Page 151 of Konstantin

One hand pins my wrists above my head, holding me captive as his grip tightens. With the other, he moves slowly, dipping his finger in his own blood before dragging it across my stomach. The motion is deliberate, sending a tremor through me, every nerve igniting with the sensation.

“Moya,” he growls.

He begins drawing the letterMon me before continuing to spell out the rest of the word, each stroke igniting a deeper, darker feeling inside me.

“Mine,” he finishes, his breath hot against my ear.

My body stiffens, but I can’t move. I can’t breathe. I shudder beneath him, my pulse thundering in my ears. He owns me in this moment, in every twisted way. And I don’t know if I hate it or if I just want more.

His mouth crushes mine without warning. It’s not tender. It’s rough, frantic—like he’s trying to take everything all over again. Toask me to stay, to love him, to need him.

But can he truly want me after this?

His lips bruise against mine—demanding, searching, as though this kiss is the answer to something neither of us can say aloud.

Every nerve in my body ignites under the force of him. The warmth of his body, the heat of his touch, consumes me. He tastes of blood, sin, and destruction, and I can’t tell if I want to pull away or sink deeper into it.

But then, just as quickly as it started, he pulls back, leaving me breathless, gasping for air. My lips are throbbing and swollen, a sharp reminder of the battle that just unfolded. The echo of his kiss lingers, burning through me, even as he walks to the corner of the room and picks up some chains.

No. NO!

“Please don’t do this. I’m begging you!” My voice cracks with desperation.

He ignores me completely, grabbing my ankle and fastening one end of the chain around it, securing me to the support beam. The cold metal bites into my skin, a cruel reminder of how powerless I am in his world.

When he begins to walk away, my heart races.

“Konstantin, wait! Please, just don’t do this. Don’t leave me like this!”

A rush of thoughts hits me: maybe I should tell him. Maybe it would change everything.

But the words stay trapped inside, and I stay silent. His back is all I see as he steps away, each footfall a hammer strike on the fragile wall of my sanity.

“Konstantin!” I call after him, wild and furious, my body straining against the unforgiving metal.

But it’s useless. He doesn’t care.

The door creaks open, followed by the cold, final click of itclosing, echoing in the silence.

I’m trapped here now.

And as the desperation sinks in, the only thing left to do is figure out how to break free.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

EMILIA

It feelslike I’m suffocating in this room, the walls closing in on me. My mind races back to the moment I first met him, replaying every interaction, every glance, trying to read his reactions, his expressions. But I saw nothing. He was too good at hiding the truth. I thought I was in control, but he played me.

He knew. He knew I was a fed this whole time and still let me live. Konstantin Marinov, the man who kills people for looking at him the wrong way, let me live.

Closing my eyes, I let the ache swallow me. He cares about me, and I care for him more deeply than I ever imagined. But what happens when all of this is over?

Still, I try to focus on what truly matters right now: finding a way to escape. With his men stationed at both the front and the back, there’s no way out unless I can outsmart them.

But I have to get the hell out of here. And when the time is right,I need to look Gerardo in the eyes and hear him admit everything before I haul his ass to prison. Killing him would be too easy. He deserves to rot for the rest of his life.

My eyes flick to a small shard of wood on the ground, some broken bit of a chair or something. Sharp enough to cut.