Chapter Seventy Seven.

Chapter Seventy Seven.
Where did he go?
Did he leave for work already?

Xena’s brows pinched slightly as she descended the stairs, her bare feet soft against the cold marble.

She had woken up alone, Viktor’s side of the bed untouched and cold, like he had never even come to sleep. Not that she cared. Not really.

But the soft warmth that rushed to her cheeks… betrayed her.
She hated that.

Get a grip, Xena.
“Stop thinking about him,” she muttered under her breath, scolding herself.

Halfway down, she froze.
A warm, delicious scent wafted up from the kitchen, something buttery, and her stomach did a flip.

She knew who was cooking....

Her eyes lit up and she took the rest of the stairs two at a time, rushing toward the source like a child chasing something familiar in an unfamiliar house.

She reached the kitchen and grinned when her eyes landed on the familiar back of the guy at the counter.

“Hey, Travis..” she said brightly.

The poor guy flinched, nearly dropping the spatula in his hand as he spun around.

“Miss Xena!” he exclaimed, eyes wide. “You frightened me.”

He kept his gaze lowered, not meeting her eyes. His hands fumbled slightly at the edge of the counter.

Xena’s smile faded into something softer. She sighed.

Of course he was still nervous.

Travis had almost lost his job once because of her, because she complimented his food and how much she loved it. She had fought for Travis to stay, and thankfully, he was allowed to work again… though only twice a week now.

She noticed they’d brought in a new full-time chef.

Still… she was glad Travis hadn’t been completely discarded.

“Xena?” a familiar voice called, and she turned to see Alina entering the kitchen, holding a small cloth in her hand.

Xena smiled warmly.

“You should go sit in the dining room,” Alina said kindly, giving her that maternal look. “I’ll bring your breakfast out.”

Xena gave a small nod, tightening her lips into a polite smile. “Alright.”

She turned away and left the kitchen quietly.

Part of her wished she could stay, cook something herself, feel normal for once.

Her fingers itched to chop, to stir, to do something hers.
Maybe… maybe I can ask Viktor if I can cook tonight, she thought as she took her seat at the long dining table.

She really miss cooking...

A few minutes later, her breakfast was placed in front of her.

But her appetite faded as her mind drifted again.

Nana.

That conversation.

The deal.

God. She sigh

She wasn’t done with that nightmare yet.

Marco....

A lunatic. Possessive. Dangerous.
And apparently, she was his.

No, her jaw clenched.
There was no way she was going to belong to someone like that. Not now. Not ever.

The word contract still echoed in her ears.

She need to find a way to terminate this...contract.

But Marco had spoken like he owned her. Her parents had handed her over, just like that and she has no say?

Her chest ached.

She sighed and stared down at her untouched breakfast.

Mom… Dad… what the hell did you get me into?

She pushed the plate away slowly and leaned back in the chair, her eyes distant, her heart heavy in her chest.

♤♤♤

"That bastard’s hiding in the north… I should’ve known." Viktor growled, jaw clenched as he stood in his office, the sleeves of his black shirt rolled to his elbows, veins flexing under taut skin.

The tension in the room was sharp.
Mikhail was seated on the leather armrest, laptop balanced on one knee, fingers flying over the keys, until he stopped, his brow tightening.
“Viktor…” he said slowly, “You might want to see this.”
Viktor turned, gaze narrowing. Mikhail got up, walked over, and turned the screen toward him.

Viktor stared at the intel, his mouth curving into a cold, mirthless chuckle.
“So… the precious someone Yuri was whining about, turns out she’s playing both sides.”
“She’s with Alexei,” Mikhail confirmed grimly. “They’ve been working together from the start.”
“Used Yuri like a pawn,” Viktor muttered, venom in his voice. “So much for loyalty.”
“She was never really his girlfriend,” Mikhail added, voice low. “Looks like it was an infiltration. From the beginning. She does the same type of work Anya does for us… covert ops, seduction, intel.”
Viktor turned away, pacing slowly. His mind ticked like a loaded gun.
“So that’s their game,” he murmured, “Target the weakest in my ranks… gain access, steal from me.”
He chuckled again, colder this time, and dropped into his chair with the smoothness of a man plotting violence.

“Clever,” he said softly, “But fucking stupid.”

“I guess handling one rat isn’t enough,” Viktor muttered, voice low and lethal as he leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled under his chin. “I want every single one of Alexei’s clubs turned to ash. Tonight.”

His gaze snapped to Mikhail.

“You’re in charge,” he said coolly. “If I can’t drag him out of his hole… I’ll burn down the nest. Destroy everything tied to his name.”

A cruel smirk played at Viktor’s lips as Mikhail silently nodded, closed his laptop, and left without a word—because there was no room for questions when Viktor issued orders like that.

Still smirking coldly, Viktor murmured, “One weed at a time.”

His eyes shifted to his phone, and with a flick of his thumb, he dialed. The line barely rang once before a voice answered.

“Yes, Pakhan,” Svetlana’s voice came through respectfully.

“Has she eaten?” he asked without preamble.

“She has, sir. Madam ate not long ago,” came the immediate reply.

“Good. Give her anything she asks for. Whatever she wants,” he said, voice dipped in a possessive undertone, “But make damn sure she doesn’t step outside. Understood?”

“Understood, Pakhan.”

The call ended with a soft click.

Viktor set the phone down and turned toward the floor-to-ceiling window, watching the world move beneath him, people unaware of the storm that was coming.

His lips curved into a slow, obsessive smile.

“Xena..” he whispered.