Chapter 37

After what felt like an eternity in the scalding water, Adrik finally let me go, though his presence never truly left me. The bath wasn’t meant to cleanse me—it was another form of control, another way to remind me that my body was no longer my own. His hands roamed over my skin with practiced ease, washing away the remnants of our previous encounter, only to replace them with something heavier, something inescapable.

Every touch was deliberate, every motion slow, as if he enjoyed the way my body trembled beneath his hands, the way I flinched but never pulled away. Resistance was pointless. He knew it. I knew it.

By the time he was finished, my muscles were weak, my limbs numb, my mind hazy with exhaustion. I tried to stand, but the moment I attempted to put weight on my legs, they buckled beneath me.

Adrik caught me with ease, his strong arms wrapping around me as if cradling something fragile—something breakable. His breath was warm against my temple as he chuckled, low and dark, clearly amused by my state.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice filled with that unsettling mixture of mockery and possession. “You can’t even stand without me.”

I wanted to argue, to tell him that it wasn’t him I needed, that my body had simply given up, but the words refused to come. My throat felt raw, my voice stolen by everything he had taken from me.

Without another word, he lifted me effortlessly, carrying me out of the bathroom as if I weighed nothing. Water dripped from my skin onto his clothes, but he didn’t seem to care. He held me close, his grip firm, unrelenting.

I lay limp against his chest, too drained to fight, too empty to resist.

And as he carried me through the dimly lit room, I realized something that sent a new wave of cold fear coursing through me.

Adrik carried me like I was something delicate, something easily shattered, but I knew better. He didn’t see me as fragile—he saw me as conquered. His possession. The thought made my stomach twist, but there was no fight left in me, no strength to push against the weight of his control.

The room was cold, the air thick with the scent of him—expensive cologne, whiskey, and something darker. Something that clung to my skin even after the bath, no matter how hard I scrubbed.

He lowered me onto the bed with care that felt more like mockery. The silk sheets were cool against my damp skin, but the moment I tried to move, his hand pressed down on my thigh, keeping me still.

“Rest,” he murmured, brushing a strand of wet hair from my face. His voice was softer now, almost gentle, but I knew better than to believe it.

I turned my face away, refusing to meet his gaze. My body ached in places I didn’t want to acknowledge, my limbs heavy with exhaustion. Sleep called to me, but I couldn’t let myself drift—not when I was trapped in his bed, in his world, under his control.

Adrik’s fingers trailed down my arm, slow, deliberate, before tilting my chin up, forcing me to look at him.

“There she is,” he said, amusement flickering in his dark eyes. “Still trying to fight, even when there’s nothing left to fight with.”

I hated the way he saw through me, the way he peeled back every layer until there was nothing left to hide.

I swallowed hard, my throat tight. “What do you want?” My voice came out hoarse, barely above a whisper.

Adrik’s lips curled into a smirk as he leaned in, his breath warm against my skin. “I already have what I want.”

The weight of his words settled over me, suffocating.

He wasn’t done with me. Not tonight. Not ever.

I clenched my fists beneath the sheets, nails digging into my palms. If I had any strength left, I would have fought. But I didn’t. And he knew it.

Just as the weight of his presence threatened to smother me, Adrik reached beside the bed, retrieving something I hadn’t noticed before. A small, familiar shape—soft, worn, and heartbreakingly out of place in his hands.

Elsa.

My breath caught as he held out the stuffed rabbit, the same one I had clung to for as long as I could remember. It was ridiculous, childish even, but in this moment, the sight of it sent a sharp ache through my chest.

Adrik’s smirk softened, though the amusement in his eyes never faded. “You left her behind,” he murmured, placing the rabbit beside me on the pillow. “I thought you might miss her.”

The cruelest part was that he was right.

I stared at Elsa, my fingers twitching, desperate to reach for her. But I refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing me cling to the last shred of comfort I had left.

Still, the gesture unsettled me more than anything else. He hadn’t needed to do this. He hadn’t needed to remind me that he saw everything, knew everything.

Adrik leaned in, his fingers brushing over Elsa’s tattered ear before trailing up to my cheek. “You look so lost, malyshka,” he whispered, voice almost gentle. “Does this make it better?”

I forced myself to meet his gaze, my voice barely more than a breath. “Nothing will.”

He smiled, but there was something dark in his eyes, something possessive. “Oh, but it will,” he murmured. “In time, you’ll see.”

He pulled the sheets over my trembling body, his touch deceptively tender. As if he was offering me some semblance of warmth, of kindness, when I knew all too well that it was just another game.

Adrik reached for Elsa again, pressing the rabbit against my chest. “Hold her,” he ordered softly, his voice like silk, like poison.

I did. Because refusing him wasn’t an option.

And as the darkness pressed in, as his arm slid possessively around my waist, I clung to Elsa with shaking fingers, wondering if I would ever feel safe again.

As the heavy silence stretched between us, I felt a soft thud against my chin. I blinked, startled, and looked down.

Elsa had flopped onto her side, her tiny embroidered nose squishing awkwardly against my collarbone. One of her worn-out ears flopped over my arm, and for a second, she looked almost… alive.

I didn’t mean to smile. It just happened—small, fleeting, barely there.

Adrik noticed. Of course, he did.

my fingers gently adjusting Elsa so she sat upright against my chest. She immediately flopped forward again, landing face-down with all the grace of a drunken kitten.

A quiet, breathy laugh escaped me before I could stop it.

For a moment, just a moment, the weight pressing on my chest lifted. The darkness receded, replaced by something small and fleeting—but real.

Elsa, my ever-loyal companion, had given me a second of light in a world that felt suffocatingly dark.

For a moment, everything else faded away.

Elsa’s soft fur brushed against my fingertips as I cradled her close, my mind slipping into something lighter, something safer. Without thinking, I began to move her tiny paws, making her wave, then dance clumsily in my lap. A small, breathy laugh escaped me—quiet, but real.

I made her wiggle her ears next, murmuring softly, just like I used to when I was little. “Elsa says she missed me,” I whispered, mostly to myself.

From the corner of my eye, I felt Adrik watching.

His presence was heavy, lingering in the dimly lit room, but for once, he didn’t interrupt. He simply stood there, arms crossed, head tilted slightly as he observed in silence.

I could feel his gaze tracing every movement—how my fingers curled around Elsa, how I hugged her tighter against my chest, how a flicker of something innocent and unguarded passed over my face.

It should have unnerved me.

But right now, in this fleeting moment, I let myself pretend he wasn’t there. That I was somewhere else. Someone else.