CHAPTER 24

Elara sat cross-legged on the edge of the bed, biting the corner of her thumbnail until the skin stung. Her other hand trembled where it rested on her lap, her thoughts spiraling like a whirlpool of panic. Her chest ached from holding in too much air, her stomach felt twisted in knots, and her mind wouldn't stop racing.

She had to find something. A reason. A lie strong enough, cruel enough, that it would convince Nikolai to let her go.

But her heart refused to cooperate.

She heard the soft pad of his footsteps before the bedroom door creaked open and shut again with a quiet, definitive click. She didn't look up, but she could feel the weight of him filling the room like a storm cloud pressing against her skin.

She turned her head slowly, and their eyes met.

The moment their gazes locked, she knew it was over. He saw it.

The fear.

She knew she hadn't masked it well enough. And Nikolai—Nikolai was trained to read people like open books.

He closed the distance with calm, measured steps and leaned against the door, his arms crossed, jaw tight. He didn't speak immediately. For a second, he just stared at her like she was the most fragile and unpredictable thing in the world.

Then he cleared his throat, voice quieter than she expected. "We need to talk. Really talk."

Elara broke eye contact, her nails digging into her palm. "I'm not changing my mind," she said, barely above a whisper.

Nikolai sighed, not in frustration, but in a way that sounded almost mournful. "Are you scared?" he asked.

The question lodged in her throat like a shard of glass. She didn't answer. Didn't nod. Didn't shake her head.

She just sat there, breathing like each inhale hurt.

Then came the next question.

"Do you know something?"

She flinched.

Not visibly. Not to anyone else. But to Nikolai… he saw it. The slight jerk of her shoulder. The stiffness of her back. The way her hands curled tighter on her thighs.

She shook her head, but it was too late. He already knew.

"Elara," he said gently, "don't lie to me. Please."

She looked away, chest rising and falling erratically. He took a careful step forward.

"Give me your phone."

Her eyes snapped back to his. "Why?"

"I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to see something."

She hesitated. For a full beat, her instinct screamed at her to say no, to hide it, to pretend. But she knew it was pointless.

She unlocked the screen and passed it to him with shaking hands.

Nikolai took it calmly, pulled up her search history with ease, and there it was. He stared at the screen in silence, the words glaring up at him:

Volkov Bratva.

Bratva hierarchy.

Mikhail Volkov.

What happens to Bratva informants?

Volkov family secrets.

He exhaled slowly through his nose. Not in anger. But as if confirmation had both relieved and crushed him at once.

So… she knew.

That explained the sudden change. The distance. The lie. The fear in her eyes.

He handed the phone back to her without a word and walked to the bed. When he sat beside her, she instinctively shifted away.

That hurt more than he let on.

He turned to her, watching her stare down at the floor, her arms curled around herself like a barrier.

"I won't hurt you," he said softly, his voice barely more than a breath. "Elara… I love you. So much. Just… tell me the truth."

She squeezed her eyes shut, then let out a shaky breath.

"I overheard you," she finally whispered. "On the phone. You were arguing with someone—Sergei. You said something about a shipment gone wrong. That some of the girls were pregnant. Bruised."

His face hardened instantly, jaw tightening, eyes flickering with pain and regret. He rubbed a hand down his face and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I didn't want you to hear that."

She let out a bitter scoff. "That's it? That's all you have to say?"

He looked at her slowly, eyes filled with shadows. "What do you want me to say?"

"I don't know," she snapped, her voice cracking. "Deny it. Tell me I heard wrong. Say it's not what it sounded like."

He didn't.

Instead, he sat up straighter, his voice steady and resolute. "You didn't hear wrong."

Her breath caught.

"I'm in the Bratva, Elara," he said, his voice steady but weighed with something ancient and heavy. "I was born into it. Bred by it. And now I run parts of it."

There. It was out.

She laughed, the sound sharp and humorless. "A family business," she muttered, shaking her head. "You run a family business that ruins lives. That breaks girls. That turns people into shadows of themselves."

Nikolai didn't flinch. But his silence was heavy. He sat beside her like a man condemned.

"I didn't want to lie to you," he said finally, voice low. "I didn't want you to find out like this."

"You wanted me to never find out at all."

"I wanted to protect you," he corrected gently.

She turned her face away, and silence filled the space between them like fog.

A war had begun. Not between them—but within him.

He loved her more than anything. But he would not walk away from the Bratva. It was in his blood, in his bones. To leave it would be like amputating a part of himself. A part of who he was.

But Elara… she was something else.

She was the only softness in his world of brutality. The light he never expected to have.

And he would fight like hell to keep both.

Elara pushed off the bed with a shaky breath, her heart pounding against her ribcage like it was trying to escape. She stood stiffly, her posture rigid, eyes still glossy from holding back tears.

"I want to leave," she said firmly, though her voice trembled just slightly.

Nikolai straightened up slowly, like a shadow rising. "Elara—"

"You wanted a good enough reason," she snapped, not letting herself falter. "Well, here it is. I can't be with a man who ruins lives for a living. That's my reason."

The silence that followed her words was deafening. It cracked through the air like a thunderclap, and for a long beat, Nikolai didn't move. He just stared at her like he didn't understand the language she was speaking.

Then, slowly, he stood up. His tall frame loomed over hers, but there was nothing threatening in his expression—only devastation. His chest rose and fell unevenly, as though it physically hurt to breathe.

"No," he whispered, shaking his head. "No, I can't lose you."

His hand reached for her, and she turned, ready to step away, but he was faster. His fingers wrapped gently—but firmly—around her wrist, holding her in place.

"Let me go, Nikolai," she said, trying to tug her arm back, but he didn't loosen his grip.

"I can't," he said, voice breaking at the edges. "Elara, please… I can't lose you. Not now. Not after everything."

She stared at him, defiant. "Then choose. It's either the Bratva… or me."

A silence, heavier than before, fell between them.

Nikolai closed his eyes for a second, like she'd just stabbed him straight through the chest. He took in a slow breath, then opened them—green eyes intense, clear, and resolute.

"No," he said softly, but firmly. "That's not happening."

She stared at him, stunned.

"I won't choose," he said, voice rising slightly. "I'm keeping both. I want both. I need both."

Elara let out a bitter, disbelieving laugh. "You'd like to see that work out, wouldn't you?"

She yanked her wrist again, but his grip only tightened—not painfully, but enough to let her know he wasn't letting her walk away.

"You think you can balance me with that life?" she asked incredulously. "What happens when the Bratva calls? When they need you to get your hands dirty again? What happens when your enemies start watching me the way they watch you?"

"I'll protect you."

"No, Nikolai. You'll drown me in it."

"I won't," he growled, the desperation in his voice turning raw. "I'll build a wall so high they'll never reach you."

"You're delusional," she said, voice cracking. "You say you love me, but you're dragging me into something that terrifies me. You—"

"I do love you," he cut in, stepping closer. "I love you too much. You think I can just forget how you looked at me? Like I wasn't a monster. Like I was human. Like I mattered."

She looked away, tears now slipping down her cheek.

"Elara…" His voice dropped. "The way you laugh. The way you hold me at night like I'm not broken. You made me believe that there's something more to life than blood and duty. That there's something better. You made me feel like—like there's light in all this darkness."

He paused. And then came the truth she feared.

"So no," he said, firmer now. "I'm not letting you go."

She looked back at him, jaw tight, trembling. "What are you going to do, Nikolai? Lock me in this room until I change my mind?"

"If that's what it takes," he said, voice low and certain, "then yes."

Her eyes widened. "You're serious."

He nodded slowly. "I'd rather you hate me in safety than walk away and end up as collateral in a world that would devour you whole if they thought I didn't care."

She stared at him, heart thudding so violently it hurt. "So you'd take my freedom?"

"I'd take you," he said fiercely. "Because you're mine. And I'm not giving up on us just because you're scared."

She shook her head, eyes brimming. "This isn't love, Nikolai."

"Yes, it is," he said, stepping even closer, his face only inches from hers. "It's love that's selfish. Possessive. Messy. But it's real. And it's all I have."

Elara's lip trembled. Her breathing grew uneven. Part of her wanted to slap him. The other part wanted to collapse into his arms.

But she couldn't deny it—deep down, a sick part of her was just as desperate to stay as he was to keep her.

"I need time," she whispered.

He didn't move.

"Nikolai… please."

He stared at her for a long time, as if trying to see whether that was another lie. But this time, he saw truth in her eyes. Real fear. Real conflict.

He nodded slowly, though he didn't release her wrist.

"I'll give you time," he murmured. "But you're not leaving. Not tonight."

Her eyes closed, her heart screaming against her ribs.

She didn't know how she was going to survive this love.

But walking away from it suddenly felt even harder.