Just can't let you go

Larissa was unraveling.

She spent the entire day at work distracted, restless, frustrated.

Lukyan's words kept echoing in her head.

"I won't wait forever, Larissa."

She told herself it didn't matter. That this was still a contract.

That wanting him meant nothing.

But deep down?

Deep down, she knew she was lying.

Because if it meant nothing—

Why did the thought of losing him make her chest feel tight?

---

She came home late.

Hoping he'd be asleep. Hoping she could breathe.

But of course, he wasn't.

Lukyan sat in the dimly lit living room, a glass of whiskey in hand, his eyes already on her.

Waiting.

She swallowed. Held her ground.

"You're up late."

His jaw tightened. "So are you."

She hesitated. "I had work."

He exhaled through his nose. "Right."

Something in his tone made her stomach twist.

Like he was finally giving up.

She should feel relieved.

Instead, she felt like she was about to suffocate.

---

Lukyan had made his decision.

He wasn't going to chase her anymore.

If she wanted to keep running? Fine.

But he wasn't going to stand there, waiting for her to realize what was right in front of her.

Because he knew what he wanted.

And if she didn't?

Then maybe—just maybe—he needed to start letting her go.

---

For the first time in weeks, he went to bed without thinking about her.

Or at least, he tried.

But the empty space beside him, the sheets that had once held her warmth, mocked him.

And that's when he knew.

Even if he wanted to let her go—

He couldn't.

Because Larissa Petrov had never just been a contract.

She was his.

And she always would be.

---

Larissa felt like she was suffocating.

Lukyan had stopped pushing.

Stopped looking at her with that fire in his eyes.

Stopped trying to pull her closer.

And she hated it.

Because now? Now, she was the one waiting.

The one watching him.

The one aching.

And it was killing her.

Because she had spent years trying to convince herself she could live without him.

But now?

Now, she wasn't so sure.

---

She stayed awake that night.

Tossing. Turning. Fighting with herself.

And then, before she could talk herself out of it—

She got out of bed.

Her pulse raced as she stepped into the hallway.

As she walked to his door.

As she hesitated, her hand hovering over the handle.

Because once she stepped inside—

There would be no turning back.

But then she thought about what would happen if she didn't.

What would happen if she let Lukyan slip through her fingers.

And that?

That was the only thing more terrifying than admitting the truth.

So she took a breath.

And she opened the door.

---

Lukyan's POV)

Lukyan barely had time to react before she was there.

Standing in his doorway.

In nothing but her silk nightgown, her eyes burning with something he had never seen before.

Something like surrender.

His heart stopped.

He sat up slowly, his voice rough. "Larissa?"

She swallowed hard. Didn't run.

And then—

She closed the door.

And just like that—

The war was over.

---

The room was too quiet.

Lukyan was already awake.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, his forearms resting on his knees, his head slightly bowed.

Like he had been expecting.

Like he had been waiting.

His gaze locked onto hers.

His blue eyes dark, unreadable. Waiting.

For her to speak.

For her to run.

For her to do anything.

But Larissa didn't run.

Not this time.

She closed the door behind her, fingers trembling.

Then she whispered the only words she could manage—

"I don't want to be alone tonight."

---

Lukyan exhaled. Rough. Tense. Needing.

Lukyan's body went tight.

She was finally here.

In his room. In his space. Coming to him.

Not because of a contract.

Not because of duty.

Because she wanted to.

His voice was hoarse. "Say it again."

Larissa's breath hitched.

Her chin lifted, and for the first time in years, she let herself be honest.

"I don't want to be alone."

And that was all he needed.

---

He moved.

Slow. Deliberate.

Crossing the space between them in three strides, watching as her breath grew uneven, as her hands fisted at her sides.

She wasn't running.

But she was still bracing herself.

So he reached for her—carefully.

One hand sliding over her waist, the other lifting her chin.

And then, he kissed her.

Not hard. Not demanding.

Just real.

And Larissa?

For the first time, she kissed him back without fear.

---