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“Do you…do this often?” I ask. “Killing your own people?”
“We rarely tolerate traitors long enough to give them a second chance. Leon sealed his fate the moment he sold us out. This doesn’t happen every day, but it’s not uncommon in our world.”
I clasp my hands in my lap. “I wish it wasn’t normal. But I can’t pretend you didn’t just save me from a terrible outcome. I grew up hating violence after watching Father hurt so many people. Now here I am, relieved that you shot someone. What does that make me?”
“It makes you a survivor. You understand the stakes.”
I go quiet as I absorb that. He’s right. My father’s cruelty taught me that survival sometimes means accepting ugly truths. The Barkovs aren’t saints, but they want to protect me, and they have the power to do it.
Maybe it’s time I let them.
Dimitri shifts on the sofa. “We’ll need to re-check our security protocols. Leon might’ve revealed more about the estate’s routines than we realize. Thorne could have men stationed nearby.”
“So this won’t end anytime soon?”
“Not until Thorne is neutralized.” His tone leaves no doubt that he fully intends to see that through. He scrubs a hand over his face and adds, “I’m sorry you had to see that side of me.”
“It’s part of who you are,” I reply, surprising myself with how calm I sound. “I’m not naive enough to think your family rose to power without violence.”
“You don’t hate me for it?”
The question surprises me, and I tilt my head to look at him. Why should Dimitri Barkov care what I think?
“I don’t hate you for defending me. I hate that this is our reality.”
He nods as if he understands that distinction.
“Leon’s betrayal serves as a reminder that Thorne will exploit any weakness he finds.
That’s why I can’t let my guard down around you.
You’re what Thorne wants most. Keeping you safe means dedicating extra manpower, which leaves us vulnerable in other areas. ”
I look away. “So I’m a burden.”
“You’re not a burden. You’re someone we need to protect.”
The compassion in his tone rattles me more than the violence I witnessed.
I draw in a ragged breath, trying not to reveal how much that simple statement affects me.
For years, no one truly protected me. Seraphina tried, but Father always had the upper hand.
Now, Dimitri stands between me and the men who want to drag me back.
“I didn’t ask for this,” I whisper, more to myself than to him.
“I know. Neither did we.” He rises and comes to a stop near my chair. “But it’s the situation we have. Thorne won’t stop, so we have to be ready for him.”
I tilt my head to look up at him. “And if your readiness involves more bodies on the floor?”
He doesn’t flinch. “Then so be it. I’ll do whatever it takes.”
Silence stretches between us. I can still picture Leon’s final moment, the gunshot echoing in my ears. I try to reconcile that brutality with Dimitri’s unwavering intent to protect me. Somehow, I can’t view him as just another monster.
I stand, still hugging myself. “I should probably go to my room.”
“Alright. Get some rest. I’ll have one of my men stand guard outside. Let me know if you need anything.”
“Okay,” I manage as I step around him. At the doorway, I pause, glancing back. “Thanks…for stopping Leon before he could do more damage.”
He gives a slow nod. “I promise you, Cecily. I won’t let Thorne take you.”
That vow weighs on me in ways I can’t begin to describe.
I slip out of the room and head to the staircase with the lingering aftermath of Leon’s betrayal churning in my mind.
The Barkovs have shown me violence beyond anything I wanted to witness, but they’ve also shown me they won’t stand by while someone endangers me.
It’s a strange sort of balance.
I return to my suite and shut the door behind me. My pulse still races, and I doubt I’ll find rest anytime soon, but I sink onto the bed anyway. Today, I learned just how far Dimitri will go to ensure I remain out of my father’s reach. It terrifies me, but it also sparks an odd sense of gratitude.
Despite the horror I just witnessed, my father would have done far worse to me, and Leon was helping him. Dimitri made sure that particular threat won’t ever rise again. A bitter taste coats my tongue, reminding me that I shouldn’t be thankful for such violence.
Yet I am.
I lie down with my eyes fixed on the ceiling, replaying the scene in the storage room.
The shot, the look of finality on Dimitri’s face.
The swirl of conflicting emotions—revulsion, relief, fear, admiration.
I’m trapped in a world where men like Dimitri mete out ruthless justice for the sake of family.
And now I’m part of that family’s daily reality, whether I like it or not.
And through it all, my confusion about Dimitri only grows.
I’m torn between recoiling from his lethal methods and appreciating how fiercely he defends me.
I close my eyes, hoping that sleep might dull the memory of his gun firing.
Deep down, I sense this is only the beginning.
Violence begets violence in this world, and I have no idea how to free myself from it.
Yet I can’t deny that I feel safer when Dimitri stands watch.