Page 48

Then, without hesitation, he shoved me forward, my face plunging back into the water.

I screamed.

And then, silence.

Only the water swallowing me whole.

I was going to die.

I was going to die.

Something warm suddenly wraps around my hand, prying it away from its grip on the counter. My fingers instinctively clutch onto it, squeezing tightly, my nails digging in. That same warmth coils around my waist, pulling me against something firm yet comforting. I gasp, struggling to breathe.

Antonio’s voice slowly fades, replaced by a deeper one with a slight accent, as a scent begins to infiltrate my senses—sea salt and pine.

“Selina, you’re safe. Just breathe,” the voice murmurs near my ear, piercing through the suffocating fog in my mind.

“You’re safe. He will never touch you again, Selina. Never again,” the man continues, his hold tightening around my waist. “But you need to breathe,Solnyshko. Don’t let him win. Don’t let him break you. Not after you fought so hard to survive all these years. Come on, breathe,” Nikolaï coaxes gently, his lips brushing against my throat where my pulse pounds erratically.

I jolt at the warmth of his touch against my sweat-dampened skin. Blinking rapidly, I focus on the lightbulb above the mirror, inhaling deeply as tremors continue to shake my body. The hand enclosing mine moves it to my stomach, securing me against him as he buries his face deeper into my neck.

“That’s it,Solnyshko. Just breathe. Fight,” he whispers.

My vision gradually clears, the chaos in my mind retreating, leaving behind only exhaustion—bone-deep and unbearable.

And then, another emotion surfaces.

My lips tremble, my eyes burn, and before I can stop it, a sob escapes me.

I begin to cry.

I cry in a way I haven’t in eight years—years spent fighting, surviving, enduring.

The weight of my fatigue crushes me. It’s been so long. So many nights spent sleeping with one eye open, so many endless days spent hiding in dark corners, hoping he would forget I existed.

I sob so violently that my entire body shakes. My tears fall uncontrollably, and I don’t react when Nikolaï leans back against the wall, pulling me onto his lap. One of his arms wraps securely around my shoulders while his other hand slides to the nape of my neck, massaging it gently.

“It will be okay.”

My eyes widen, snapping up to his face in astonishment.

He offers me a small, knowing smile. “Rafael explained a little about your secret language,” he murmurs before pressing his lips against my forehead.

And somehow, I cry even harder.

Burying my face against his chest, I clutch at his black T-shirt—the one he must have thrown on to sleep in. He continues to cradle me, his hand never leaving my nape, his lips occasionally brushing against my hair.

Slowly, my sobs quiet into soft hiccups and sniffles.

I finally lift my gaze to meet his, embarrassment creeping over me.Oh God. Did I really just break down like a child in the arms of a Russian mafia boss ?

Our eyes lock, and I press my lips together. His gaze scans my face, lingering on my puffy eyes, my tear-streaked cheeks, and—oh God—my nose, which is probably red from all the sniffling.

His lips curl into a smirk.

He brushes his thumb over my damp cheek before lowering his head, his lips grazing the tip of my nose.

“You’re beautiful,Solnyshko,” he murmurs, pulling back slightly, his fingers combing through my damp hair.