90●DMITRI KIREEV (POV)

90●DMITRI KIREEV (POV)

DMITRI KIREEV

I see the confusion spread across Viktor’s eyes the moment he processes what I said. He steps back, blinking a few times, like he’s reorganizing everything he’s believed for years.

“How so, completely different?” His hands curl into fists.

I step away, running a hand over my face, ignoring the question. I shouldn’t have said that. I shouldn’t reveal more than necessary just because he decided to provoke me.

“Answer me,” he demands, his tone rising.

“It’s none of your business.

He laughs mockingly.

“None of my business? You just implied that the promise wasn’t mine.”

“Because it wasn’t,” I shot back, turning to face him again. “You made that up in your head.”

He takes a step toward me, frowning.

“I grew up hearing it, Dmitri.”

“You grew up hearing what you wanted to hear,” I cut in. “Your name was never mentioned by itself.”

Viktor steps back again, running his hands through his blond hair. He growls impatiently, letting all his anger pour out.

The silence breaks something between us.

“It was said that she was ours,” Viktor growls through clenched teeth.

“Well, look at that — he finally started thinking with the right head.” I taunt, letting a crooked smile slip.

That’s enough to strip away whatever control he had left. Viktor has always been impulsive, and now he’s obviously no different.

Viktor lunges forward and shoves me hard. I don’t move back an inch. I raise my right hand, grabbing the back of his neck in the same motion and pulling him back, forcing him to hold my gaze.

“Careful,” I growl low. “You’re not in some Las Vegas nightclub — we’re in a house, we’re just brothers.”

He tries to break free, but I tighten my grip. Not to hurt him — I would never hurt him. Viktor is my brother, and nothing can change that.

“You’re funny, Dmitri. From the moment Harper set foot in the Las Vegas mansion, you surrounded her, made insinuations,” he fires back, his breath heavy against my face. “And you were the first to make a move, to take her to bed.”

“I didn’t make a move. It just happened, and I’m not bragging about it,” I shoot back.

His jaw locks.

“She moaned for me too,” he spits, like he wants to force some reaction out of me — one I don’t even recognize myself.

And he does.

A suffocating sensation takes over my body without warning. It spreads through my chest, climbs up my throat, squeezes my lungs. My heart pounds too hard, too fast, like it’s trying to break something inside me.

I hate this.

I hate not recognizing what I’m feeling.

I’ve never been a man who shares. I’ve never been a man who argues about feelings. I act. I solve things, eliminate whatever threatens me — simple.

But this… this isn’t an enemy I can break with my hands.

The image of her with him cuts through my mind before I can stop it. The cabin. The isolation.

My fist clenches on its own.

“Shut the fuck up, Viktor. Don’t make the hatred I’m feeling any worse — everything has always been a competition to you.”

I release the back of his neck and step away, running a hand over my chin.

“You think all this shit doesn’t provoke me?” I growl as I walk toward the window, watching the darkness blend with the snowflakes.

“It does,” he replies, flashing a shameless smile. “Because you can’t stand not being the only one.”

I bite the inside of my cheek and tense my jaw, because the bastard is right — I can’t stand it. I never have. That’s why I’ve never had a woman who meant anything serious. Always, always, my only goal was to be with Harper, even if it meant fighting my own demons.

I can’t stand imagining another mouth touching where I touched. Another body holding what I marked. I can’t stand the idea of sharing something that, for the first time, I wanted completely — every part of her body, every moan — and I know, I know that Harper was entirely mine.

And that’s what makes me even angrier.

“You took her there knowing exactly that it would be the last place Alexander and I would look,” I say, my voice lower now. “You knew no one interferes with that cabin.”

His smile fades a little.

“I knew she’d be safe there.”

“Safe?” I laugh without humor. “Or away from me?”

He holds my gaze when I meet his.

“You really think my desire for her started because I saw the mark you left?” he shoots back. “You think touching her, kissing her, feeling her was about competing with you, brother?”

“I’m sure,” I retort.

He exhales through his nose, impatient.

“At first, maybe it was,” he admits. “But Harper came to me the day she ran from Phillip at the airport.”

My body stiffens.

He continues.

“She showed up at the nightclub. When she landed in Las Vegas, she ran from Phillip. She walked into the club like it was nothing — I’d recognize that red hair anywhere. She showed the family necklace to the security guard, who immediately informed me over the radio.”

I didn’t know that.

The irritation grows into something that isn’t just jealousy now. It’s frustration over missing information. I only knew she had run away, but my desire to see her was stronger than anything.

“I was the one who should’ve gone to get her, and you know it,” he says, shrugging. “But I got tied up at the nightclub that day and decided to ignore it.”

He walks over to the armchair and sits down, crossing one leg and resting his arm on his knee. He slowly turns the ring with the family crest on his finger.

That gesture irritates me more than his words; he has the same habit as Alexander.

“I used to visit her with Alexander,” he continues, far too casually. “For a few years.”

My gaze narrows.

“Up to a point,” he adds. “Then I stopped.”

“Why?” I ask, already knowing I’m not going to like the answer.

“Because she couldn’t leave that place,” he replies. “She couldn’t be with me the way I wanted her to be.”

The silence weighs heavier than his words. I never imagined they went there together. I suspected Alexander always stayed close to know how things were progressing with Harper, and sometimes went along with her parents. But that Viktor went too — that’s new.

“You didn’t know that, did you?” he asks.

I don’t answer; my silence is already the response he needs

“Oh, right, I forgot — you were too busy becoming the perfect enforcer.”

My jaw locks.

“While you were learning to break bones and rip out confessions, I was there,” he continues. “Watching her grow, watching her change.”

“But you gave up,” I shot back.

“I stepped away,” he corrects. “Because I wanted her in a way I couldn’t have her back then.”

The sentence hits me differently.

“And now you can?” I ask.

He tilts his head slightly. “She’s not locked in a boarding school anymore.”

He stands up slowly, staring at me and flashing that cynical smile only he has. His calmness irritates me more than any provocation.

“And now, brother… we’re going to have to share the girl we like,” he says, like he’s talking business. “Because I won’t be foolish enough to ask her to choose between us. That would be selfish. So every time you mark her… I’ll be marking her in another way.”

He winks.

Claps a hand on my shoulder.

And starts walking toward the door.

I don’t think.

My fist slams into the table before I even register the outburst. The wood cracks under the impact, the sound echoing through the office. Pain shoots up my arm, but it isn’t enough.

“Share?” I growl.

He stops at the door but doesn’t turn around.

“You talk like I’d accept that.”

Viktor lets out a rough laugh.

“If you don’t accept it, you’ll never touch her again.” He walks out, closing the door behind him.

I stay there, breathing hard, blood running down my knuckles as I stare at the splintered wood.

Sharing is not an option — especially not with Viktor.