, the distant sounds of battle fading into the background. Viktor’s pulse raced, his body still coursing with adrenaline, but something else gnawed at him—a gnawing emptiness that had nothing to do with the blood spilled or the violence that had unfolded.

Turning toward Sofia, he searched her face for answers that eluded him. "Why are you here, Sofia?" His voice was tight, harsher than he intended. "You know how dangerous this is. You shouldn’t be here… you shouldn’t have to see things like this.”

“It’s okay, Viktor.” She stepped closer, her gaze unwavering. “You’ve tried your best to keep me away from all the blood, but believe me when I tell you I’m willing to go through fire for you. That’s how much I care about you.”

Viktor’s jaw clenched at her words, stirring something deep within him. His fingers curled into fists at his sides; for a moment, he thought he might lose control again. Instead, he exhaled, his shoulders sagging slightly as he leaned against the wall, his eyes falling to the ground.

"I don’t know if I can be that man anymore," he muttered, more to himself than to her. "I’ve been fighting for so long...But when does it end, Sofia? When does it stop?"

Sofia moved closer, her eyes softening as she reached for his arm. "It ends when you decide who you want to be," she said quietly. "Not when you’ve destroyed everyone else who stands in your way."

Her touch was grounding, and Viktor closed his eyes, the weight of her words sinking in. But his anger, his frustration—those feelings hadn’t dissipated. He wasn’t sure they ever would.

"Do you understand what you’ve done, Sofia? You put yourself in harm’s way again. For what? To prove something to me?"

Her eyes widened, and she took a step back, her chest rising and falling with her own unsteady breath. "No. I did it for Ivan. For us. I didn’t have a choice."

"You always have a choice," Viktor said sharply, taking a step toward her. His anger surged again, but it was no longer directed at Alexei. It was directed at her, for making decisions for him, for putting herself in danger without thinking of the consequences. "You think you can act like this, and I’ll just?—"

Before he could finish, she closed the gap between them, her hands coming up to grab his shoulders, her fingers digging into him as she stood on her toes to bring her lips to his. The kiss was demanding, and as much as Viktor tried to resist, to hold back, he couldn’t. She had become his obsession, and in that moment, he was all too aware of how much he needed her.

Sofia’s lips were urgent against his, parting with a rawness that spoke of their frustration, their anger, and the tangled mess they were caught in. He responded with equal ferocity, his hands grabbing her by the waist, pulling her closer until there was no space between them. His mind screamed at him to stop, to think, but all he could hear was the pounding of his blood in his ears, his instincts taking over.

They stumbled backward, knocking into a table, but neither of them cared. The only thing that mattered was the heat between them, the desperation, the need to feel something real after all the bloodshed. Viktor’s hands roamed over Sofia’s body, tugging at her clothes, his frustration spilling out through the kiss. But Sofia wasn’t the innocent woman he had met monthsago—she had learned to match him, her own hunger building in response to his.

For a fleeting moment, Viktor thought about stopping, about pulling away before things went too far. But the thought of losing her, the thought of the distance between them after everything they had been through, was too much to bear.

He was already too far gone.

His lips trailed down to her neck, tasting the warmth of her skin, and Sofia gasped, her hands pulling at his shirt as if she couldn’t get close enough. The world around them blurred into nothingness, leaving only the two of them locked in a moment of raw, unfiltered need.

Viktor’s mind was racing, but there was one thought that refused to leave him: this wasn’t just about passion. This was about claiming her, as if he could somehow erase the anger, the pain, the distrust that had piled up between them.

He had always believed in perfect dominance. But with Sofia, it was slipping through his fingers, and no matter how hard he fought against it, he couldn’t stop himself from wanting her.

CHAPTER 22

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