Alex's fingers drifted lazily through my hair as I lay sprawled across his chest on the couch, in his office. My cheek pressed over his heart. His skin was still warm, still damp from where we'd moved together. His steady heartbeat thudded beneath my ear, slow and relaxed, grounding.
The high hadn't quiet left my yet. I still felt suspended somewhere between breath and gravity. My limbs loose, my thoughts softening at its edges. It was always like this after being with him. Quietly blissful, like I had been unraveled completely by him, only to be gathered back together in his arms. Like a feather settling after a storm.
"What if your grandfather doesn't make it?" he asked quietly into the dim room. "Would you still want your revenge?"
The question cut through the haze.
I had thought about it. Of course I had. Last I heard, his condition had remained the same. So the possibility that he might die without ever knowing what I had done, without seeing his beloved empire shifting beneath his feet, had naturally crossed my mind more than once.
But I was already too deep in it.
There was no halfway out of this.
"At this point," I said softly, tracing the idle lines along his ribs, "I'm not sure revenge is even the point anymore."
His fingers paused briefly in my hair before resuming, slower now. Thoughtful.
"It depends on how you look at it," he murmured. "It would've been...poetic if he had been awake to see what you've built. What you've taken back."
A humorless breath left me.
"My grandfather is evil," I said, staring at the ceiling. "Possibly the most evil person I know. No parent destroys their own blood just because their son married the wrong woman."
There was no judgment in Alex's silence. Only presence.
"He meant to kill your mother," he said finally.
My body went rigid despite myself. A familiar ache bloomed in my throat, sharp and old.
"I know," I whispered. "That's why I needed to finish this, no matter what."
His hand shifted from my hair to my back, spreading wide, holding me closer. Not possessive this time, not demanding. Just steady. Like he knew that even after all the violence, the fire, this was the part of me that still hurt the most.
My eyes lifted to meet my husband's. He studied me quietly, something softer beneath the steel in his gaze.
"It's the only way we get a safer future," I said at last, my voice calmer than I felt. "Not just for me. But also for us."
His thumb traced a slow line along my spine. "My men have drawn up a list of potential allies," he said. "Those who secretly oppose your grandfather. Those who would rather see you on that throne, sooner rather than later. We could use them to our advantage now, being the enemy of our enemy and all that." A faint pause. "We'll offer them positions they can't refuse. Incentives. Even protection."
I nodded against his chest. "I've had a few in mind as well," I admitted. "People he overlooked. People he underestimated."
A quiet hum of approval left him. "So what do you say? Shall we begin tomorrow?"
Anxiety coiled low in my stomach, spreading through me like roots tightening around soil. Sometimes I questioned whether I was playing this right, whether dragging him into my war was selfish, reckless even. But he stepped into it willingly, despite how hard I tried to push him away.
I just didn't want him to hurt or lose the lives he truly cared about. Like Olga.
His hand slid beneath my chin, tipping my face up to his. I shifted over him without breaking eye contact, straddling his hips once more. Our bodies aligned instinctively, familiarity sparking heat between us. I felt him harden beneath me, solid and undeniable. His strength steadying something inside me.
"Don't be afraid for me, Princess," he said quietly, his hands firm along my jaw. My hair spilling between his fingers like silk, brushing against his wrists.
His touch drifted downward, slow and deliberate, over the curve of my throat, my collarbone, the swell of my chest. "You have a beautiful heart," he murmured, voice roughened by something deeper than desire. His fingers traced lower, possessive yet reverent, until they found the sensitive peak of my breast, already reacting to him. "But your fears are misplaced."
His mouth followed the path of his hands, warm and demanding, drawing a breathless sound out of me. He looked up at me beneath those dark lashes. A gaze that was fierce and unwavering, full of possession.
"I can protect myself," he breathed against my skin, voice low and fierce. "And I will protect what's mine."
"You know I can't help but worry," I murmured, voice trembling with need, before crashing my lips onto his with desperate hunger.
My hands slid between us, fingers closing around him as I sank down slowly, fully burying him deep inside me.
A sharp gasp tore out of him, as I cupped his neck, deepening our kiss whilst moving against him with slow, fierce intent. We had just done this, and yet, it was like the fire between us burned hotter than ever. Wild and uncontrollable, utterly ours.
"Fuck, I love you," he hissed, his teeth sinking into my lip with a fierce claim.
A sharp gasp tore out of me, mingling with a moan that quickened as pain bled into pleasure. My hands found the back of the sofa, gripping it tight to anchor myself as I drove harder and deeper against him.
His hands locked onto my waist, pulling me mercilessly closer, every movement raw and urgent.
"Oh, Alex...fuck..." I breathed, lost in the maddening rhythm of us.
There was nothing but him. His body, his breath, his fire. Nothing but us. And in that chaotic storm of sensation, my heart shattered open. I didn't think I could love him more fiercely than I ever thought possible.
His green eyes, heavy-lidded and glazed with something like disbelief and devotion, locked onto mine. It was as if he could barely believe this moment was real. Us, tangled and raw, stripped bare in every sense.
We rode the wave together, every gasp and tremor binding us together, every shudder a vow neither of us had to say out loud. And when it finally broke, it tore through us, raw and blinding until we were left clinging to each other as if the world was falling away beneath our feet.
Alex's breath dragged hot across my skin as he pressed his forehead to mine. "If it makes you feel any better," he murmured hoarsely, "I promise I'll stay alive."
I traced the sharp line of his jaw, my thumb brushing over the stubble there, memorizing him as if I could carve him into myself. "You don't get to make promises like that," I whispered. "You don't have a choice, husband. You're not allowed to leave me."
He chuckled low, his arms tightening around me. "That works both ways, Princess."
"Good," I breathed, resting my head against his shoulder, feeling the steady thud of his heart beneath my cheek. "Because I don't plan on going anywhere."
There was something dark in the way we said it. Something almost fatalistic. As if loving each other meant accepting the violence of the world around us, and daring it to try anyway.
We lay tangled together, skin to skin, hearts still racing in the aftermath. Outside, the strip club kept moving. The women collecting their secrets, shifting the empires, plotting the downfall of our enemies.
But in this dim office, with his arms locked around me like a vow, the only thing that mattered was that we were still here.
That we had found each other.
Still choosing each other, despite everything.