Zara
The sound of the front door clicking shut echoed too loud in the silence of the house. I walked in without thinking, as if muscle memory was stronger than pride, dropping my bag on the hallway bench like I belong here
I stared at the dim light flooding from the kitchen, then to the empty hallway that leads to the stairs. Victor's absence presses in around me. It feels unfamiliar. Almost suffocating.
I pulled off my coat slowly and hung it by the door, trying to convince myself I didn't just come here because a part of me was desperate to be near him after everything that happened.
Right then, my phone buzzed in my hand from Nico.
He's still tying things up at the club. He'll be there later.
Sighing, I walk into the kitchen. The light overhead flickers slightly as I grab a glass from the cabinet and pour some water. My fingers shook, just a little. Not from fear, but from memory.
I sank into the barstool and let my mind wander because I couldn't stop it now even if I tried.
Budapest. Five years ago. We were supposed to be in and out. I remembered that clearly.
One of Victor's deals. Not flashy. Not public. Just quiet money, cold hands, and steel nerves. I went because I was curious and stupid. I thought I could handle it. Thought he'd keep me in the car, on the outskirts of it all, but the deal went sideways in less than ten minutes.
We were in an old warehouse just outside the city. Snow fell through broken windows. My breath showed in the air. I was standing beside Victor, tucked slightly behind him like always. I remembered his hand brushing mine. I remember him saying, "Don't speak unless I say."
Then... the shouts. The gunfire. The panic.
It was chaos. Men yelling in Hungarian. Two of Victor's men went down instantly. One grabbed me, tried to drag me away. I screamed and fought. I didn't want to leave Victor. Not when I saw him raise his weapon, eyes going dark like nightfall.
He moved like death. Cold, swift, and terrifying. He shot without hesitation. Without blinking.
Blood hit the snow. A man dropped near my feet, gurgling something I couldn't understand, but I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. And Victor?
He didn't flinch. He shot the next one, and the next.
Then he grabbed me, pushed me against a pillar, and held his body against mine, shielding me. His breath was ragged, and his arm was bleeding, but his voice was steady.
"Don't look. Just stay behind me."
And I listened. I looked anyway and saw the side of him I think he never wanted me to that day.
I snapped back to the present. Still sitting alone in Victor's too-quiet house.
Now I understood.
I used to think Victor was controlling, paranoid, and obsessed with order. But he's not.
He's just a man who's seen how fast everything can fall apart and knows he's the only thing standing between that world and the people he cares about.
I leaned back, staring at the ceiling.
Maybe he was right to be angry earlier. Maybe I don't understand what it really means to love someone like him. Not fully, but I'm starting to.
He's still out there. Handling whatever mess tonight had stirred up. Making sure I'm safe and I'm just here. Waiting.
Not because I'm weak, but because tonight reminded me of something I've tried to forget:
Victor Antonov doesn't know peace.
So maybe he deserves to come home to someone who can offer him a little of it.