The Jealous Ghost
641 Words
The hall of the Russian company glowed with gold light and cigarette smoke. Officers laughed too loudly, and the scent of vodka hung in the air. Ekaterina stood near the long table, her white nurse’s coat replaced by a simple gray dress they’d given her — clean but foreign, a uniform of civility among wolves.
Alexei was across the room, deep in conversation with two generals. His mask was off, his expression composed. Every few minutes, though, his eyes flicked toward her — always watching.
She didn’t like it.
She didn’t like how he made her feel — safe, angry, confused all at once.
And part of her wanted to see what it would take to break that calm exterior.
So she smiled — not at him, but at one of the officers nearby. A young man in a pristine coat with medals that gleamed more than his courage.
> “You must be Captain Dragunov’s nurse,” he said, bowing slightly. “The famous one.”
> “I don’t know about famous,” Ekaterina said with a polite smile. “But yes, I’ve treated his men.”
The officer grinned, leaning a little too close. “Then you must be brave. Or foolish.”
She forced a light laugh, glancing over his shoulder at Alexei — who was still watching, though his jaw had begun to tighten.
> “Maybe both,” she said, lifting her glass.
The officer laughed, clearly emboldened. “A woman like you shouldn’t waste your charm on soldiers. We could use someone with your beauty and skill here, with us.”
His tone had changed — too familiar, too presumptuous.
Ekaterina’s smile faded. “I’m not here to be used,” she said quietly.
But before she could move away, the man stepped closer, brushing his hand against her arm — a small gesture, but one that carried the weight of arrogance and ownership.
The sound that followed was sharp and sudden.
A fist hitting flesh.
The officer staggered back, clutching his jaw. Alexei stood between them now, his eyes burning with fury.
> “Touch her again,” he said in a low, dangerous voice, “and I’ll remind you what rank really means.”
The room went silent. Even the generals froze.
> “Captain—” one of them began, but Alexei didn’t look away from the man he’d struck.
> “Out,” he growled. “All of you.”
One by one, the men shuffled from the room, some muttering, others whispering. When the door closed, Alexei turned to Ekaterina. His anger was still there, but underneath it was something else — fear, maybe, or hurt.
> “What were you doing?” he demanded.
She crossed her arms. “Talking.”
> “Flirting,” he said sharply. “With men you don’t know. Men who—”
> “Men who treat me better than my captor?” she shot back.
That stopped him. For a moment, neither spoke. The fire crackled, throwing light across his face.
> “You think I enjoy keeping you here?” he said finally, his voice low. “You think this is easy for me?”
> “Then let me go,” she whispered.
He took a step forward, his voice breaking. “If I let you go, they’ll kill you, Ekaterina. And I…” He stopped himself, looking away.
> “You what?” she asked.
He didn’t answer.
The silence stretched until she sighed and turned away. “You can’t protect me from everyone, Alexei.”
> “Maybe not,” he said softly, “but I’ll die trying.”
He left the room before she could reply. The door slammed behind him, leaving her alone with the echoes of everything neither of them dared to say aloud.
- Writer
