Chapter 54: Chapter Fifty Four

Xena woke up to the dull ache in her body, her head resting uncomfortably against the side of the couch. Blinking groggily, she pushed herself up, rubbing her eyes as the memories of earlier came rushing back—her argument with Viktor, the way he had stormed out, leaving her alone with her tears.

She exhaled sharply, looking around the dimly lit room. The bed was untouched, and Viktor was nowhere to be seen. Her gaze flickered to the large window, where the dark sky stretched endlessly.

*How long have I been asleep?* she wondered, pressing a hand to her forehead.

A sudden knock at the door startled her. She sat up straighter, her pulse quickening slightly. A second knock followed.

"Come in," she said, her voice hoarse from sleep.

The door creaked open, and Zoya stepped inside, her face laced with worry. She hesitated before speaking.

"Are you okay, Xena?"

Xena forced a small nod.

Zoya sighed, her concern evident. "Dinner is ready."

Another nod from Xena, accompanied by a quiet, "Thank you."

Zoya gave her a small smile before turning and walking out, leaving Xena alone once again.

Dragging herself off the floor, Xena headed into the bathroom. She turned on the faucet, splashing cold water on her face, hoping to shake off the heaviness that clung to her. As the water dripped down her skin, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were swollen, her face pale.

She felt like a stranger in her own body.

**Meanwhile…**

In his dimly lit office, Viktor sat behind his desk, a glass of whiskey clutched tightly in his hand. His grip was so firm that his knuckles had turned white, his jaw clenched as he stared at the amber liquid swirling inside.

The weight of Xena’s words still echoed in his mind, poisoning his thoughts.

*I don’t want to be a part of your life… I just want to go home.*

He let out a low, bitter chuckle, lifting the glass to his lips and downing the rest of the whiskey in one go. The burn did nothing to soothe the fury coiling inside him.

Just then, the door to his office swung open, and Mikhail stepped inside, his sharp gaze scanning Viktor’s stiff posture.

“I received your message.” Mikhail said, his brows knitting together in confusion as he observed the tension rolling off his boss. “What the hell is going on?”

Viktor remained silent for a long moment, his fingers tightening around the empty glass. Then, finally, he looked up, his dark eyes flashing with something dangerous.

“Xena,” he murmured, his voice rough with unspoken emotions. “She thinks she can leave me.”

Mikhail exhaled heavily, already understanding where this was going.

Viktor leaned back in his chair, his lips curling into a smirk—one that held no warmth.

“She’ll learn soon enough.” he muttered, pouring himself another drink. “I don’t let go of what’s mine.”

Mikhail ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in his expression as he watched Viktor prepare to leave.

"Okay, I know you're pissed." Mikhail said, his tone edged with warning. "But whatever you do, don't hurt her."

Viktor let out a dark chuckle, his fingers tightening around the glass before setting it down with a sharp clink. He turned to face Mikhail, eyes cold and unreadable.

"Hurt her?" he mused, rolling the words on his tongue like a promise. "That's the last thing I want to do."

Mikhail wasn’t convinced, but before he could push further, Viktor spoke again.

"First, I need to find out how Marco is tied to her." His voice was sharp, calculating. He grabbed his coat, slipping it on in one fluid motion. "Get the jet ready. We’re leaving for Italy."

Mikhail sighed but didn't argue. He simply nodded before following Viktor out.

**At the Airport…**

The roar of engines filled the air as a sleek private jet landed smoothly on the tarmac. The moment the doors opened, a wave of armed guards stepped out, their movements precise, disciplined.

And then, finally, Marco emerged.

A slow smirk curled on his lips as he took a deep breath, savoring the air of a land he once ruled with an iron grip. His sharp gaze flickered over the waiting convoy, his fingers adjusting the cuffs of his designer suit.

"Mexico took something from me," he murmured, stepping down the stairs with effortless confidence. "I want it back."

**Back at Viktor's Mansion...**

Xena sat at the long dining table, slowly eating her meal. The mansion was unusually quiet, and for a while now, she hadn't seen Viktor. Not that she wanted to see him—God, no. If anything, she felt relieved. At least he wasn’t here, watching her like a predator while she ate, making her skin crawl under his intense gaze.

But still… something about his absence gnawed at her.

She had gotten used to his looming presence, the way his eyes followed her every move as if she might disappear the second he looked away. And now, without that suffocating attention, an odd sense of curiosity stirred inside her.

Where was he?

The thought lingered as she absentmindedly pushed her food around the plate. She considered asking Zoya or Alina, but just as quickly dismissed the idea. What good would that do? It wasn’t like she cared.

With a quiet sigh, Xena finished her meal and stood up. She wasn’t going to let her thoughts wander down pointless roads. Whatever Viktor was doing, wherever he was—it wasn’t her concern.

She made her way back to the bedroom, slipping under the covers and forcing herself to block out the nagging questions in her head.

Sleep came easily, but little did she know, the storm was only beginning.

**Late Hour**

Viktor arrived at the mansion, his presence casting a shadow over the grand halls as he moved with quiet authority. His long strides carried him up the stairs, past the dimly lit corridors, straight to his room.

The door creaked softly as he pushed it open, stepping into the silent space. His gaze immediately landed on the bed, where his little fire lay curled up, lost in slumber.

**Xena**.

Her breathing was steady, her face relaxed in the dim glow of the moonlight filtering through the curtains. Strands of hair had fallen across her cheek, her pink lips slightly parted, tempting, taunting.

Viktor clenched his jaw, his fingers twitching at his sides as he stepped closer, drawn to her despite himself. He crouched down, his face mere inches from hers, watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest.

*"Even when you sleep, you are a temptress."* he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, he allowed himself the indulgence of simply looking at her. Then, his expression darkened, his possessive nature roaring back to life.

Straightening, he exhaled sharply, his hands balling into fists.

*"There is no escape from me, Xena,"* he vowed under his breath, his voice laced with unwavering determination.

With that, he turned on his heel and strode out of the room, leaving her to her peaceful slumber—blissfully unaware of the storm brewing within him.