The air inside the helicopter was suffocating. Not because of the height but because of him-his presence, his bloodied hands, and the rage that still lingered in his gaze, like an inferno barely subdued. I couldn't stop shaking, my chest heaving as I tried to make sense of the massacre I had just witnessed.
Never… never I expected to witness such cruelty. How could a man… a human be so inhumane?
His grip on me wasn't harsh, but it was intoxicating. A leash, pulling me under and keeping me still.
The flames from the mansion below painted his sharp features in flickering hues of orange and red. At first, he didn't look at me; his attention was solely focused on the destruction he'd wrought. But when he finally turned, his eyes softened-a contradiction to the monster I had just seen.
I crumbled. The tears I'd held back broke free, spilling down my cheeks as sobs wracked my body. I couldn't hold it together anymore, not after seeing the blood, the bodies, and the unrelenting fury in him.
He pulled me closer, cupping my face in his hands. They were still stained with blood, the coppery scent mixing with the faint trace of his cologne. I flinched, but he didn't let go. His thumbs brushed against my cheeks, wiping away the tears. And probably smearing blood.
"Don't cry, ptichka," he murmured and with uncharacteristically gentleness.
I shook my head. "You… you killed them. All of them. I don't… I don't understand why-"
"Do you want to see me dead, ptichka?" His words silenced me and I swallowed hard looking intently into his pale blue orbs. He leaned, his lips quivered as he swallowed hard. He was still searing with rage, but he was controlling it. "Because that's what would've happened. Vlad wouldn't stop until he had my head on a platter."
I stared at him as my tears blurred his face. "But this? All of this… It's too much. It's too-"
"I'd die if that's what you want. But not before I end what the Morozovs started." His hands dropped from my face, but he didn't move away. His gaze held mine. "You have no idea how far they'd go to destroy me."
I blinked.
He was a puzzle.
And I didn't know if I could ever understand him.
But today, I saw something fiery in his eyes.
He was ready to unleash his anger.
He would've have burned in that fire if that guaranteed Vlad's head.
The helicopter landed with a soft jolt, breaking the moment. He stood, pulling me up with him and his hand never left mine as he guided me to the airdrop. The cool night air hit me, but it did little to clear the fog in my head.
My eyes landed on the jet on the side. And my insides churned. This wasn't the island. We were still in Moscow. He didn't speak.
Where was he taking me?
I wanted to ask, but the words tangled in my throat.
This wasn't just escape. It felt planned. Precisely woven plan. He knew this would happen. He was ready for this.
The fog in my head grew thicker. Was this protection? Punishment? No, I told myself. He wasn't punishing me. It was an ownership.
The thought made my stomach twist.
He wasn't wrong, was he? The Morozovs wanted him dead. They wanted power. They wanted blood. He took it from them first.
They would've destroyed him. And if he fell, I'd fall too. I had seen it with my own eyes. Lucius wanted his blood as much as he wanted his.
I hated how it made sense. How his darkness, his chaos, felt like the only thing keeping me safe.
My heart pounded as he guided me up the stairs. I wanted to pull away. I didn't. This wasn't freedom. It was something else. Something darker. And yet, I followed him.
"Where… where are we going?" I asked when he pulled me with him to the stairs. Some guards bowed and some fancy dressed hostesses.
"Italy," he replied.
"Italy?" I stumbled as he pulled me to the cabin in the back. "But… the mansion-what about-"
"It's gone," he turned to face me and unbuttoned the buttons of his blazer before taking it off and throwing it on the seat. "The island has been bombed."
My breath hitched and I looked at him wide-eyed. "What?... How?"
He sighed, and then loosened his tie. I swallowed hard at how raw and intimidating he looked. I took a step back. He stepped forward. "I couldn't leave you there today," he muttered. "I knew Vlad was up to something when he ignored my warnings. I had to act."
My mind raced as I struggled to keep up. "Chester…" I whispered, thinking of the small dog I'd taken in just two days ago.
"He's safe," he assured me. "Everyone is. They flew back to Moscow just after us."
Relief flooded me, but it was short-lived. The reality of what had happened was too overwhelming.
My thoughts were still tangled in the chaos when I noticed a movement behind him. My eyes widened as I saw him.
Kyle.
Kyle Molotov.
Judas noticed my distraction and followed my eyes before he let out a guttural growl. "Fuck your timing, Molotov."
Kyle shifted and my eyes landed on the gun in his hand. It was unlike pistols I saw or rifles, it was long and pointed. Sniper. So, he was the one sniping in the venue.
He nodded at him with his cold eyes. "Ms Rosewood."
I froze, unsure how to respond. Kyle had always been distant, but there was something even colder about him now. How could… I not see what Judas was upto? Even if I knew, what would I have done? It wasn't like I could stop him.
I couldn't look at Kyle for long. He was Judas's ruthless chess move.
Judas did save me when Lucius put his hands on me.
But at what cost?
The island was gone. Burned. Bombed. A smoldering graveyard for anyone who dared to cross him.
Vlad deserved it. I couldn't deny that. I had seen it in Vlad's.
And yet, here I stood, questioning it. Questioning myself. Was I any better? Could I have stopped him? No. Not then. Not now. Not ever.
If he fell, I'd fall. That was the truth. I hated it, but I couldn't escape it. Even if Judas dragged me into this mess, I would never leave it. Even if I did, there were far more cruel vultures out there. Lucius Morozov. I heard it. The recording, didn't I? Then what was I hoping.
I swallowed hard as my mind fought to piece it together.
But he wouldn't let anyone take what was his.
And I was his.
It made sense. God, it made sense.
Because without him, there'd be nothing left of me.
Even if it terrified me. Even if it made me hate myself.
I looked at Judas again as my chest heaved. His hand tightened around mine, pulling me closer. Kyle's expression didn't waver, but he inclined his head slightly before turning his attention back to whatever he was doing on his phone.
Judas guided me to the seat, sitting beside me and pulling me into his side. His arm wrapped around my shoulders protectively as he pulled me closer, dragging me into his lap with an ease that made my breath hitch.
I stiffened at first, unsure of what to do, but his touch was gentle-unexpectedly so. His fingers brushed along my spine, a slow, deliberate motion that sent a shiver down my body.
"You don't need to be afraid," he murmured, and I hated how velvety he wounded like a dream or a nightmare. I didn't know. It was infuriating. His lips brushed against the curve of my neck, feather-light and maddeningly soft. "This is your safest place, ptichka. Right here. No one can hurt you here."
I wanted to argue, to push him away and question how safety could ever coexist with the chaos he'd unleashed. But the way his lips moved, trailing hot kisses down my neck, made it impossible to think straight.
"You're shaking," he whispered against my skin as his teeth grazed the sensitive spot just below my ear, and I gasped. "Not scared, are you?"
"N-no," I stammered gripping the fabric of his shirt.
"Good," he growled softly. His tongue darted out, tasting my skin, burning it and devouring all in single flick. "You don't need to be scared of me, ptichka. Not when you're in my lap."
His words sent a flush of heat through me, shame and desire warring in my chest. His hands roamed lower, resting on my hips as he pressed me closer.
"Fuck, you feel so good," he muttered grinding me softly on him. "So soft. So perfect. Do you even know what you do to me, little bird?"
I couldn't find my voice, not when his lips were back on my neck, kissing, nibbling, and leaving a trail of fire in their wake. His teeth scraped against my skin, just enough to make me whimper, and his low chuckle vibrated against my throat.
"You're mine, Little bird," he grumbled not caring if the staff could hear us or even his guard was sitting just a few seats away. "I've carved your name into my soul, and I'll etch mine into your bones until the world knows who you belong to. Lips danced along my flesh as he nibbled and I trembled. No one ever touched me this way. So demandingly and boldly. "You'll wear me like a mark burned deep beneath your skin, and I'll hide you under my flesh until the world fades, and even then, I would not let you do."
He was venom, so sweet and deadly I didn't know I was drinking him in with no thought of salvation. My body betrayed me, arching into him, seeking what my mind denied. His hands, rough and possessive, roamed like they owned me-because, God help me, they did.
I was his canvas, his conquest, his chaos to command. And in his grip, I wasn't sure if I was breaking… or becoming.
"I'd kill for you, ptichka," his thumb brushed over my trembling lips. "I'd burn the world if it meant keeping you safe. And if anyone ever tries to take you from me, they'll fucking regret it."
His lips crashed against mine before I could respond, stealing my breath and every coherent thought. His kiss was demanding claiming me completely. And for the first time, I didn't resist.