Then Victor looked around.
He saw people staring at them. Some were whispering, some were watching silently. No one was looking away out of fear; everyone's gaze was fixed on Alia and Victor.
Victor's face was completely calm, but his eyes gradually turned cold. He looked down at Alia's hand, which was still clutching his shirt. Then, very slowly, he turned his gaze toward the people around them.
A heavy silence descended. It was as if everyone had frozen in his presence.
Then, in a low voice, Victor said, "There is nothing to see here."
His voice was calm but carried a suppressed threat. The people immediately averted their eyes. Some reached for their glasses, some turned away. No one dared to look again.
Victor turned back to Alia. His eyes were soft now, yet still intense. Then, he slowly pulled Alia's hand from his shirt, but very gently as if he didn't want to break her.
Though the room returned to its former bustle, the silence between them remained unchanged. Then, in a calm but firm voice, Victor said, "Let's go home."
Alia looked at him, the depth of Victor's gaze still holding her in a strange trance. She didn't say a word, simply nodding in agreement. Victor gently took her by the wrist, as if he were protecting her while simultaneously binding her to his own territory.
He led her through the crowd and outside. A cold breeze was blowing, but Alia felt an intense heat from Victor's touch. No one dared to look at them anymore; even those standing nearby seemed to recoil at the sound of Victor's footsteps.
When they reached the car, Victor opened the door for her himself. After Alia got in and Victor took the driver's seat, that same cold expression returned to his face. He started the engine, but before pulling away, he glanced into the rearview mirror where Alia's reflection was visible.
"From today on," Victor said in a very low voice, his every word distinct, "I will not allow any more drama outside my sight."
As the car sped away, cutting through the darkness of the night, Alia realized that the storm brewing between their silence had only just begun. Victor carried Alia in his arms as he brought her inside. She was deep in a heavy sleep, her soft breaths falling against his chest. He laid her down on the bed in their bedroom with the utmost care. Alia stirred slightly, but Viktor quickly placed a hand on her forehead, soothing her back into slumber.
Stepping out of the room, he stood in the hallway. Downstairs, the maid caught sight of Viktor and immediately bowed her head, her body trembling with fear.
Viktor did not look at her directly; instead, keeping his gaze fixed on the darkness of the balcony, he spoke in a low, grave voice.
"The Madam is very tired. Make sure no one disturbs her throughout the night. I don't want to hear a single sound near her door. And yes..."
Viktor paused for a moment before continuing, "I do not want to hear any commotion at the breakfast table before morning. If there is even the slightest mistake, you know what the price will be. Remember that."
The maid bowed her head quickly in compliance. "Yes, sir. I will be careful."
Viktor said nothing more. He walked toward his office, each of his footsteps sounding like a grim warning in the silence of the night. Alia was asleep, but Viktor's wakeful night had only just begun. Stepping out of the room, Viktor began to unbutton his shirt. The maid, still standing in the hallway, suddenly found herself flustered by the sight, her cheeks turning bright red with embarrassment. She quickly averted her gaze, unable to look at him.
Viktor glanced at her his expression devoid of emotion, filled only with an authoritative coldness. He took off his shirt completely and tossed it aside.
Seeing the girl's visible discomfort, Viktor spoke with a tone of sharp, cold annoyance, "Go."
That single word was enough. The girl didn't dare say a word; she hurried away from the spot instantly. Viktor stood alone in the hallway, his face impassive. In the dim light, the muscles of his back looked like those of a stone statue. In the silence of the night, the secluded house felt like his own dark empire.Viktor stood in the hallway and pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. With a steady hand, he lit one and took a deep drag. A coil of smoke curled around his stern face like a faint mist.
Holding the cigarette, he slowly walked back toward Alia's bedroom. The door was slightly ajar. He didn't step inside; instead, he stood leaning against the doorframe. The glowing red ember of his cigarette looked strange in the darkness.
His gaze was fixed on Alia, who was deep in a peaceful sleep. She lay there, completely untroubled. Viktor watched her intently. There was no softness in his gaze, yet no hatred either only a sense of deep possessiveness and a strange satisfaction.
As he exhaled the smoke, Viktor's face became even more enigmatic. He seemed to feel that even in her sleep, every part of Alia's existence was under his control. He stood still for a long time, as if this quiet scene brought him an unknown sense of calm. A very faint, almost invisible smile played on his lips a gesture that only betrayed his predatory nature. The cigarette smoke dissipated into the air. Viktor suddenly looked at his right palm, where a deep wound from a previous struggle had opened up. He clenched his fist tightly, causing fresh blood to trickle down.
He walked slowly toward the bed. Alia was still in a deep sleep. Viktor sat on the edge of the bed and leaned over her. Looking at her innocent face, a strange madness flickered in his eyes. He brought his blood-stained hand toward her lips.
Very carefully, he let the blood trickling from his fingers smear onto Alia's lips and cheek. The blood blended with her skin, creating a dark red streak.
At that exact moment, a faint, subtle smile appeared on Alia's lips while she was still asleep. Without opening her eyes, she tilted her head slightly, as if savoring the bloody touch. Her smile was mysterious, as if she knew exactly who was touching her, as if she were accustomed to this dark obsession.
Viktor stared, stunned. This surrender from his "prey" gave him a sense of extreme satisfaction. He whispered, "Mine."
Alia smiled faintly with her eyes still closed, as if she had finally become a part of Viktor's dark empire. Alia slowly opened her eyes. In the dim light, the familiar depth and intensity of Viktor's gaze held her captive. When she noticed Viktor looming over her and felt the blood on her own lips, she didn't recoil. Instead, she looked into his eyes and offered a mysterious, hypnotic smile.
Viktor moved even closer. His body heat and the faint scent of cigarettes enveloped her. His voice was low, heavy, and entranced as he whispered right into her ear, "Are you ready?"
Alia kept her gaze locked onto his, completely devoid of fear, displaying a fierce loyalty to his dark world. In a soft but clear voice, she replied, "Yes."
That single word was enough to shatter all of Viktor's restraint. His gentle touch became more demanding. In the silent, dark room, the only sound was that of their quickening heartbeats. Viktor lowered his chin toward the nape of her neck, as if finally claiming his dominion over her entire existence. It was 2:00 AM. A hypnotic silence filled the room, broken only by the sound of their deep, heavy breathing. Moonlight streamed through the window, casting a mysterious glow over the bed.
They both lay in bed, with only a thin sheet draped over them. Beneath the sheet, their bare bodies were pressed together, lost in each other's warmth. Viktor held Alia close against his chest with his powerful arms, as if shielding her from the entire world within the confines of his own territory. Alia rested her head upon his chest, where the steady rhythm of his heartbeat was clearly audible.
In the dim light, the contours of Viktor's muscular frame were highlighted. Alia's skin shivered slightly against the contact of his chest. There were no words, no sounds only their existences merging into one within the silence. At this deep hour of the night, everything outside their world seemed utterly meaningless.It was dawn. The first light of morning filtered through the curtains, falling onto the bed. The air in the room was heavy and still.
The maid arrived on time with breakfast, knocking gently on the door. Receiving no response and remembering his earlier orders, she pushed the door open cautiously. But the sight that met her eyes caused the tray in her hands to crash to the floor glass shattered, echoing through the room.
The way Viktor and Alia were entwined on the bed, coupled with the sight of Viktor's blood-stained shirt discarded on the floor, was both terrifying and intensely intimate. The girl stood frozen for a few seconds, her face pale with overwhelming dread. Then, her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed onto the floor, unconscious.
The sound of her fall woke Viktor. He did not hurry. Gently turning Alia to her side, he sat up. Seeing the unconscious girl on the floor, a line of annoyance creased his lips.
He stepped off the bed slowly and looked down at the maid. There was not a shred of pity in his eyes, only profound irritation. Viktor muttered in a cold, dismissive voice, "Strange."
He glanced back at Alia, who was still deep in sleep. Pulling the sheet slightly higher over her, Viktor stepped out of the room and gestured for the guards downstairs to remove the girl. To him, such human weakness was utterly trivial. The girl slowly opened her eyes. The surroundings were unfamiliar a suffocating, dark room. Trembling with fear, she tried to sit up, her voice barely a whisper. "Where... where am I?" she stammered.
Standing in the corner was the head caretaker a man known for his cruel and stony demeanor. Hearing her, he let out a hideous laugh that sounded even more terrifying in the darkness. He stepped toward her, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Where? Why, you've reached the gates of hell. People usually don't return from here, so calling this place hell is an understatement."
The girl shivered, but her terror escalated when she noticed the bodyguard standing at the door, eyeing her with suspicion. Clutching the butt of his weapon, the guard strode into the room. Leaning close to her ear, he snarled in a harsh, menacing tone, "Have you lost your mind? What gave you the audacity to enter that room? Don't you know the boss is in there? Why did you throw yourself into the face of death?"
The girl couldn't utter a word; she could only weep as tears streamed down her cheeks. She realized the horrifying price one pays for prying into Viktor's private world, and now, she was experiencing the consequences firsthand. The maid sobbed and asked, "What happens to me now?"
The bodyguard looked at her, his eyes devoid of any empathy, though there was a hint of indifference. He said in a grave voice, "Forget about going home. Anything that happens here must remain a secret. However, an arrangement has been made for you."
He paused for a moment before continuing, "There is a Russian man, a member of our team. He will take you away and marry you. This is Viktor's order. He wants you out of here so you don't cause any more trouble. According to his orders, you are now free... free from your duties in this house. But you must go with that Russian man."
The girl froze like a statue in fear. Viktor's order it was final; there would be no changing it. She realized she had escaped death, but she was being pushed toward a dark, uncertain fate.
The bodyguard said in a harsh tone, "Get ready quickly. The boy is waiting outside. Delaying Viktor's orders only invites danger upon yourself. You are free, but from now on, you are a prisoner of a different life." The wedding was simple but took place in an atmosphere of sheer dread. It was held in a small chapel outside the estate, surrounded by Viktor's armed bodyguards, making it feel less like a celebration and more like a coerced transfer of a prisoner.
The girl stood in her white wedding dress, but there was no joy in her eyes—only a hollow, deep-seated terror. Beside her stood the Russian man, Ivan, as still as a statue. There was no emotion in his eyes either; he was simply there to execute Viktor's command.
Just then, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the chapel. Everyone bowed their heads in subservience, stepping aside. Viktor entered, dressed in a sharp, dark suit, his gaze as cold and piercing as ever. He walked straight toward the altar.
The priest, trembling, recited the vows. Viktor stepped forward and pulled a small, expensive box from his pocket, handing it to Ivan the "wedding gift" for the girl, which was truly a chain for her new life.
Viktor placed a hand on Ivan's shoulder and said in a low, distinct voice, "From today, she is your responsibility. Ensure that not a word about what happens in my house ever leaves your lips."
He then glanced at Alia, who was standing behind them, watching the scene. Viktor didn't even spare the girl a direct look, as if she held no significance to him at all. He addressed Ivan firmly, "Don't waste time. Once this is done, leave the city immediately. Go as far as you can."
Viktor's presence cast a heavy, icy darkness over the entire ceremony. The wedding concluded, but the girl realized that she had just entered a lifelong, invisible prison.