Ilian
"Only you would turn your back on an empire men would kill their sons for."
Kai plopped down on the leather sofa, his boots hooked carelessly on the armrest, his body slouched in practiced irreverence.
"Don't tell me it's just principle, Ilian. She's written all over your defiance."
The words should have slid off me like rain. Instead, they lingered for a little too long.
Kai had been at my side since my teenage years—back when blood stained my hands and Dmitri controlled every one of my actions so I'd become the leader the underworld wanted.
He wasn't family by blood, but he was the closest thing I'd ever had to one. Confidant, companion, and sometimes, conscience. The only one who knew all the fractures in my story, the only one I could stand long enough to let into the same room.
He'd been there when Gloria was a child, too. He'd seen how her laugh cracked open a place in me I didn't know existed, how her small hand wrapped around mine had felt more binding than any oath of loyalty.
Even now, if I closed my eyes, I could still summon the image of her—running, breathless, cheeks flushed with triumph over some childish game. That same spark had followed her into the bench scene days ago, though it was no longer innocence but something far more dangerous.
Her waist beneath my hand, soft curves where once there had been none. Her breath tangled with mine when the wind pressed us too close.
I'd known power. I'd known violence. But nothing made me feel more unsteady than that single moment under a tree, when I remembered heaven could be stolen from me a second time.
Kai was still talking.
"Ilian." His tone sharpened when he caught my distraction. "What happened with Ms. Briar?"
My jaw ticked. "She knows."
"Knows what?"
"Enough."
The memory unfurled, her voice low, eyes cutting. She hadn't said how or why, but she'd made it clear she was aware that Gloria's life and mine had been knotted together long before this school. I couldn't even fathom how she found out.
She gave me just enough of a taste of what she could do. Not to ruin me—but to ruin Gloria through me. Only so, she could have a taste of me.
Kai cursed softly. "Then she's not acting alone. I'd bet Dmitri sent her. He's been trying to smoke you out for years."
Before I could answer, the sliding door to my office creaked open.
Nico.
He leaned against the frame as the golden boy façade barely covered the venom in his eyes. "Or maybe Ilian isn't fighting Dmitri at all. Maybe he's with him. That would explain why you won't stay the hell away from my sister."
Kai shot up from the couch, his body instantly coiled for a fight. I lifted a hand, still seated.
Nico's gaze cut to me, sharp as broken glass.
"You walk back into her life after years, and suddenly we're supposed to believe you're here for her protection?" He smirked. "No." His voice cracked with fury. "You're dangerous, Valevsky. Every second she's near you, you're pulling her closer to a world she doesn't deserve."
I let the accusation hang. Then, quietly: "And you think you can protect her better than I can?"
"I know I can."
"No." My voice was iron. "You're too weak."
He saw the dismissal in my face, so he bristled, stepping forward. "And you're too dangerous."
The air fractured between us. I didn't raise my voice. "I left the mafia years ago. I chose exile over blood. But you—" I let my gaze flick over him, measured, cutting. "You can't even imagine the wolves waiting outside your door. You mistake bravery for noise. That will get her killed."
"You expect me to believe you walked away?" His laugh was bitter. "Men like you don't walk away. You just wait until someone pulls you back in."
Kai moved between us, a hand on Nico's chest. His voice was quieter but no less dangerous. "Enough."
Nico shoved back, but Kai's weight didn't budge.
"You want her safe?" Kai's eyes burned into his. "Then leave before you say something you'll regret."
For a long, tense beat, Nico stood frozen. His chest rose and fell, every line of his body strung tight with rage.
Then he turned on his heel and slammed the door behind him.
The silence that followed was heavier than his words.
I leaned back on my chair and closed my eyes. Heat blazing through my veins.
The ghost of Gloria's warmth is still alive against my hand. And for the first time in years, I wasn't sure who was more dangerous to her—Dmitri, Nico, or me.
****
When I returned to the school, most of the students had already left. The corridors were nearly empty, lockers shut, lights dimmed. Only a few voices carried faintly down the hall. Gloria's voice and Nina's.
They were still here.
The Principal caught me halfway down the hall. "Mr. Valevsky," he said, too quickly, smiling in a way that asked for approval. "I didn't expect you'd still be on campus—"
"Clearly." I didn't stop walking. "I'll take the last class."
He hesitated. "Should I inform Mrs. Dalton that you—"
"That won't be necessary."
He gave a small nod, falling back immediately. People always did. They understood without needing explanation. Whether in Moscow, London, or here—that I didn't ask for permission.
Inside the classroom, the teacher in charge looked relieved when I entered. After a swift exchange, she left the room.
The change was instant.
Gloria didn't look up when I stepped closer. She kept her head down, pen moving across the page too deliberately, as if she needed something, anything to keep her focus away from me.
But fuck me, I couldn't look away. Her blazer was draped across the back of the chair instead of on her shoulders. The white shirt of her uniform was neat, though the sleeves were rolled just above her wrists as if she'd grown restless with the heat.
The skirt reached her knees like every other student's, but on her it looked sharper, cleaner, as though she had ironed it herself that morning. Even her tie hung perfectly straight. She never looked careless, not even when she tried.
Nina filled the silence with chatter, unaffected.
Gloria looked so adorable, I was going to combust.
"So," I put the chalk down. "We're done here. Hopefully, everyone's question's answered." I tilted my head at her direction slightly.
"Yes, sir. That's all we needed. Thank you." Nina answered as she waited for Gloria to pack her things.
She nodded at me slightly and took off.
Amidst the silence of the class, the sound of the chalk earlier, and the way she stole glances at me came back with raging force. The corner of my mouth turned up.
I forced myself to get up and get out. Here, her scent was too visible, too overpowering.
The corridor outside was dim, the storm pressing against the tall windows. By the time I stepped outside, rain had already begun, the steady drizzle turning sharp with each gust of wind.
And there she was.
Gloria stood at the edge of the steps, her blazer held weakly over her head in a losing battle against the downpour. Strands of dark hair clung to her cheek, water tracing down her jaw. She looked so small against the gray curtain of rain, like the storm had chosen her as its target.
My grip on the umbrella tightened. Before I thought better of it, I was moving toward her.
She startled when I stopped at her side. Wide eyes flicked up to meet mine just as I angled the umbrella over her. The rain softened above her.
She shifted, a step away, but I caught her wrist gently and drew her back under the canopy, close to my chest. She looked so small that I wanted to keep her there forever.
"Stay still," I said. "You'll catch a cold."
Her skin was cool against my fingers. She froze, not pulling away but not relaxing either. Her attempts of trying to move away was doing me injustice.
"Mr. Valevsky…" she began. The sound of it was almost swallowed by the rain, but I heard it as if she'd whispered it directly into me.
I fixed the umbrella as her shoulder brushed my chest, the fabric of her damp sleeve catching against my suit.
Her breath hitched.
The world had gone quieter. Only the relentless rhythm of rain and the fragile space between us.
Her gaze flickered to my hand at her wrist. I let go, but the absence felt heavier than the touch itself. Her hair was wet where it clung to her temple, and before I realized what I was doing, I brushed it back. My knuckles skimmed the edge of her cheekbone.
She went very still, eyes darting away, then back.
A shiver rippled through her, whether from the cold or something else I couldn't decide.
"Sir, I can walk home," she whispered, though her body betrayed her.
"No." My voice was harsher than I intended, and I softened it only by degrees. "Not like this."
The rain hammered harder, a sharp crack of thunder splitting the distance. She flinched, and her hand closed, almost unconsciously, against the sleeve of my coat.
The smallest touch. But it felt like fire.
I bent slightly, close enough that my breath stirred against her ear. "I'll take you home."
Her lips parted like she wanted to protest—but she didn't. She just swallowed hard and nodded, the faintest motion.
And I knew then the rain wasn't the only thing she'd surrendered to.