Page 42 of Cruel Russian King

A soft knock broke the silence.

“Come in,” I barked.

Ninel entered. Her cheeks were hollow, dark circles shadowed her red, puffy eyes, and her dark hair fell over her shoulders, making her look even paler.

My fingers tightened around the pen and I heard it crack under the pressure. She looked like a damn corpse.

I wanted to rush to her, but I forced myself to stay seated, clasping my hands together…waiting.

“I just wanted to thank you for the paintings,” she said, her voice monotone.

She didn’t move, just stood there, hands clasped behind her back.

“Anything else?” I asked.

“I want to see my family. I miss them. I want to know how they’re doing.”

“No. Anything else?”

“Why not?” Her silver eyes glared like fucking molten lava.

“Because I control who you see. And right now, you’re not allowed to see them.”

“Then my hunger strike continues.”

I leaned back and shrugged. “I could force-feed you.”

“And I’d force myself to bring it up. I hope you’re ready to explain to the brotherhood how your wife died in your house,” she snapped.

I clenched my teeth. I had no doubt she would do it.

“So, you’re willing to become a martyr?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Then so be it.”

She stepped out of the office, but instead of slamming the door, she left it wide open. I rose, shut it myself, and returned behind my desk.

A defiant wife was one problem. My siblings were another. My relationship with them had changed. Zahkar and Yegor now only spoke to me when necessary. That suited me well enough. As long as the faction ran smoothly, what they did with their feelings was their concern, not mine. When I stopped by the family mansion to collect a file, Kira made her stanceclear. She didn’t say a word, just glared, then turned her back on me.

The next three days escalated. More attacks, more blood spilled. Kolya reported the Safin faction had taken hits as well. Ruslan kept me updated on Ninel. She still refused to eat, still locked herself away in the bedroom. I gave him permission to check on her three times a day, to confirm she was alive, nothing more.

After another hit, I got home after midnight, needing a few clean suits for the headquarters office. When I stepped into the bedroom, I stopped short. The bathroom door was wide open, and Ninel’s upper body was sprawled on the carpet, unconscious.

“Fucking hell…”

Heart pounding, I picked her up. She felt fragile in my arms, and looked worse than the last time I saw her.

You should've left her there, Artie. She took her stance, you should've stuck with yours. I ruled your mother with an iron fist. Learn to do the same with your damn wife.

Despite how my father thought I should treat my marriage. I knew this shit had gone far enough.

I laid her on the bed and called the doctor, informing him of her little hunger strike. Within the hour, he arrived, and set up an IV. She didn't even stir. He said she’d be fine by morning, that she should eat in small portions for the next few days. Then, he left.

After he was gone, I sat back in the armchair, watching her.

Ninel dying because she’d been denied something I could easily give her was not an option. I wouldn’t allow it.