Alia's sharp insults and the mocking trail of her fingers on his chest finally woke the sleeping volcano inside Nikola. The word "coward" made his eyes blaze with a lethal, icy fire.Just as Alia turned to walk away with a triumphant smirk, Nikola's hand shot out like a viper, locking around her wrist. Before she could react, he slammed her back against the cold marble pillar.
The scent of tobacco and his hot breath hit her face. He pinned her there, his left hand braced against the pillar right below her throat, while his right hand gripped her chin firmly, forcing her to look at him. They were so close that their heartbeats seemed to sync.
Nikola spoke in a low, terrifyingly calm voice:
"You are making a grave mistake, Alia. Just because a tiger sits quietly before its prey doesn't mean it isn't hungry. It means it is waiting for the perfect moment to snap the neck."
He leaned in even closer, his lips inches from her ear. The scent of her perfume mingled with the smoke of his cigar, creating a suffocatingly tense atmosphere.
"I am no coward. I am the author of this story. I could tell Victor about your little drama with Mikhail in a heartbeat. Do you know why I don't? Because I want to see how far you can go. You might be the director, but I own this theater."
Alia saw no lust in his eyes, only raw, primal power. Nikola brought his lips agonizingly close to hers, stopping just before contact, merely to prove he had absolute control over her.
He smirked and whispered:
"Next time you insult me, remember—I won't trap you in a web of 'love' like Victor. I will simply erase you."When Nikola pinned Alia against the pillar, the distance between them evaporated completely. The dragon tattoo on his bare chest felt like searing heat against her skin. He wasn't just demonstrating physical strength; he was crushing her psychological defenses.Nikola held Alia's chin firmly, forcing her to lock eyes with him. His icy blue gaze burned with the intensity of a predator who had finally caught its prey. Alia's CIA training had taught her how to stay calm, but Nikola's overwhelming proximity was unraveling her every calculation.
He leaned into the crook of her neck, his voice a low, vibrating growl:
"You thought I would just watch? I am the darkness in this house, far more terrifying than Victor's light. You made Victor go mad, but do not try to provoke me, Alia. Because when I reach out, I don't just take the body I take the soul."
Alia's breathing quickened. She realized then that Nikola was far more dangerous than Victor. Nikola let his lips brush against the shell of her ear as he whispered:
"Go now. Go tend to your 'fake child.' But remember, my eyes are on you twenty-four hours a day."
With a sudden movement, Nikola released her and sank back into his chair, taking another long drag from his cigar as if nothing had happened. He instantly transformed back into the calm, beautiful prince. Nikola's cold intensity and his razor-sharp words left a massive crack in Alia's confidence. She realized that while Victor could be manipulated, Nikola was a riddle she wasn't prepared to solve.As Nikola released her and went back to his cigar with total indifference, Alia stood frozen for a few seconds. Her heart was racing, and the phantom heat of his touch still felt like it was searing her skin.
Regaining her composure, Alia took a step back. She straightened her sleeves, glared at Nikola one last time, and muttered under her breath:
"Crazy... You are absolutely insane, Nikola!"
Her voice held more shock than fear. She didn't want to stay there for another second. She almost ran down the corridor toward her room, feeling as though every shadow in the mansion was reaching out to grab her.
Nikola watched her retreating figure and let out a faint, twisted smirk. He thought to himself "Crazy? Yes, Alia, everyone in this family is crazy. Some for power, some for love, and me... I'm just crazy to see how this destruction ends."
Alia burst into her room and slammed the door shut. Mikhail was already there, waiting. Seeing her breathless and shaken, he rushed toward her.Alia's sudden confession flipped the entire narrative. While Mikhail was focused on the mission, Alia's words hit him like a physical blowAlia walked over to the window. Outside, the morning light was as hazy as the smoke from Nikola's cigar. Without looking at Mikhail, she spoke in a calm, hollow voice:
"It's no use, Mikhail. You should leave this place. Save yourself."
Mikhail was stunned. He whispered, "Alia, what are you talking about? Our mission is almost over! Victor is broken, his family is in ruins—"
Alia cut him off and turned around. Her eyes were no longer those of a cunning agent; they were filled with exhaustion. She sighed and said:
"What you call a mission, I gave up a long time ago. I left the CIA years ago. I didn't come here to fight for any country; I came to settle my own personal scores. But now, I'm tired. Nikola knows everything, and Victor... Victor's madness is consuming me too."
Mikhail stepped back, unable to believe his long-time partner had kept such a massive secret. Alia continued:
"I don't want to live as a double agent anymore. I don't belong to the CIA, and I don't belong to this Mafia family. I just want my freedom."When Mikhail heard that Alia had quit the CIA long ago and was now seeking freedom, a cruel coldness settled in his eyes. Mikhail is not a man of emotion; he is a pure professional assassin and operative.Mikhail stepped back, his hand instinctively reaching for the sharp surgical blade in his pocket. He spoke in a chillingly calm voice:
"You didn't just betray the CIA, Alia; you abandoned me in the middle of a war zone. I staked my life on this mission, trusting you. If you've left the CIA, you are nothing more than a 'liability' to us now."
Just as Alia thought Mikhail might look for an escape route, he did the unthinkable. He didn't move toward her; he headed straight for the door. But before leaving, he delivered a brutal truth:
"I won't run like a coward, Alia. And I never forgive traitors. Victor is only blind because he loves you more than his life. But when he finds out his beloved is a liar and there is no child there will be no difference between your freedom and your death."
Mikhail walked out and slammed the door. He didn't just leave her alone; he started walking directly toward Victor's study. He decided that instead of letting Alia fail quietly, he would hand her over to Victor and strike a new deal to secure his own safe exit.Mikhail burst into Victor's study, his face contorted with malice. He was ready to burn everything down. But while he was preparing to sell her out, Alia was doing something far more calculated.In her room, Alia didn't panic. She didn't pack a bag. Instead, she walked to the wardrobe and pulled out a blood-red silk nightie. The fabric was thin, flowing like a river of wine against her skin. She let her hair fall in messy, dark waves over her shoulders and sat on the edge of the bed, crossing her legs. She picked up a vintage book and began to read, her face a mask of absolute serenity.
Meanwhile, at the study, Mikhail was shouting:
"Victor! Wake up! You're being played! There is no baby! Alia is a liar she was CIA, and she's been poisoning your mind, not the other way around!"
Victor stood by the window, swirling a glass of dark amber scotch. He didn't look shocked. He didn't even look angry. He slowly turned around, his eyes as cold as a tombstone.
"Do you think I'm an idiot, Mikhail?" Victor asked, his voice a low, terrifying whisper. "Do you think I don't have microphones in every inch of this palace? I heard your conversation. I heard her say she quit the CIA. I heard my brother Nikola try to claim her."
Mikhail froze. The blood drained from his face.
"Then... why are you standing here?" Mikhail stammered.
Victor walked over and pressed the cold barrel of a pistol against Mikhail's chin.
"Because I wanted to see who would break first. You came here to save your skin by betraying her. That makes you useless to me."
BANG.
Victor didn't kill him he shot Mikhail in the kneecap. As the doctor collapsed, screaming, Victor adjusted his tie and walked toward the door.
"She is waiting for me in red," Victor muttered, a dark, twisted smile spreading across his face. "She knows that tonight, either I kill her, or I make her mine forever. There is no middle ground anymore."The heavy oak door slammed against the wall with a deafening bang, the echo vibrating through the silent room. Victor stood in the doorway, chest heaving, his shadow stretching long and jagged across the floor. He looked like a man possessed—shirt collar torn, knuckles bruised, and eyes wild with a mixture of betrayal and agonizing desire.Alia didn't jump. She didn't even flinch. She remained seated on the velvet armchair, the blood-red silk of her nightie shimmering under the dim amber glow of the bedside lamp. The color was so vibrant it made her skin look like polished marble. She slowly turned a page of her book, the soft rustle of paper the only sound in the room.
Victor stepped inside, the smell of gunpowder and expensive scotch clinging to him like a second skin. He pointed his pistol at her, his hand trembling not from fear, but from the sheer effort of not pulling the trigger.
"Mikhail is downstairs bleeding out," Victor growled, his voice cracking. "He told me everything, Alia. The CIA. The fake pregnancy. The lies. He said you were the one pulling the strings."
Alia finally closed the book. She looked up, her eyes dark and hauntingly beautiful. She didn't offer a denial. Instead, she stood up, the silk nightie clinging to her curves, and walked toward him directly into the path of the gun.
"And you believed a man who was begging for his life?" she whispered, her voice like velvet. She stopped when the cold barrel of the pistol pressed firmly against her sternum. "If you think I am a ghost sent to destroy you, then pull the trigger, Victor. End the 'madness' you love so much."
Victor's breath hitched. He looked at her the woman who had turned his world into a battlefield and felt his resolve crumbling. Behind him, in the darkened hallway, a floorboard creaked. Nikola was there, watching from the shadows, his hand on the hilt of his sword, waiting to see if his brother would finally break.