Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 95627 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95627 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
"Give her oral medication," he said to the doctor, his tone brooking no argument. "Make sure she understands exactly what it is and what it does."
Dr. Petrov nodded quickly, returning the syringe to his bag and pulling out a small bottle of pills instead.
Artem turned his attention back to me, and I struggled not to shrink under his gaze. "You should rest," he said. "My men will remain outside until further notice."
It wasn't a suggestion. It was an order.
"Why?" The question slipped out before I could stop it. "Why are you doing this?"
His expression darkened, something treacherous flickering in his eyes. “Because you're mine now, Viktoria. And I protect what's mine."
The words hung in the air between us, heavy with promise and threat.
I wanted to argue, to tell him I belonged to no one, but exhaustion and fear stole the words from my lips.
He moved closer, until he was standing right before me. Slowly, deliberately, he reached out and brushed a strand of wet hair from my face. His fingers barely grazed my skin, but I felt the touch like a brand.
"Get some rest," he said, his voice dropping to that low register that seemed to vibrate through my bones.
Then he was gone, leaving behind only the lingering scent of his cologne and the cold certainty that my life would never be the same again.
I was no longer my father's prisoner.
I was Artem's.
And somehow, that terrified me even more.
CHAPTER 7
VIKTORIA
Two weeks later.
I was a fool to think that Artem would really give me my freedom.
The very next day, the bursar's office asked me to come in to meet with them. When I did, they handed me a check for all the fees I'd scraped together to pay them for the current semester.
Artem had paid my tuition and room and board fees, not only for the current semester but for the next year and a half.
I just didn't know why. I knew he killed my father and younger brother, but men like Artem wouldn't put me through school as some kind of penance to soothe a guilty conscience.
From what little I had heard about the Ivanovs, if Artem was inclined to make amends for anything, I wouldn't even make the top one hundred.
Still, most mafia men would just marry me off to become someone else's problem. Or forget about me altogether.
Artem's presence haunted me, though I hadn't seen him since that night.
In the stillness of my dorm room at night, I'd find myself replaying our encounter—the intensity of his gaze, the heat of his touch.
Each night, I forced myself to push these thoughts aside, yet they returned with stubborn persistence, intruding on my dreams when my defenses were down.
I hadn't seen the rest of my family either, which confirmed my suspicions.
They were gone. Finally.
I knew I should mourn them, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it.
The only thing I felt was relief.
I let myself believe in the fantasy of freedom, and it felt amazing.
For a few brief, wonderful moments, I felt light.
I didn't look over my shoulder or overthink every action.
I could breathe.
I let the rush of adrenaline and the promise of having a life cloud my mind, so the first time I saw a man in a black-on-black suit following me, I thought nothing of it.
I was in Virginia after all, just outside the capital.
Maybe he was a secret service agent for one of the other students.
It had been made abundantly clear to me that most of the students came from the best boarding schools around the world. Many of them were the sons and daughters of diplomats, politicians, and CEOs. Surely one of them was important enough to warrant security.
Then I saw more.
Not always in suits.
Sometimes they were dressed to fit into the crowd of the college campus, but when I saw the same faces over and over, all watching me, even as they kept a respectful distance...
I knew the truth.
The first few days, I tried to ignore it.
Tried to convince myself I was being paranoid. There was no reason for Artem to have me followed.
Maybe it had nothing to do with the Russian mafia.
Maybe I was being targeted by a cult?
Maybe a frat house had determined I was going to be the new challenge for pledges.
I could be a target for human trafficking.
A million ideas ran through my mind, but the truth was clear.
Artem had eyes on me.
My freedom was nothing more than an illusion.
The only question was, was I going to allow it to continue?
Each morning I woke with a knot in my stomach, wondering if today would be the day he'd reappear.
When my phone buzzed with a notification, my heart would race until I confirmed it wasn't him.
The memory of his fingers brushing against my skin haunted me—a touch so brief I shouldn't even remember it, yet I did. Vividly. Especially in those vulnerable moments between wakefulness and sleep.