Page 54 of His Hold

Kirill nods, his eyes merciless. “Surprised, volchok? She’s more Bratva than you thought. Your little printsessa got secrets.”

My world fractures, Katya’s truth a wound I never saw coming.

***

My mind is a mess as I drive back home.

Kirill’s words hit like a sucker punch, still burning in my skull.

The girl you’ve been running around with like a dog in heat—she’s the one who pulled the trigger.

It shouldn’t matter. The man who practically raised me was nothing but a means to an end. But the pain isn’t from the truth, it’s from the lie. The one she’s been feeding me with every kiss, every breathy confession, every goddamn touch.

It shouldn’t matter. Shouldn’t get under my skin like this. But it does. Because I let her in. Let her tear through me like she had a right to be there.

I remember her eyes when I took her back to the cabin. The way she clung to me, how her voice whispered that she needed me. That she couldn’t do this alone.

The nights tangled together; her body pressed against mine like it was the only place she ever belonged. I remember her laughing, really laughing, and it hurts to even remember.

All of it plays through my mind like a sick joke. Because now I don’t know what was real and what wasn’t.

Was she always pretending? Was she waiting for the perfect moment to strike? Every time I held her. Every time I let her in.

By the time I reach the penthouse, my chest feels tight, my hands numb from gripping the wheel so hard. I need answers. I need the truth. And I need her to stop making me feel like I’m the one going insane.

The lights spill softly into the hallway, the faint scent of cooking creeping through the room. Katya stands in the kitchen, hacking at vegetables like she’s trying to obliterate them. Her shoulders are rigid, her grip on the knife white-knuckled.

I linger in the doorway, watching her. Waiting for the anger to cool. But it only grows. But there’s also something warm that stirs inside me. It has something strangely comforting about it—like a brief glimpse into a life I’ll never truly know. A dangerous pull toward normalcy, something I have no right to crave.

“What did the vegetables ever do to you?” I ask. My voice sounds colder than I intend.

She jumps, the knife clattering against the cutting board before her fingers clench around it. Her eyes snap to mine, and for a moment, I see something like relief before her expression hardens.

“Maybe they’re easier to cut than some problems.”

“Convenient.” I step closer, feeling the frayed edges of my control slipping. “And I thought you enjoyed complications.”

She stares at me, suspicion etched into her expression. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You tell me.” I lean against the counter, my eyes locked on hers. “You seem to enjoy making things messy. Following me. Accusing me. Lying to me.”

“What’s this about, Nikolai?”

She’s quiet for a beat when I don’t respond, and I just continue to stare at her, her eyes flicking to the knife like it’s her only defence. “I didn’t think you were coming back tonight.”

“Change of plans.”

She nods slowly. “Alright.”

“Alright?” I echo, a bitter laugh scraping from my throat. “Is that all you have to say?”

“What do you want me to say, Nikolai?” Her voice is careful.

I take another step. “I want the truth.”

She flinches, her mouth opening and closing like she’s lost the ability to speak.

“What’s this about?”

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