chapter 23:His Mercy is a Lie
852 Words
The drive back to Viktor’s estate was silent. Not the kind of silence that brought comfort—but the kind that suffocated.
Alina sat rigidly in the back seat, her breathing shallow, her body aching from the crash. Viktor sat beside her, one arm stretched lazily along the back of the seat, his fingers close enough to brush against her shoulder. A constant, unspoken reminder that she was trapped.
He had said nothing since ordering Luka to drive them home.
Nothing at all.
But that was what terrified her most.
Viktor wasn’t shouting.
He wasn’t lashing out in anger.
He was calm.
And she had learned that when Viktor was calm—he was dangerous.
The SUV pulled through the towering iron gates, the estate looming like a fortress under the moon’s eerie glow.
Alina’s stomach twisted into knots as the car rolled to a stop.
Viktor opened his door but didn’t move to get out. Instead, his piercing eyes locked onto her, his expression unreadable.
“Out,” he commanded.
Her heart pounded.
She wanted to refuse.
She wanted to fight.
But she knew better.
Swallowing her fear, she forced her trembling legs to move. As soon as she stepped out, a strong hand wrapped around her wrist—not harshly, but unyielding.
Viktor didn’t look at her as he led her inside.
Through the grand hall.
Up the marble staircase.
Down the dimly lit corridor.
Straight to his room.
Alina’s pulse spiked as he pushed open the heavy door.
He didn’t take her to the cold, windowless room where he had kept her before.
He took her here—into his domain.
The large bedroom was just as she remembered: dark, imposing, a space that reflected him.
Viktor let go of her wrist and turned to close the door with a soft click.
The sound sent a chill through her.
No escape.
No one would hear her.
She took a step back, her entire body screaming to run.
Viktor’s eyes flickered with amusement as if he could read her thoughts.
"Go ahead," he murmured, his voice velvety smooth. "Run."
Alina’s breath hitched.
She didn’t move.
Because they both knew—if she ran, he would catch her.
A shiver ran down her spine as he took slow, deliberate steps forward.
"You disappoint me, Alina," he said, his tone deceptively soft. "After everything, you still think you can escape me?"
She clenched her fists.
"I had to try."
His jaw tensed.
"Try?" he echoed, stepping closer, his presence swallowing the air between them. "You crashed a car. You almost got yourself killed. And for what?"
Alina lifted her chin, even as fear clawed at her throat.
"For freedom."
A slow, dark chuckle escaped Viktor’s lips.
"Freedom?" He tilted his head, his fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. "From what, printsessa?"
She flinched at the way he said it. Princess.
Like she was something delicate. Something breakable.
From him.
That was the answer she wanted to say.
But before she could, his fingers gripped her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.
"Tell me," he whispered, his eyes darkening. "Did you enjoy running?"
Alina’s stomach clenched.
His grip wasn’t painful—but it held power.
A warning.
She forced herself to hold his gaze.
"It was the first time I could breathe."
Viktor’s expression didn’t change.
Not even a flicker of anger.
Instead, he exhaled slowly, almost as if he were amused by her defiance.
Then—without warning—he turned and walked toward the fireplace, pulling off his jacket with deliberate slowness.
Alina’s pulse raced.
Every movement, every calculated step—she knew what this was.
The calm before the storm.
He draped the jacket over a chair, then rolled up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt.
The tension in the room thickened.
Her breathing quickened.
What was he going to do?
Viktor turned back to her, his face still unreadable.
"You think I’m cruel, don’t you?"
Alina swallowed. "Yes."
His lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile.
"Then I suppose I shouldn’t disappoint you."
She barely had time to react before he grabbed her wrist and pulled her against him.
Alina gasped, her hands pressing against his chest to push him away—but he didn’t budge.
His arms caged her in, his body heat searing against hers.
"You want to run?" he murmured against her ear, his breath sending shivers down her spine. "Then run."
Her heart pounded.
"I can’t," she whispered.
His fingers traced down her spine, sending an involuntary tremor through her.
"No," he agreed. "You can’t."
Then, in one swift motion, he lifted her and carried her to the bed.
Alina struggled, kicking against him, but it was useless. He was too strong.
Viktor tossed her onto the mattress, his movements controlled, precise.
Not violent.
Not gentle.
Just—Viktor.
Alina’s breath came in short, panicked bursts as he loomed over her.
"You think this is punishment?" he mused, his fingers brushing against her wrist. "No, printsessa."
His grip tightened.
"I haven’t even begun."
To be continued…
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- Writer
