My chest tightened as if the very air had turned to stone. I froze, my lips parting slightly as I tried to process why he-why now-would bring up him. Ivan was dead. Gone. And good riddance. Now that I thought of him, I did not feel anything except the strange hollowness that must be humanely grief but not what I thought it was.
What could Judas possibly have to say about him?
"What about Ivan?" I asked cautiously, my voice steadier than I felt. I did not want to provoke him. I knew the consequences of mentioning other man in front of him, dead or alive.
The way his lips curled at the edges told me he noticed my discomfort. He always did.
And then leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the desk. The shift was subtle, but it felt like the entire room tipped in his favour. "Don't you think it's time to start talking about the man you once called a friend?"
My stomach churned and I shifted unconsciously. "He's dead and ashes don't speak."
His eyes glinted coldly. "You're wrong, Ptichka. There's plenty to talk about."
I stiffened, hating how his words crawled under my skin. Judas had a way of drawing things out, of savouring my reactions like a connoisseur with fine wine. When he finally spoke again, his voice was deceptively calm. "Ivan wasn't the man you thought he was."
My throat tightened, but I managed to keep my composure. "I already know. He was a… traitor. I don't need a reminder."
To my surprise, he chuckled softly and that sound that sent shivers down my spine. "Traitor? That's such mild word for what he truly was."
I stared at him and a sense of unease slowly grew with each passing second. My fingers twitched, curling into fists against my lap as I fought the growing instinct to flee. "What are you talking about?"
Judas's gaze turned steely, his voice laced with cold venom. "He was going to sell you. Auction you off like cattle. A prize for the vultures to tear apart. That's all you were to him-a bargaining chip to fatten his pockets."
The words slammed into me like a sledgehammer. I stared at him, the disbelief warring with the undeniable truth in his eyes. Judas didn't lie. He didn't need to. And I somehow believed, because Lucius did mentioned selling me. He'd reduced me to something less than human, like a commodity to be traded and sold.
I couldn't look at him as more shame flooded through me.
"It doesn't matter," I muttered, but the quiver in my voice betrayed me. The images I'd stumbled upon in his office resurfaced-he also had the pictures of young women, naked. He had no right to play innocent when he was just like Lucius and Ivan. The worst part? I couldn't even tell who I hated more in that moment-Lucius, for what he'd planned to do, or Judas, for forcing me to see it.
I was dragged into whatever feud they had.
And it's not like he didn't know. Judas did knew everything from the very beginning though I never had this conversation with him but we didn't had to. We both knew it would make no difference.
Judas's lip curled into something between a sneer and a low growl. "It does, little bird. Men in this world would shred women like you."
Rage and humiliation surged in my chest like a storm I could barely contain. My fists tightened, nails digging into my palms. "And you're any better?" I shot back. "You bought me too! I saw the files. You're no different than him!"
The room seemed to still and the air became suffocating. Judas's expression remained eerily calm, but the lethal glint in his eyes made my blood run cold. Slowly, he rose, his movements deliberate, calculated, like a predator sizing up its prey. And I ahd to held my breath.
Shit.
"Just like him?" he murmured, the soft timbre of his voice more menacing than any shout. "You think I'm like that worm? That pathetic excuse for a man?"
I tried to backpedal, my voice faltered as I clutched the chair rests. "I didn't mean-"
He cut me off with a dark laugh, low and guttural. "Oh, you meant it. You're just too stupid to understand the difference."
He leaned down; gripping the armrest of my chair over my own hands with such force that I thought it might splinter. His proximity was suffocating, his scent intoxicating, primal. His voice dropped to a whisper, deadly and unrelenting.
"Ivan would've sold you to monsters who'd leave you begging for death. I'm not like him. I didn't buy you-I took you. Claimed you. And the difference, Ptichka, is that I don't let anyone touch what's mine."
I didn't know if I should be glad he didn't ask about the files or scared that he didn't ask. Because that would mean he knew.
His words sent a shiver down my spine, a strange mix of fear and something far more dangerous coiled in my stomach.
"You hate me now," he continued, his tone softened almost hypnotic as I stared into his pale blue eyes. "But you'll learn, little bird. You'll learn to thank me. I protect what's mine, and I destroy anyone who dares threaten it."
His hand tightened on the armrest before he straightened, towering over me like a beast surveying its domain and I took a deep breath I didn't know I was holding. His cold, pale gaze held mine captive, rendering me motionless as he reached into his pocket and withdrew his phone. With a few deliberate swipes, he turned the screen toward me.
"Watch," he commanded, his voice a low growl that slithered through the room.
I didn't want to look. Every instinct screamed at me to turn away, to refuse whatever horror he was about to lay bare. But his eyes pinned me in place, daring me to defy him.
The video started. Two men sat in shadowed corners of a room, their faces mostly obscured except for Ivan's unmistakable profile. My stomach churned as his voice filled the room.
"She's worth more than gold," Ivan said as his tone dripped with strangeness I couldn't recognise. Like I didn't even knew the man. "A rare piece like her? Men will line up, throwing millions at the chance to ruin her. The highest bidder gets her, no questions asked. And she's Romanovski's girl, a fucking piece to get under his skin."
My blood turned to ice, my breath catching in my throat as I swallowed hard.
The other man leaned forward, his face shrouded in darkness, but something about him struck a chord of familiarity deep within me. I squinted, my mind racing, trying to piece together fragments of memory. Then it hit me like a freight train.
He was one of them. One of the men from Judas's meeting. Donatello. I hadn't known his name then, but now I knew. Very clearly and I stiffened.
A cold sweat broke out across my skin. I couldn't breathe.
"You remember now, don't you?" Judas's voice cut through the haze like a blade. "That man was ready to pay for you. Eager to outbid the others. And Ivan? He was more than willing to let it happen."
I tried to speak, to deny it, to say anything, but the words died in my throat. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat a deafening roar in my ears.
Judas's lip curled into a sneer as he towered closer. "Look at you. Pale as a ghost. Now you understand." He snatched the phone away, tossing it onto the desk like it disgusted him. "You were a fucking good to that bastard. A game piece to trade, break, and discard. That's what he thought of you."
He leaned down, his hands gripping the chair's armrests again, caging me in. His face was so close I could feel the heat radiating from him, but his eyes were anything but warm. They were glacial, ruthless.
"I didn't let that happen," he growled, his voice rough and primal. "Do you know what I did to him?"
I shook my head knowing what he did to him. He killed him. And send his head to me. Why? Why did he have to be so cruel? My gut twisted in disgust as I remembered that package. I didn't want to re-live those moments. The bile rose in my throat.
The sheer savagery in his words made my stomach twist, but he wasn't done.
"You hate me for bringing you into this world, Ptichka? Fine. Hate me. But don't forget for a second that I'm the only reason you're still breathing. The only reason those men didn't rip you apart."
His hand reached out and grabbed my chin with brutal meticulousness, forcing me to meet his icy gaze. "Don't you ever compare me to that fucking bastard again. Do you understand?"
I nodded shakily, too overwhelmed to do anything else. His grip on my chin tightened momentarily before he let go, stepping back, though his presence still wrapped around me like a storm cloud.
"Why… why now? Why are you telling me this and making me go through that pain again?"
He just stared at me with that obnoxious look in his eyes. I couldn't understand this man. I never would.
My lips wobbled and his eyes caught the moment before meeting my gaze again. "Cause you need to understand some things, little bird. You tried to look for freedom once, look where it got you. I am just reminding you of the consequences if you pull that shit again."
I swallowed the lump in my throat, his words sliced through me like shards of glass. The audacity-the cold, calculated cruelty in his voice-it was too much. My chest tightened, the storm of emotions threatening to drown me as I finally found my voice, shaky but fueled by anger and despair.
"And this is freedom?" My voice cracked under the weight of my emotions. Tears blurred my vision, but I forced myself to hold his gaze, even as my body trembled. "You've trapped me here, Judas. Caged me like some... some possession. You say you saved me, but all you did was trade one prison for another."
His eyes narrowed as the sharpness in them cut into me. He tilted his head slightly, as if amused by my outburst, but the dangerous flicker in his gaze told me I was treading on thin ice.
"You think I don't already know how cruel you are?" I choked out. "Every day, you remind me. Every fucking day, you strip away whatever dignity I have left. And for what? To prove you own me? That I'm nothing without you?"
For a moment, silence hung in the air like a loaded gun. Then Judas laughed, low and guttural, the sound devoid of any real humor. It was the kind of laugh that sent chills crawling up my spine.
"You done?" he mused.
My lips parted, but before I could say anything, he stepped forward, closing the distance between us in one brutal movement. His hand shot out, gripping the back of my neck with a force that made me gasp. He leaned in, his face inches from mine, his breath hot and seething with barely contained rage.
"You think you can run that mouth in front of me, Ptichka?" he growled, voice dropped to a lethal whisper. "You think you can stand there, crying like some helpless little girl, and guilt me into setting you free? Is that it? You think I don't see through you?"
His fingers dug into my skin, and I winced, but I refused to look away.
"You don't get it, do you?" he hissed. "There's no freedom for you. Not now. Not ever. At least, not until I'm alive. The moment you walked into my world, you signed away any chance of escape. And you're lucky-lucky-that it was me who got to you first. Do you even fucking realize what those men would've done to you?"
His grip tightened, his words turning savage, venomous. "They wouldn't have just caged you, Ptichka. They would've broken you. Torn you apart, piece by fucking piece, until there was nothing left but a hollow shell. And you? You would've begged for death before the end. So don't you dare stand there and compare me to them."
I wanted to laugh. He was doing the same.
Tears streamed down my face, but I couldn't stop myself. "And that makes you better?" I shot back, my voice cracking under the weight of my own fury. "You're no saviour, you psycho. You're just another monster. You don't care about me. You can never care about anyone!"
His lips curled into a feral snarl, and the room seemed to grow colder. "Damn right, I don't care about anyone. Because if I did, you'd be fucking dead. Or worse."
He released me suddenly, shoving me back a step and I stumbled back crashing into the edge of the desk. My hand gripped the wooden surface for balance, my chest heaved with rage and despair, but Judas didn't stop. He advanced again, his every step predatory and unapologetically cruel.
"You really don't get it, do you, Ptichka?" he sneered, "Wake the fuck up. This world isn't built for little girls with big mouths and fragile hearts. It's built to swallow people like you whole."
He slammed his palm against the desk beside me, the crack of wood reverberating in the room. I flinched, but he didn't care-he fed on my fear, my defiance, like it was fuel for his fire.
"You're right. I'm a monster," he growled, his face inches from mine. His other hand gripped the chair beside me and hurled it across the room with alarming ease, the crash of it splintering against the wall making my heart leap in my chest. "But I'm the only monster who gives a fuck whether you live or die. Fleeing to fucking Switzerland and starting a life there? He would have paraded your body around like a fucking trophy just to prove a point. Is that what you wanted? Huh?"
His hand darted out again, gripping my jaw with brutal force, tilting my face up so I couldn't look anywhere but at him. His gaze burned with an intensity that made my stomach churn.
"You think I don't care?" he hissed, his voice dripping with venom. "You're fucking right. I don't care about anyone-because caring gets you killed. Love? Trust? Mercy? That's all bullshit. I've seen what it does. I've watched people I cared about get slaughtered because I was stupid enough to believe it mattered."
His grip tightened, and I winced, the tears streaking down my face only enraging him further.
"And you?" he continued, his voice a low, guttural growl. "You're nothing but a liability. A pretty little pawn in a game you don't understand. But now you're my liability. Mine. And I'll burn this whole fucking world to the ground before I let someone else touch what's mine."
The word "mine" hit me like a slap, leaving me breathless and trembling. His hand finally released me, and I staggered back, clutching my face as the sting lingered.
"But let's get one thing straight," he snarled, pacing now like a predator stalking its prey. "Don't you ever fucking think you can guilt me or question why I do what I do. I don't owe you shit. Everything I've done? Every goddamn thing? It's been to keep you alive. And you're standing here, spitting in my face, comparing me to those bastards?"
His voice cracked with fury as he slammed his fist into the wall. The raw, animalistic rage pouring out of him was suffocating, but I couldn't stop myself from pushing further.
"And what about you?" I shot back, my voice trembling but determined. "What's the difference between that and what they wanted?"
His head snapped toward me, his eyes dark and unrelenting.
"The difference, Ptichka," he said, his voice a deadly whisper, "is that I won't let you break. I won't let anyone destroy you. Not even yourself. You belong to me now, and I don't share. Not with anyone."
He leaned in close again, his presence swallowing me whole. "You hate me? Good. Hold on to that hate. Let it keep you warm. Because hate is the only thing that'll keep you alive in my world."
With that, he stepped back, his breathing heavy, his jaw tight as he stared at me like I was the only thing tethering him to this earth. "Now get the fuck out of my sight before I remind you just how monstrous I can be."
I stumbled toward the door, my heart pounding, my mind a mess of fear, fury, and confusion. As I reached the door, his voice rang out again, low and chilling.
"And little bird?" he said, not even looking at me. "Next time you think about running that mouth, remember this, I'll drag you back by that pretty little neck of yours. Bare, broken, crawling, if I have to."