Page 35 of Darkest Craving

VICTORIA

S ix days have passed. Maybe—I don’t even know. Each day merges into a vacuum of futility, and I’m just a soul being dragged along aimlessly. If I were dead, I wouldn’t know the difference.

I wake up, I look for him, he doesn’t come. He never comes back for me.

The hardest part is leaving this room—the one he locked me in when I first arrived.

Because I know what’s out there, beyond these walls.

A house void of him, of his presence, of everything I loved.

A house that breathes with malice, in which I can’t trust a single soul.

He was right when he told me he was my only ally. I didn’t listen.

The rubies he gifted me on my birthday stare back at me from the vanity.

Sunrays swim in the red of them, luring me in like sirens.

I get out of bed, approach them, and stretch out my fingers until they’re in my hand.

I bring them to my face, inhaling what’s left of his perfume from when he held them.

They used to smell like him, and I used to hate it because it reminded me I belonged to a monster.

Now I crave him on me—on my skin, on my lips, everywhere…

I stretch out the necklace, bringing it to my neck, watching myself in the mirror. Seeing what I used to look like when I was his. But when tears blur my vision, I put it back on the desk, my head lowered under the weight of the hollow space in my heart.

The only thing keeping me going is finding out whether or not he fixed my mess and got himself the throne he earned.

I haven’t heard anything of such, but then again, no one talks to me anymore.

Either they know what I’ve done and they’re avoiding me…

or he told them they’re supposed to just tolerate me.

I’m hoping for the latter, because that would mean he did it out of hate. Not indifference. And I’d rather burn under his rage than wither away slowly knowing he no longer cares.

I pull a hoodie over my body, feeling the chill of what’s looking to be a cloudy day. My stomach grumbles, begging for food, but I ignore it. I don’t know why I’m doing it—maybe it’s easier to feel any kind of physical pain than the loss I carry with me.

Outside the room, my eyes land on the door in front of me—of the bedroom we used to share.

He’s probably not in there, but I still can’t muster the courage to walk back in time and see it, to remember what we used to do in there.

So I just breathe and walk away until I’m on the ground floor, and hearing voices.

I flinch, not wanting to be seen, and especially not wanting to see the woman who started all of this.

I yelled at Ekaterina after the fight with Wolfgang. Got her to confess she was just using me. Turns out she was happy to stop pretending. She told me I was on their side now, and I told her to go to hell. If I meet her again, I’ll cause another scene.

Ultimately, I chose to betray my husband—and I’m owning that. But even if she didn’t force me to do it, she’s fucking heinous. She put this whole thing in motion, and I fell right into her trap.

Thankfully, she’s not here. But my heart skips a beat when I see Ivan in the door frame reading something on his phone. He’s not my husband, but seeing him here means Wolf is close by. That I’m somewhere in his proximity, where I can breathe a little easier. Pretend he’s still mine.

“What can I do for you?” Ivan asks, without taking his eyes off his phone.

“I… is Wolfgang around?”

He looks up. “He is.”

“I need to see him. Is he in his study?”

He considers it, watching me in silence as I wait, my breath held tight in my lungs. I haven’t seen him in so long. It aches not to be near him. But the look Ivan throws me next—of pity, of powerlessness over the situation—shows me he was already instructed of what to say if this ever happened.

“I’m sorry, Victoria—”

“Why aren’t you with Kiril? I messaged you,” my husband’s voice cuts him off from somewhere to my left.

He passes me by like a dark silhouette, each step deliberate, filled with control.

The trail of his subtle perfume strangles me.

His name clings to my tongue, tasting bittersweet.

I swallow, eyes trained on him—only on him.

Please forgive me , they tell him. But he won’t even spare me a glance.

“Sorry, boss. I was just on my way now.”

Ivan leaves, and before Wolf follows him out, I get his attention.

“Wolf… please, we need to talk.”

To my surprise, he turns to me, but there’s nothing of him that I remember. He looks at me the same way he looks at everyone else now. Like I’m just one of his subjects.

“Tell me how I can make this right,” I whisper.

“You want to make things right? Then stop making my men late when I need them.”

I blink, feeling the sting of his words everywhere. I bet he sees it—the pain written all over my face. But he still turns and walks away. And I think… I think for the first time ever, he doesn’t see me as his wife… or his pawn in a revenge game. He sees me as a mistake.

Although every atom in my body wants me to retreat, to hide in a corner and cry, I rush after him and grab his hand. He halts, and when his eyes slide over to me, fire blasts through them. All for me.

“Please…”

“Say it. Say what you did.”

I grip his hand tighter, whispering, “I–I betrayed you. And I’m so…”

He shakes his head, snorting an incredulous laugh.

“You’re not even willing to give me a confession, yet you beg for my forgiveness.”

I grind my teeth together in shame. There’s so much shame coursing through me right now, when he looks at me. He’s right. I can’t give him a confession, because even I can’t believe how much I hurt him. Neither of us can.

“I told Ekaterina…” I say, my body weakening, barely standing up.

“I told her you lied to your father, because you said you couldn’t afford any screw ups.

I told her that, and she told him, so that you’d never get…

” I choke on almost every word, holding on to him so I don’t fall.

“So that you’d never get your throne. And I m-made a mistake. I lost you. I lost you. I lost…”

I sob, covering my face with my hands, dropping to my knees. I sob, and I break, and I swim in my own pain, hearing the sound of his shoes as he walks away.

I thought I knew pain before, that I had lived through plenty of it throughout my life. But nothing—absolutely nothing compares to the kind I’m feeling now. It’s excruciating. And it keeps on growing inside me, like a demon making a home of me, turning every chamber of my heart into hell.

“…you,” I murmur, even though I know he’s no longer here to hear it. “I lost you.”

***

Hours later, I’m back in bed, staring into nothingness. The room is dark, cold even, a gentle rain splattering on my closed windows. I guess summer is really ending.

I’ve cried so much the past week that there are no more tears left in me.

I turn on my left side, letting my eyes close.

Hoping sleep will grab me faster tonight.

But when I do, a muted thud downstairs makes me open them back.

The house is always so silent—nothing ever happens inside.

It strikes me as odd, but who knows? Maybe someone dropped something, and that’s what the sound was.

Except it wasn’t, because it happens again.

Angry voices come with it, one of which I recognize. Ivan. And maybe Kiril… and some other men all barging into the house. I get up on my arms, the sheets shifting with me. Something is wrong.

Are we being attacked again? I didn’t hear any gunshots.

Draping my legs over the mattress, I jolt out of bed and open the door, peering into the semi-lit hallway that captures some of the lights from downstairs.

The voices pour in more clearly now—and they sound agitated.

Not angry, but… desperate. Curses follow almost every other word, and panic grips me when I start making sense of what this is.

“Get me a fucking doctor!” someone shouts.

A loud groan overpowers the voice. “I said no. Get out. All of you! Out!”

I don’t wait to hear more. I bolt down the stairs, expecting the worst. And when my bare feet touch the last stair, I see him around the corner. A whimper leaves my chest at the blood on my husband’s body as he lies there on the floor with a grimace of pain.

I rush toward him, pushing large, solid bodies away as best I can.

“Victoria… don’t,” Ivan says, extending an arm forward to stop me. He can try all he wants. I’m not going anywhere, no matter what threats he wants to make. “You have to leave.”

I look him dead in the eye. “I’m his wife! You’re insane if you think I’m leaving him. What the hell happened?!”

He runs a bloody hand through his hair, cursing out loud.

“We were attacked, and then… he just went fucking crazy, all by himself. He got shot, and now he won’t let us call a doctor.”

“Call the doctor,” I say, leaving no room for debate. “ Now , Ivan. And take everyone out.”

I don’t know what else happens around us because the moment I shift my focus to Wolf, everything else fades away. His face has new cuts, lines in which the blood is still fresh but stagnant. His eyes are closed, but he’s breathing. Grunting as he pushes into the floor, trying to get himself up.

“Tell them no,” he says. “No doctor. The bullet only grazed me.”

I shake my head, my vision blurring at seeing him in this state.

“A doctor is coming,” I snap. “You’re not dying. You hear me? Be mad at me all you want, but you are not dying!”

The faintest smile pulls at the corner of his lip. He groans, and more panic floods me.

“Wolf, what did you do? What did you do…?” I put my shaky hands on him, gently, so I can unbutton his shirt and see exactly where he was shot. “You’re bleeding too much,” I whisper.

He doesn’t say anything.

But then his eyes finally open—and for the first time in days, he doesn’t just look at me. He finally sees me again.