As soon as Viktor left the room and the sound of his heavy boots faded into the corridor, silence descended upon the palace. It was 1:00 AM. Alia was sitting quietly by the window, the locket held firmly in her grasp. Suddenly, she felt a slight shift in the air and a cold sensation near her neck. Someone had silently entered the room and pressed the barrel of a gun against the back of her head.
However, Alia was not shaken in the slightest. Her trained mind analyzed the situation in a split second. Without even looking back, she moved with lightning speed, grabbing the barrel of the gun with one hand and pulling it toward herself. At that very same second, she rose from the chair and delivered a powerful kick into the intruder's stomach.
Alia said in a cold voice, "Viktor gave me this locket to protect me, and you thought you could catch me like this?"
As the man collapsed onto the floor in agony, Alia took control of the gun. She realized that the moment Viktor left, the palace's security perimeter had either been breached or someone was testing her. Alia is no longer just a prisoner or a Godmother she is now a hunter, ready to uncover the identity of her enemy. a battlefield in an instant. The fight between Alia and the intruder was brief but incredibly vicious. Alia gave the man no chance, delivering a strike to his neck that left him lifeless on the floor. However, the remnants of the fight remained on Alia her white clothing was stained red with blood, perhaps from a deep cut she sustained during the struggle.
Alia sat panting on the luxurious sofa in the center of the room. A deathly silence surrounded her; the intruder's body lay motionless on the floor. The bloodstains on her clothes shimmered in the dim light of the lamp, yet there was no trace of fear in her gaze. She calmly gripped the locket in her palm again.
She realized that the fact someone attacked her in Viktor's absence meant her enemies knew her location. Alia began to feel that familiar, ruthless nature of her 'Godmother' persona returning. Sitting on the sofa, she smiled toward the darkened room. These bodies might be a warning for Viktor, but for Alia, they were merely a step in her resurgence.The heavy door creaked open. Viktor stepped inside and froze. He still carried the residual tension of his mission, but the sight before him made his eyes widen with a mixture of shock and admiration.
Alia was sitting on the sofa. Her clothes were stained dark red with blood, with a tear near her shoulder revealing a fresh wound. At her feet lay the lifeless body of the intruder, and in her hand, she clutched the locket tightly. Alia lifted her head to look at Viktor; there was no exhaustion in her eyes, only an intense, cold self-confidence.
Viktor walked slowly across the blood-soaked floor toward her. He glanced at the wounds on her body and then at the body on the floor. His voice was low but serious, "I thought the locket would protect you, Alia. But I had forgotten that you possess the power to protect yourself."
He knelt before her and gently touched her blood-stained cheek with his hand. There was no mockery in Viktor's eyes now, only a shadow of deep respect, as if he were discovering Alia's true 'Godmother' persona for the first time. He whispered, "Did you truly fight this battle for me, or are these bodies the first sacrifices of your new empire?" Alia shifted slightly on the sofa; despite the blood dripping from her wound, there wasn't a hint of pain in her voice. She looked sharply at Viktor and asked, "I finished my battle. But what about your mission? What did you achieve in that FSB mission, Viktor?"
Viktor stood beside the sofa, his long shadow falling over the corpse on the floor. He smiled slightly and said, "Mission? The mission was a success, Alia. But the greater truth is that you have proven today that you are not just a part of my game; you are a worthy player in it. These missions of ours actually run very deep, where the line between betrayal and loyalty blurs."
Alia realized Viktor was skillfully evading the topic. Gripping the locket tighter in her fist, she thought to herself, was she the target of Viktor's operation, or was some larger conspiracy hidden behind it? She looked deep into Viktor's eyes and asked in a calm voice, "Are you afraid that I will interfere with your mission?"
Viktor gently gripped Alia's chin and turned her face toward him. His eyes now held a strange sense of possessiveness. He said, "Fear? No. I am simply thrilled to have someone by my side who knows how to make her existence known, even with her own blood."Alia's smile shifted from mysterious to something truly psychopathic. She wiped the fresh blood trickling from her wound with her finger and licked it off—as if the taste of this cruelty was sparking an intoxicating thrill in every cell of her body.
Viktor stood like a stone, watching this grotesque yet hypnotic transformation. He didn't move, as if her madness had cast a spell over him. Alia slowly inched closer and closer. The look in Viktor's eyes was no longer just respect; a deep, dark desire flickered within them.
Alia grabbed the collar of Viktor's shirt with both hands and pulled him hard. Her eyes locked directly into his. Without a moment's hesitation, she lunged toward his lips. This kiss was one of ownership, battle, and extreme tension. Viktor responded in kind, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her body flush against his own. In this dark palace in Moscow, Viktor and Alia were no longer just rivals; it felt like the collision of two destructive forces. The silence of the dark Moscow palace shattered, replaced by an intense, tumultuous atmosphere within the room. The bed shuddered violently, as if every tremor of Alia's body and her cries were echoing through the wooden frame. Alia clutched the bedsheet tightly, her nails leaving deep marks in the fabric. She was weeping, her voice a mix of pain and overwhelming sensation.
"Ahhhhh... Viktor, slow down!" Alia's desperate pleas filled the room.
However, there was no sign of mercy or hesitation in Viktor. With one hand, he gripped the sturdy railing of the bed so tightly that the veins in his arm stood out. Every movement of his was marked by extreme ruthlessness and a sense of possession. He turned a deaf ear to Alia's pleas. Instead, he increased his control, driving even deeper, extending the boundaries of his presence within her. With every move, he seemed to be trapping Alia further within the web of his own existence. In that searing, fire-like battle on that cold