Chapter 43

“My love.”

That was the first thing I heard when I put the phone to my ear—the deep, familiar voice that never failed to freeze my blood. It didn’t matter how softly he said it. It always carried that undertone… the one that reminded me who he really was. The one that made my hands tremble even though he was miles away.

I didn’t respond immediately. My throat tightened, and for a second, I considered hanging up. But I didn’t. Because running had never really been an option with Adrik.

“I’ve missed you,” he added, his voice calm—too calm. That was when I knew he knew something. Or maybe he just wanted to remind me that even when he wasn’t here, I was never really alone. Not with his eyes everywhere.

I swallowed hard, gripping the phone tighter.

“Hi,” I finally said, barely above a whisper.

His chuckle on the other end sent a shiver crawling down my spine. It was low, amused… almost affectionate—but I knew better. That laugh wasn’t love. It was possession wrapped in silk.

“You sound tired,” he said.

I glanced around the room like he could somehow see me. Maybe he could. With Adrik, nothing was ever truly private. “I didn’t sleep well,” I replied.

“Hmm.” A pause. “Nightmares again?”

I didn’t answer. He already knew the truth. He was the nightmare.

“I told you, you sleep better when I’m home,” he continued, tone dipped in false concern. “But don’t worry, moy dorogoy. I’ll be back very soon. I hate being away from you this long.”

My stomach turned. I pressed a hand to my chest to calm my heartbeat, forcing air into my lungs.

“I’m fine,” I murmured.

“No, you’re not,” he said, suddenly sharp. “You’re alone in that big house with nothing but silence and secrets. Tell me, love… what have you been up to while I’ve been gone?”

My heart skipped a beat.

“Nothing. Just reading… feeding Elsa. Walking around the garden sometimes.”

“Hmm. The garden,” he echoed, his tone suddenly unreadable. “That’s a new habit, isn’t it? You never cared for fresh air before.”

Panic scratched at the edge of my chest.

“I just needed space,” I said quietly.

“Adrik…” I whispered, already regretting answering.

He chuckled. “I like when you say my name like that. Soft. Scared. Submissive.”

My lips pressed into a thin line.

“I had a good day,” he went on, completely unfazed. “Productive. Bloody.”

My breath caught in my throat.

“You want to know what I did?” he asked, a cruel lilt in his tone. “I snapped a man’s fingers one by one. He begged. Cried. Promised to talk. But you know me—I hate liars. So I let him choke on his own tongue before splitting his throat.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing my body not to shake.

“He betrayed me,” Adrik said casually, like it was business as usual. “And I don’t forgive betrayal, Joy. Not from anyone. You understand that, don’t you?”

I swallowed hard, voice low. “Yes…”

“Good girl.” He paused, breathing audible. “You know, watching the life drain from his eyes reminded me of you… the first time you looked at me with real fear. Do you remember that?”

I said nothing.

“You should. It was beautiful.” A sigh, almost dreamy. “I wonder if you’ll ever look at me like that again. Or if I’ll have to earn it all over.”

My heart was pounding.

“But enough about me,” he drawled. “How was your day? Feed the rabbit? Walk around the garden pretending I’m not watching?”

I froze.

“I’m joking,” he said after a long pause—but it didn’t sound like a joke. “Or maybe I’m not. Either way, I’ll be home soon, moya lyubov’. And when I return… I want that garden story. Every little detail.”

“Good,” I managed. “Can I go now? I was… just about to shower.”

Silence. The kind that made me feel like I said something wrong.

Then, “You’re not trying to get rid of me, are you, love?”

His voice dropped, and I felt every syllable settle over my skin like ice. I knew I had to say something—something right, or this call would take a darker turn.

“No,” I said quickly. “I just… didn’t expect your call.”

Another silence.

Then, he sighed. “I’ll let you go. But next time, answer like you missed me too. I’ll be watching.”

The line clicked dead before I could say anything else. I didn’t move. Just sat there, the phone still pressed to my ear, wondering how much longer I could keep doing this.

I stared at the dead phone screen, my fingers still curled around it like I couldn’t quite believe the call was over. My heart thudded painfully in my chest, a steady thrum of dread and confusion. He had always been cruel—but lately, the cruelty had begun to sound like affection. And somehow, that was worse.

The garden was still cloaked in that soft, hazy gray that comes just before sunrise. Dew kissed the edges of the grass, and the hem of my robe was already damp, clinging to my skin. I blinked slowly, trying to settle my mind—trying to process that call and the man behind the voice.

I shouldn’t have answered. But I always did. Because not answering meant punishment. Because a part of me always wanted to know where he was—if only to prepare myself.

I pulled my knees to my chest, curling up on the stone bench like a forgotten child. The silence around me didn’t feel peaceful. It felt like the calm before a storm.

He’s coming home soon.

Those words sat like ice in my stomach. His voice lingered in my ears, dripping with fondness and bloodlust.

My eyes scanned the horizon—soft gold bleeding into the blue sky, the world quietly waking up. But inside me, everything felt darker.

I didn’t even realize I had dozed off until the sound of faint footsteps stirred me. My body jolted slightly as I sat upright, blinking sleep from my eyes.

“Ma’am?” a voice said softly.

I turned. One of the younger maids stood a few feet away, wringing her hands nervously. Her eyes were wide, unsure.

“You fell asleep out here,” she added. “Should I… get you something? Tea?”

I opened my mouth, then closed it again. I looked down at my lap, where Elsa had curled up without me noticing.

“No,” I said eventually, voice hoarse. “I’ll come inside soon.”

The maid hesitated, then nodded and scurried off.

I stared at the rising sun.

He’s coming back.

The moment she disappeared back into the house, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. The warmth of the sun crept over my skin, but it didn’t chase away the cold that had settled in my bones—not even close.

Elsa stirred in my lap, her small nose twitching as she shifted and nestled back into the folds of my robe. I stroked her ears absentmindedly, my eyes fixed on the horizon like I could delay time just by watching it hard enough.

I could still hear his voice—so calm, so casual—as he told me how he ended a life today. Just like that. As if he had simply run an errand. As if murder was a part of his routine. Maybe it was. And somehow, that made it worse.

He had even laughed a little when he described the way the man had begged.

“He cried for his wife,” he’d said. “I told him—I know exactly how you feel.”

I squeezed my eyes shut and clenched my jaw.

Every conversation with him left another crack in me. He was so good at pretending it was love, dressing his cruelty in velvet and silk. But I knew better. His love was suffocating—razor blades dipped in honey.

The breeze picked up, tugging my hair back from my face. For a moment, I imagined what it would feel like to just get up and run. Through the trees. Past the gates. Keep running until my legs gave out.

But I couldn’t. Not with the guards. Not with the trackers. Not with him.

So I sat there, quietly falling apart, while the rest of the world began its morning. I didn’t cry—I didn’t want to give him that. But inside, I felt like glass ready to shatter at the slightest touch.

Elsa looked up at me with her beady eyes, innocent and unaware of the chaos wrapped around us.

“I envy you,” I whispered to her.

Because she didn’t understand what it meant when he said I’m coming home soon.

But I did.

And God, it terrified me.

I sat there for a while longer, staring blankly into the distance, Elsa curled up warm and still in my lap. My fingers trembled as I reached for my phone, tucked inside the pocket of my robe. I hesitated, thumb hovering over the screen.

Calling her was always a risk. Adrik could track everything if he wanted to. But today… today I needed to hear her voice. Even if it was for just a few seconds. Even if it meant I’d spend the rest of the day paranoid that he’d find out.

I scrolled to her contact and pressed call.

It rang once.

Twice.

Three times.

“Hello?”

My throat tightened. The sound of her voice unraveled something deep in me—something I had tried so hard to keep stitched together.

“Mama,” I whispered, and suddenly I didn’t feel like a grown woman anymore. I felt small. Frightened. Like the girl who used to crawl into her mother’s bed after a nightmare.

“Oh baby, are you okay?”

No. No, I wasn’t. But I couldn’t say that.

“I’m fine. I just… I wanted to hear your voice,” I lied, voice cracking at the edges.

There was a pause on the other end. “Are you sure you’re safe?” she asked quietly, carefully, as if the wrong question might trigger something unseen.

“I’m surviving.”

The line went quiet again, but I could hear her breathing. It comforted me more than I wanted to admit.

“Joy,” she said softly, “you can’t stay in that place forever.”

“I know,” I said, but we both understood the weight behind those words.

She didn’t push. She never did. Not anymore.

“I think about you every single day,” she continued, her voice thick with unshed tears. “I pray you’ll come home.”

“I want to. I really do.”

“But?”

“But if he finds out I talked to you—”

“I know.” She let out a shaky sigh. “Be careful, baby. Promise me?”

“I promise.”

We didn’t say goodbye. We never did. Saying goodbye made it feel too final.

The call ended and I sat there, holding the phone to my chest like it was the last piece of home I had left.

Elsa shifted again and made a tiny sound, her way of reminding me she was still here. Still real.

I brushed a hand over her fur, eyes burning with unshed tears, and whispered into the silence, “I’m gonna get us out of here.”