Page 6 of Crimson Curse
For a moment, his mask slips completely. I see raw hatred there, years of resentment and jealousy that have been festering like an infected wound.
“He took everything from me,” Viktor whispers. “Everything that should have been mine by right. The respect, the power, the fear. Even women throw themselves at him while I...” He stops himself, jaw clenching.
“While you what?”
“Nothing.” The mask slides back into place, but not perfectly. There are cracks now, fault lines I might be able to exploit. “The point is, I'm taking it back. All of it. Starting with you.”
I let silence fill the space between us, studying his face. Yesterday, Viktor seemed calculating and cold, dangerous in his control. Today, he looks desperate. Desperate men make mistakes.
“Why me?” I ask finally. “If this is about power and legitimacy, there must be other options. Women from Bratva families who understand this world.”
“Because you matter to him,” he says harshly. “Because taking you breaks him in a way that killing him never could. Because every day you spend here with me is another day he's failing to protect what he loves.”
And there it is. The truth beneath all his talk of bloodlines and legitimacy. This isn't about love or even desire. It's about inflicting the maximum possible pain on his cousin. I'm not a potential partner in his eyes. I'm a weapon. The realization should terrify me. Instead, it fills me with cold determination. If I'm a weapon, then I need to make sure I'm pointed in the right direction when the time comes.
That afternoon, while Viktor disappears outside to make phone calls, I begin my search of the cabin. I've been looking for obvious escapes, keys, phones, and weapons, but now I’mexpanding my search. I need to know everything about this place if I'm going to survive.
The main room contains little of interest beyond comfortable furniture and a bookshelf full of classics that look like they've never been opened. The kitchen yields nothing more dangerous than steak knives, and those are all accounted for. But in a drawer beneath old dish towels, I find something interesting: a property tax bill with an address.
Kenosha County, Wisconsin. We're not in Illinois at all, but across the state line. The cabin is listed under a shell company name I don't recognize, but it gives me something, a location, a starting point.
I memorize the address and return the bill to exactly where I found it, then continue my search. In Viktor's bedroom, I find clothes that span several seasons and a collection of burner phones in various states of charge. None of them are active, but their presence tells me this place has been used for covert activities before.
Most disturbing is what I find in the single dresser. Women's clothing in my size, still in their original packaging. As if he's been planning to keep me here for a while. The thought makes my stomach shake, but I force myself to keep searching.
By the time Viktor returns, I'm back in the main room, sitting calmly with one of his unread classics open in my lap.
“Tolstoy?” He seems pleased. “An excellent choice. Though perhaps a bit heavy for your condition.”
“I'm pregnant, not brain-damaged,” I reply evenly.
Viktor's laugh sounds genuinely delighted. “There's that fire again. Daniil always did prefer women with spirit.”
“Did he?” I close the book and look at him directly. “You seem to know a lot about his preferences.”
“I've made it my business to know.” Viktor settles into the chair across from me, and I notice he looks more relaxed than he has since I woke up here. The phone calls must have gone well. “Tell me, Naomi, what did he tell you about Sasha?”
The sudden change of subject catches me off guard. “Not much.”
“But you know what happened to her.”
It's not a question, so I don't answer.
“She was beautiful,” Viktor continues, as if I had. “Dark hair, green eyes. Artistic. She painted these elaborate scenes and portraits.” His voice drops to something almost fond. “So naive. She actually thought love could protect her from this world.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I want you to understand that I'm not the monster in this story, Naomi. Daniil is. He's the one who brought danger into your life. He's the one who put that child at risk by claiming you as his.”
“And what does that make you?”
Viktor considers this seriously. “The solution. The man strong enough to clean up his mess and build something better from the ashes.”
He genuinely believes he's doing the right thing, which makes him infinitely more dangerous than if he were simply evil.
He kneels before me, his hand pressing against my stomach. “And you’ll be by my side.” The words are a vow, thick with possession. He lifts my shirt and brushes a kiss against my skin, the false tenderness making me cringe. Every muscle in my body screams to shove him back, to smash his face with the book clutched in my lap. Instead, I remain frozen, unsure what kind of violence he would unleash if I resisted.
His hand slides upward, cupping my breast, and panic lodges in my chest. “You’re so beautiful,” he breathes, tugging the fabric aside before sealing his mouth over my nipple. His tongue is hot, greedy, and the violation makes me want to vomit. I force myself to stillness, every nerve screaming, and fighting the instinct to recoil. One wrong move could trigger his fury, and I can’t afford to provoke him. His hands explore me like I belong to him, and icy terror seizes me.
