Chapter 5 No Way Out
Night falls faster than I expected.
My father stumbled out drunk, flanked by Nikolai’s men. I’m still in my wedding dress, sitting in the same room Nikolai locked me in before. His words from earlier keep replaying in my head, refusing to fade.
Consummate the wedding.
The thought makes my stomach twist. The only kind of intimacy I’ve ever known was a kiss, with Adrian. Now a stranger, a man whose name carries fear, speaks of taking me as if it’s his right.
No. I won’t allow that.
I stand and rush to the door, turning the lock from the inside. The soft click echoes in the quiet room. At least for tonight, that gives me some control, however small.
My innocence will stay mine.
I make my way back to the bed and collapse onto it, exhaling the weight of everything at once. Adrian will come for me, I tell myself. He has to. Whatever plan he’s working on, I’ll trust him.
Soon, we’ll be together again.
And there’ll be no more Nikolai.
Just then, the door handle jerks, and my heart leaps. I freeze, every muscle locking in place. The metal rattles again, firmer this time, and my heart leaps into my throat.
A quiet chuckle follows, and I know without a doubt, it’s him.
The Devil himself.
“Little bride?” His voice drips through the door, rich and smooth, like dark wine.
My fingers clench at the sheets. I hate the sound of that name on his tongue. Bride. It feels wrong, dirty. I’m not his anything. This entire marriage was my father’s doing.
I stay silent, holding my breath, praying he’ll walk away.
But Nikolai never seemed like the kind of man who left things unfinished.
“You wound me,” he murmurs after a moment, tone almost playful. “Most brides wait impatiently for their husbands.”
The words make my skin crawl.
I press my lips together, refusing to answer.
Another pause. I can hear the faint creak of leather as he leans against the door, close enough that I imagine his breath brushing the wood.
“Are you afraid of me, little dove?”
I flinch. The new name startles me. Little dove. The cruel humor behind it makes my stomach twist.
I don’t respond, though my silence says everything.
He exhales softly, as if disappointed.
“Fear is good,” he says. “It keeps you from doing foolish things... like running.”
My breath catches.
Did he already guess what I’ve been planning?
“Don’t make me do this, little bride.”
His voice drops. “You won’t like the man I become when I lose patience.”
The room goes still. My heart pounds so hard it feels like it’ll give me away. Then, finally, his footsteps start to retreat down the hall.
Only then does my breath hitch, as though I’ve been holding it the entire time.
I don’t move until I’m certain he won’t return. My fingers are stiff when I finally rise to check the lock. Still shut. Still safe, for now.
I sink onto the bed again, the mattress dipping beneath my weight. The fire in the hearth has burned low, its faint orange light flickering across the walls.
Everything smells faintly of smoke and iron.
I draw my knees to my chest, resting my chin against them. Just last week, I was trying on wedding dresses, laughing with Adrian over colors and flowers. Now, I’m locked in a stranger’s house, claimed by a man who feels more like a curse than a husband.
My eyes sting, but I don’t cry.
I can’t.
I have to be strong.
If I ever want to escape Nikolai, I can’t fall apart now.
The room is silent, but it’s not peaceful. The kind of silence that presses against your ears and makes you hear your own heartbeat. I sit on the edge of the bed, staring at the locked door, telling myself he’s gone. That maybe he gave up.
Then I hear it. Footsteps.
Not just one pair. Three.
I go completely still. My pulse quickens until I can barely breathe.
The footsteps stop right outside the door.
Then... a loud, heavy thud.
The sound makes me jump. The door shakes on its hinges, and small flakes of wood fall to the floor. Another hit follows, louder, harder.
Are they… breaking the door open?
The thought barely forms before panic floods through me.
He’s actually doing it. He’s forcing his way in.
Now I’m certain, I'm somehow married to a psychopath.
A dangerous, unpredictable man who doesn’t know what boundaries mean. I never imagined this. Him breaking through a locked door just to reach me.
But here it is, happening right in front of me, and I can’t do anything to stop it.
I run to the window, hoping, praying it might open. My hands grip the bars, but they don’t budge. They’re cold and solid, trapping me in.
Panic rushes through me. What do I do now?
The pounding on the door continues. Each hit sounds louder than the last. Wood cracks, splinters fly, and I drop to the ground, covering my head as if that could protect me.
Then, silence.
For a few seconds, the world stops. I barely have time to hope it’s over when a gloved hand pushes through the broken wood and twists the lock from the inside.
The sound of the bolt sliding open is soft, but it makes my stomach twist.
The door creaks open slowly.
Nikolai steps inside first. Behind him are two men. They don’t have to speak for me to know they work for him.
But it’s Nikolai who makes the air feel heavy.
He doesn’t look angry. He doesn’t even look tired.
He looks calm. Almost pleased.
“See?” he says quietly. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
I stay frozen where I am, every muscle in my body stiff.
The two men back away and leave, closing the door behind them. The moment they’re gone, the silence returns. But this time, it feels worse.
Now it’s just me and him.
Nikolai’s eyes sweep across the room before landing on me. There’s no anger in his face. That’s what scares me most.
My heart slams painfully against my ribs, the sound of it loud enough that I swear he can hear it. He takes a step forward, and the faint crunch of broken wood under his boots sounds deafening in the silence.
The space between us shrinks with each step he takes, as if the very air is bending toward him. My pulse races, a frantic drum that drowns out everything else. My hands curl into fists at my sides, but they’re useless, like the rest of me.
And then it hits me. I am powerless
here. Not just trapped, but fully exposed, with no way out.
Whatever happens next, there’s no escaping Nikolai Volkov tonight.