Chapter 11

We ate in silence, as the sounds around us made themselves present—the wood crackling in the fireplace, the distant hoot of an owl, the fine snow still tapping against the window.

When we went upstairs a little later, I still felt an overwhelming cold, but I tried not to show it. Lying down in bed again next to Ilya, I buried myself under two blankets, trying to stop my teeth from chattering.

There was a window on my side of the bed, and I lay on my back, looking at it, watching the white flakes painting the night.

"I had never seen snow before," I whispered, my voice a little hoarse. My throat also felt scratchy.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" I nodded in response, but shivered once more, and he noticed. "Still cold?"

"A little."

Ilya remained silent, hesitating, but I could tell he was making a decision.

"Do you want me to hold you?" My eyes widened in surprise. "My body is warm. It'll help with the cold."

We were in bed, and his offer made me feel a little dizzy. My gaze dropped to Ilya’s broad chest as he turned onto his side, facing me, and the urge to snuggle against him was strong. Not just because I was still freezing, but because it had been so long since anyone had held me like that.

"I won't take advantage of the situation, Alejandra."

I knew he meant it. I barely knew him, but I already trusted him. Ilya was an honorable man.

I turned onto my side, my back to him, struggling a little due to how sore my body was. Without any difficulty, he pulled me close, molding me against his broad frame.

A few minutes later, I tried to ignore the hardness I felt pressing against my lower back and the frustrated grunt he let out, probably regretting this arrangement.

But I wasn’t regretting it. The warmth of Ilya’s strong arms was so comforting that I sighed, closed my eyes, and quickly drifted off to sleep.

All night, my mind was filled with nightmares, each one centered around Ilya’s execution.

In my head, I could see a trial perfectly, where Pavel Kiselev condemned him, and he was led to the gallows. In others, he was beheaded.

I imagined neither of those methods were still in use, but it was the closest my mind could conjure.

But in the worst of them, I heard muffled cries that I knew were my own, silenced by the iron gag they forced onto me. My arms and legs bound, I watched as they beat him, whipped him, wounded him in every way imaginable, making him suffer a slow death he didn’t deserve.

I woke up screaming, sitting up in bed to find myself alone. The snow was still falling outside, but it was already daylight.

A note on Ilya’s pillow told me he had gone to town to buy our things.

It was supposed to be simple—I just had to wait for him. But when I placed a hand on my forehead, I realized I was burning with fever.

Amidst everything, I couldn't stop thinking about the dream, which tangled in my head with a single feverish delusion: I needed to get out of there.

Completely out of it, weakened by fever, panting and dizzy, I got out of bed, stumbling over my own feet.

I needed to get out of there—my mind repeated.

Once. Twice. Three times.

Even if it made no sense, the anguish I felt convinced me it was the only choice. Maybe I would die out in the snow, and that would be a blessing for everyone.

I just needed to leave Ilya, because it was the only way to protect him.

That was all.

***

POV ILYA KRAVTSOV

For a man who was two meters tall by two meters wide, with long hair and a considerable beard, trying not to draw attention was quite complicated. People wouldn't stop staring at me.

Not just because of my size, of course. In the middle of that small town, I was a foreigner, and that wasn’t always welcomed.

The fact that I was buying women's clothes also attracted attention. Pads? Even more. Alejandra hadn’t asked, but... well... she was a woman, right? I had no idea when she might get her period.

For some reason, I grabbed condoms too. It was ridiculous to even think about it, but better safe than sorry. The girl was beautiful, and she had already looked at me with interest more than once. If something happened...

No. Nothing could happen. She had obviously been kept a virgin all this time and needed to stay that way. I wouldn't be the one to corrupt her.

I placed everything I bought on the checkout belt and adjusted my cap, which hid my features and hair as much as possible. I hadn’t taken off my sunglasses either, even inside the store.

I bought only a few things, just the essentials, but mainly a thick pair of pants and a thermal coat for Alejandra. Even three pairs of panties and two bras, trying to guess her size. I hoped I was right because she was tall and slim.

Not so slim that her body wasn’t attractive.

She was very attractive.

But that was beside the point.

I paid for everything, still under the scrutiny of those around me, but I held firm. I headed for the car, which I had already switched out, and got in, driving toward the dacha as quickly as possible.

As soon as I arrived, I parked in front of the back door, struggling to carry the bags inside under the falling snow. It wasn’t exactly a storm, but it was annoying, even though my coat was thick and I didn’t feel too cold.

I left the bags on the kitchen table and found it strange that Alejandra hadn’t appeared. She could be in the bathroom, of course, but the house felt too quiet.

I started looking for her, my heart pounding. There was no way she had decided to run away after everything that had happened.

"Alejandra?" I called her name, completely tense.

Going around to the back, I climbed the stairs to check the second floor, where there was only the bedroom—but it was empty. The bed was still unmade, as if she had simply gotten up and vanished.

The first morning we woke up together, she had immediately made the bed, leaving the motel room spotless. It was strange that she hadn’t done the same here.

I went back downstairs, my adrenaline spiking, searching for the damn girl everywhere until I found the front door unlocked, the key still hanging in the lock.

I knew it could be a mistake, but I hadn’t had the heart to lock her inside. If anything happened, she needed a chance to escape. Still, I had a feeling this wasn’t a desperate escape.

I followed the footprints, which were already starting to fade, but I didn’t have to go far.

The first thing I saw was brown hair spread across the snow-covered ground, though the layer of snow wasn’t too thick. She was still wrapped in the blanket, which was less concerning, but she hadn’t gotten far from the house. She simply hadn’t been able to.

That explained a few things.

I crouched beside her, holding her and feeling her burning skin.

She had a fever and had probably started feeling unwell the night before. I had noticed she looked paler, that the cold seemed to affect her more than expected, but I assumed it was just because she wasn’t used to it.

That wasn’t it. The girl was getting sick.

I brushed some hair away from her face, looking at her purple lips. Taking off my coat, I wrapped it around her over the blanket. Then I lifted her into my arms, carrying her back to the cabin while cursing softly in Russian, not knowing if I was more pissed at her or at myself.

I kicked the door shut, hearing the heavy thud, and climbed the stairs.

I laid her on the bed and had no choice but to remove her clothes, but I was so desperate I didn’t even pay attention. I just wrapped her in more blankets, discarding all the wet garments she had been wearing.