Chapter 51: Chapter Fifty One.

Viktor’s eyes flicked toward Xena between stretches of the road, his sharp gaze catching her reflection in the window. She was silent—too silent. Her cheek rested against the glass, eyes distant, lost somewhere he couldn’t reach. 

The tension in his chest coiled tighter, his hands flexing on the steering wheel until his knuckles whitened. He hated this coldness from her. It gnawed at him, an ache he didn’t know how to soothe. 

Clearing his throat, he broke the silence, his voice low but edged with a strange, uncertain softness. “Ahem… So, do you like the phone?” 

Xena didn’t move, didn’t blink. She sat frozen in her own storm, her silence sharp and deliberate. 

Viktor’s jaw ticked, his patience fraying. “Stop ignoring me.” he gritted out, his voice darkening with warning. 

With a slow sigh, Xena finally turned her head, her eyes meeting his. They were calm—but beneath that calm, a fire smoldered. 

“What’s the point of liking it.” she said, her voice steady but cold, “if I can’t use it to call my Nana? Or anyone that actually matters to me?” 

Her words pierced through the small bridge he had tried to build. 

Viktor’s grip on the wheel tightened further, the leather creaking beneath his palm. His lips pressed into a hard line before he replied, his tone clipped and unrepentant. “Because I don’t trust you enough to call anyone. You’d try to run.” 

His eyes flicked toward her, sharp and possessive. “I gave you that phone so you wouldn’t get bored. So you’d have something to occupy yourself with.” 

Xena’s lips curled slightly—not in amusement, but in scorn. “Bored?” she repeated, her voice bitter with disbelief. “You think a shiny toy will make me forget I’m a prisoner?” 

Her eyes flashed, sharp and accusing. “Let me make something clear, *Don*…” She spat the title like it tasted vile on her tongue. “I’m very sure *any* girl in my position would be thinking the same thing—” She leaned slightly toward him, her glare burning into his profile. “*Running away.*” 

The air between them thickened, charged with unspoken battles. 

Viktor’s grip on the wheel was so tight now that his veins strained against his skin. The engine’s low purr was the only sound, but inside him, everything was roaring—jealousy, possessiveness, and something even darker he refused to name. 

“Of course you’d run.” he said, his voice cold but laced with something deeper. “It’s what you do. You run from me… from *us.*” 

His jaw worked, teeth grinding together. “But no matter how fast you think you are, printsessa…” He flicked his eyes to her again, the corner of his mouth curling into something dark and menacing. “You’ll never outrun *me.*” 

Xena’s hands curled into fists on her lap, her nails pressing crescents into her palms. She hated the way his words sent a chill and heat through her at the same time. Hated the trap he made of her world—one where even escape felt like a losing game. 

But her voice stayed steady. “You can keep me here, Viktor… but you can’t make me stay *willingly.*” 

Viktor’s smirk deepened, his knuckles finally relaxing on the wheel, but his eyes—his eyes were pure fire. 

“Who said anything about willing, little fire?” he murmured darkly. “You’re already *mine.*” 

The car sped forward, but between them, the collision had already begun.

♧♧♧

“The mall?” Xena’s brows lifted in surprise, her eyes scanning the large glass structure towering above them.

Viktor approached her, his hands in his pockets, eyes never leaving her face. “You don’t like it?” His tone was casual, but a hint of something uncertain laced his words.

Xena folded her arms, tilting her head slightly. “Why are we here?”

Viktor’s lips twitched, a smirk playing at the corner. “Don’t all girls love shopping?”

Xena’s eyes narrowed, and she let out a soft sigh. *This man is impossible.* Shaking her head lightly, she turned on her heels and started toward the entrance without waiting for him. Viktor followed closely behind, his long strides easily keeping pace with hers.

The cool air of the mall greeted them as they stepped inside. The polished floors gleamed under the bright lights, and the chatter of shoppers filled the air.

Xena’s gaze wandered over the stores until something caught her eye—a large digital screen flashing movie trailers. Her steps faltered, and a flicker of excitement sparked within her.

*Is that a cinema?*

A small smile tugged at her lips, and without a word, she veered toward the elevator, her curiosity pulling her forward.

But before she could reach it, a firm grip closed around her arm. “Where are you going?” Viktor’s voice was low, his usual hoarseness laced with warning.

Xena blinked up at him. “To the cinema.” she replied simply, nodding toward the screen advertising the latest films.

Viktor’s eyes flicked to the board, then back to her face, searching. “Don’t run off like that.” he said, his tone firm. His hand slid down to capture hers, fingers lacing possessively through hers. “We go together.”

Xena felt the heat of his palm against hers, and her heart did an uncomfortable flip. She didn’t argue as they stepped into the elevator, side by side.

The mirrored walls reflected their image—his towering form, her smaller frame, and his hand still gripping hers as if she might vanish.

The doors opened to the cinema floor, bustling with people. Xena, her curiosity taking the lead again, pulled her toward the ticket counter.

Viktor followed, his sharp eyes sweeping over everything, his presence both protective and territorial.

At the booth, a young man behind the glass greeted her. He was handsome, with tousled brown hair and an easy smile that faltered the moment his eyes landed on Xena.

“Hi.” Xena greeted politely.

The man’s expression shifted—his eyes widened slightly, and he froze, clearly caught off guard. Then, realizing himself, he fumbled with his words. “H—Hi! I mean, hello! How can I help me—uh—help you?” he stammered, his cheeks burning with a faint blush.

Xena’s brow arched slightly at his flustered reaction, but she kept her voice steady.

“Two tickets for that movie.” she said, pointing toward the board showcasing a film that had piqued her interest.

The man scrambled, tapping hurriedly on his computer while sneaking side-glances at her. “R-right! That’ll be... 952 rubles.” he announced, his voice cracking slightly.

Xena’s smile faltered. Her heart sank as realization hit—she had no money. She hadn’t even thought about it.

“Ah... I...” She hesitated, awkwardness flooding her. “I forgot to bring any money.” she admitted, shifting uncomfortably. She was already turning slightly to glance behind her, intending to call Viktor—

But before she could, a familiar warmth enveloped her from behind. Strong arms snaked around her waist, pulling her into a firm, possessive hold. She felt his breath at her neck, hot and slow, before his lips pressed a series of soft, slow kisses against her skin.

Her body tensed, and a gasp escaped her lips at the sudden contact. The heat of him, the power in his touch—it made her pulse skip and her skin flush.

Viktor’s voice came, low and husky against her ear, roughened with something dangerously close to amusement. “Baby.” he drawled, his tone dripping with possession, “you didn’t forget. I have it.”

With one hand still holding her close, he extended the other forward, flashing a sleek black card between his fingers.

Xena, flustered and acutely aware of his body pressed against hers, reached out with a shaky hand and took the card from his fingers.

The young man behind the counter blinked rapidly, his previous fluster vanishing into an awkward stiffness.

“O-oh! Right. I’ll—uh—process that.” he stammered, clearly thrown off by the sudden display.

Xena’s cheeks burned as she passed the card over, her pulse racing from more than just embarrassment.

Viktor’s arms remained where they were, holding her against his chest like a silent declaration. His lips brushed her ear one last time before pulling back just slightly, his voice low and only for her.

“You should know by now, printsessa.” he murmured, “when you’re with me... you’ll never want for anything.”

But beneath the smoothness of his voice, there was an unspoken edge—because what he gave, he owned. And what he owned... he never let go.