I sat awkwardly, my hands folded in my lap as the scents of Russian pelmeni, Italian pasta, and American-style steak swirled together. The spread was lavish, but my appetite was buried somewhere under everything I'd just witnessed.
Judas sat beside me, composed as ever and I didn't know how he could keep his expression unreadable. On his other side, Ralph leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming a restless rhythm against the table. Across from me, Rara sat between Killian and Alexei, her movements tense but deliberate as she passed a plate of bread. Alexei looked deep in thought, his fingers tracing the rim of his untouched glass.
Even the workers around were more tense than anything.
The quiet wasn't just heavy-it was choking me.
Killian, however, seemed entirely unaffected, that's where Judas got his… boldness from. Though I had come to like Killian, even the tiniest bit, only because he seemed charming and someone who never takes things seriously. But there was something… weird about him. How do I tell, he seemed like someone who would burn you down without feeling an ounce of remorse all while smiling.
I didn't realise I was staring at him when he leaned forward and his piercing blue eyes locked onto mine. "You should eat, kleine Taube," he said warmly though it was anything but that. I nervously nodded. "I promise, none of us bite. Well," his gaze flicked briefly to Judas, "most of us don't."
(Little dove.)
Judas chuckled.
I realised another thing. Judas seemed to like Killian more than the other two.
"I… I'm fine," I mumbled.
"Nonsense," Killian said, grabbing a plate and loading it with a little bit of everything. "Let me make sure you don't faint at the table. Wouldn't want my little prince to think I'm a terrible host," he looked beside Judas, at Ralph and grinned. "And a terrible father."
"Killian," Ralph growled lowly.
"What?" Killian turned to him, feigning innocence as he slid the plate in front of me. "I'm being hospitable. Maybe you should try it sometime, Ralphy."
"I swear to God-"
"Enough," Rara grumbled. "If you two can't behave like grown men, I'll feed you to the dogs myself."
I choked on my own breath.
Well, I wasn't expecting this.
Rara seemed kind… well, she was… but she knew how to keep her men in check. Now that I noticed, all of them obeyed her in their own ways.
Killian raised his hands. "As you wish, Schmetterling." His tone turned softer, more intimate, as he smirked at her. And I blushed feeling like I was the one interrupting. "But your bite is far more dangerous than any dog's."
Rara rolled her eyes, but her cheeks tinted the faintest shade of pink.
Across the table, Alexei sighed heavily, his gaze far away as if he wasn't even hearing anything at all. His fork lay untouched beside his plate, and the crease between his brows deepened. Whatever was running through his mind, it was as much a storm as the one brewing in my chest.
I pushed the food around on my plate, glancing at Judas. But there was a tightness in his jaw, and he hadn't spoken at all.
The dinner however went with strange calm. If Killian's comments were not to be taken in consideration. Ralph was also quiet.
I helped Rara organise the kitchen though she insisted not to. But I wasn't going to let her do the work when she cooked the delicious food. I wanted to be kind for once.
While helping her, I noticed how meticulous she was. Like despite having workers, she preferred handling the kitchen on her own.
She somehow reminded me of my own mother. And the second I thought of her, my chest ached.
I missed her.
And Mikhail.
I hadn't contacted her ever since… I didn't even recall.
Mikhail hated being alone. Was he still sitting under that tree at lunch, nibbling on dry bread while other kids laughed in groups? My heart twisted. He was so young. Too young to face a world that could be as cruel as the one I'd been thrust into.
And my mother… Had she been eating properly? Sleeping? She never let her worries show, but I knew her too well. She probably spent her nights at the table, poring over bills, her hands trembling as she calculated and recalculated the same numbers hoping a few zeroes would reduce.
I swallowed the lump in my throat, gripping the edge of the sink to steady myself. This was no time to lose myself in emotions. Tears wouldn't fix anything. They never did. I blinked hard and forced my thoughts away from the ache in my chest.
"You're too quiet, dear." Rara's voice startled me. I looked up to find her watching me. "Everything okay, dear?"
I nodded quickly, mustering a small smile. "Yes, of course. Just… a lot on my mind."
Her gaze lingered for a moment longer before she turned back to wipe down the counter. "You remind me of myself at your age," she said softly. "Don't overthink. It'll wear you out."
I didn't know what to say to that, so I stayed silent, focusing on drying the plates and stacking them neatly.
But a reality slammed into me like a cold wave.
What was I even doing here? In this house? With these people?
I felt like an intruder, an outsider swept into their waves and now I was struggling to keep my head above water.
"There. All done," Rara's voice stilled me. "Go rest, dear. You've had a long day."
I hesitated but nodded. "Thank you," I murmured, drying my hands and stepping away.
But the nagging feeling of disconnection, of being too far from home, too far from the people I loved, was still there.
I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek, swallowing the surge of emotion threatening to rise. This wasn't the time. Pushing the thoughts aside, I made my way to the living room where Judas was making a call.
He sensed my presence and turned before pushing his phone into his pocket.
Judas's eyes locked on me the moment he turned as if he were trying to read my thoughts before I could even speak. It was as though he had perfected the art of hiding everything behind that cool, impenetrable mask.
I stood near the door, unsure whether to stay or retreat.
"What's wrong?" he asked striding towards me.
I hesitated. What could I even tell him? That I felt like I didn't belong here? That I missed home, missed the life that felt like a distant memory now?
"Nothing," I said softly. "Just tired."
His eyes narrowed slightly, and I knew he didn't believe me. Judas had a way of seeing through people, peeling back their layers without them realizing it. It was frightening, that ability to stare straight into someone's soul. When he kept his hidden.
He took a step closer, his hands slipping into his pockets in a way that seemed casual but was anything but. "You're lying, ptichka,"
I found myself unable to hold his gaze. "I'm fine,"
"Fine," he mumbled.
I dared to glance up again, and the intensity in his eyes caught me off guard. There was something there, buried beneath the steel exterior-something raw and unguarded, if only for a fleeting second.
For a moment, he became my world. Silence clung to him like a hymn only anger could sing.
He was overwhelming. My heart raced and my walls cracked. I hated it. And yet, a bitter calm in the eye of his storm. "You must be tired."
I wanted to argue but flinched when he walked to the stairs. I followed him all while staring at his back. He was calm today, but I didn't know how long this calm would stay for. One slight mistake from me, and I'd be back in the abyss I thought I left. I'd be back on that island. On that lake.
Judas led me upstairs to a room I assumed was his. It was as cold and impersonal as the man himself, the walls a steely grey, the furniture minimalist and sharp-edged. It was spacious with a bookshelf on the side, a large couch in the middle, a large king-sized bed on the far wall and floor-to-ceiling windows, with dark grey curtains draped, plush carpet, and dark floor
I hovered awkwardly near the bed as he unbuttoned his shirt, exposing the sculpted lines of his torso. I would never be able to understand how large he was. Those tattoos, and that damn snake on his back terrified me, yet… strangely thrilled me.
My cheeks burned, and I quickly turned away, my fingers twisting nervously.
He wouldn't… force me to have sex with him, would he?
And what if he would? It was not like I could run anywhere. Would I have to take him? Even when I was tired and as gentle as he was, it would hurt.
"You can take the bed," he said gruffly, tossing his shirt aside on the couch and I jumped.
"I-I can sleep on the couch," I stammered, glancing at the couch in the corner.
When he didn't say anything, I nervously glanced at him to find him looking at me with a deep frown. And I hated how his sharp gaze as it pinned me in place. "Don't be ridiculous, ptichka. The bed's big enough for both of us."
My heart raced as he moved toward me. When he stopped in front of me, his hands went to the back of my dress and his fingers brushed against my skin as he unfastened the zipper.
"Judas-"
"It's just a dress, ptichka," he murmured. "I'll grab you something to wear."
He disappeared into the closet and returned with a large black T-shirt. It smelled like him-clean and woodsy, with a hint of something darker, something dangerous, something him. He handed it to me without a word and he changed into sweats not bothering to put on a shirt.
So, he wasn't going to…
I shook my head. What was I thinking? I should be glad.
I slipped into the shirt as the fabric swallowed me whole. The hem reached mid-thigh, and the sleeves hung loose around my arms. I felt small, fragile even, as Judas turned back to me.
Without a word, he scooped me up, his strong arms cradling me effortlessly and a startled scream left my lips.
"What are you-?"
"Relax," his tone was softer than I'd ever heard it. He carried me to the bed and set me down gently, his fingers brushing against my cheek for the briefest moment before he pulled away.
We lay side by side, the silence stretching between us. My mind was a whirlwind of questions, but one lingered on my tongue.
"Why are you so distant from them?" I finally whispered my voice barely audible in the dark.
His jaw ticked, his profile tense in the faint light filtering through the curtains. For a moment I thought I over-stepped the line. But he chuckled. Unamused. "I don't hate them, ptichka. They just…" He trailed off, exhaling heavily. "I feel like… I am not the son they wished for."
My chest tightened at the rawness in his voice. Before I could think, my hand reached out, hesitating before brushing against the back of his neck. His breath hitched, and for a moment, I thought he might pull away.
Instead, he groaned, a low, guttural sound, and pressed his face against my chest, his arms wrapping tightly around me.
"Touch me," he whispered as if he was straining himself. I didn't know what it was, whether the vulnerability in me or the way he exposed himself to me, even just a bit. It was scary truly.
My fingers trembled as they slid through his hair, and he let out a shuddering breath and his grip on me tightened.
My heart ached as his face pressed deeper into my breasts and his warmth seeped into my skin.
And for the first time, I wasn't afraid of him.