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She motions at the red smearing my shirt, and her expression falls further. She’s in some of her fluffy sleeping pajamas that she doesn’t usually wear outside of her room.

“I’m fine. It’s just a little graze. Nothing to write home about.”

“But you were shot!”

“There’s no bullet. I didn’t even need stitches.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“I’m glad you’re all right.” Konstantin studies my surroundings. “Where’s my fucker of a brother? Shouldn’t he pay a visit?”

I suppress a smile. Konstantin wants to ask if Kirill is okay, but he vehemently refuses to say it out loud, so he chose this route as middle ground.

“He was called in by the Pakhan.”

“Is he okay?” Karina asks point-blank, definitely not as concerned about saving face as her brother.

“Yeah, don’t worry.”

She and Konstantin release a breath, and I exchange a look with both of them.

Karina clears her throat. “I don’t want anyone other than me to kill him, you understand, right?”

“I certainly do.”

“I’m just asking because if he died, you could easily become my guard,” Konstantin says.

“Dream on.”

The whole room grows silent at the newcomer’s voice.

Despite my best efforts, I can’t stop my heart from doing that slight jump or forbid my body temperature from rising.

Will there be a day when Kirill Morozov won’t flip my world upside down by merely existing?

He strolls inside, one finger hooked in his jacket that’s thrown over his broad shoulder while his other hand rests in his pocket.

It’s unfair that he’s effortlessly the most charismatic, beautiful man I’ve ever seen, and that includes actors and models.

The only difference is that they have nothing of his breathtaking intensity.

“Kirill!” Karina sprints in his direction, then stops short in front of him and hikes a hand up on her hip. “Since you’re obviously unable to protect Sasha, you should give him to me.”

“And you will protect him how, exactly?”

“I’ll hire other bodyguards!”

“That’s the most illogical thing I’ve heard today. Go back to the drawing board and let me know when you actually have an actionable, pragmatic plan.” He faces his brother. “And you. Stop asking Lipovsky to become your bodyguard.”

“He’s wasted on you.”

I wince and jump down from the bed. I’m not sure what to do or even if I could do anything to kill the tension between the two brothers, but I would rather act than watch it unfold and regret it later.

Maksim and Yuri silently slip out of the room to join Viktor outside. The traitors.

So it’s only me with siblings who have entirely different personalities, they might as well be considered polar opposites.

“The fuck did you just say?” Kirill glares at his brother, who glares back.

Now that they’re standing toe to toe, there are some similarities, but they’re not as blatant as, say, how much Karina looks like Kirill at first glance.

“You heard me.” Konstantin speaks in a calmer tone. “You’ll eventually drive him to the point of no return. It’s your modus operandi, to destroy everyone around you, no?”

“I swear to fuck, Konstantin, if you don’t stop talking, I’m going to make it my mission to actively destroy everything you and your dear mama have been building.”

Konstantin goes still, and a cruel smirk lifts Kirill’s mouth.

“You think I don’t know what you two have been up to behind my back?

If you think planning a coup to throw out Yulia’s family members who chose to help me will do me any damage, think again.

Just because I’m letting you do your thing doesn’t mean I’m in the dark.

I’m just waiting to see how far you go before I destroy you.

After all, the higher the rank, the steeper the fall.

If I choose to, I can end you both.” He snaps his fingers in front of Konstantin’s eyes. “Just like that.”

The younger brother’s face tightens and turns deep red. He lunges forward, but I step over to block his path and shake my head at him.

If he gets physical, he’ll give Kirill the incentive he’s been looking for.

It's not that Konstantin is easily provoked, it’s that Kirill riles him up more than anyone else, and he finds it hard to control his emotions when it comes to him.

Kirill strides toward the door and orders without looking back, “We’re leaving, Lipovsky.”

I offer Konstantin a reassuring nod and a smile at Karina, who’s been fidgeting during the entire exchange. After she hesitantly smiles back, I limp to catch up with Kirill.

His long legs cut through the garden at supersonic speed, making it nearly impossible to reach him.

I release a breath when I finally fall in step beside him. “You didn’t have to say that just now.”

“The way I deal with my family is none of your fucking business.”

The weight of his harsh words hits me in the chest, and I have to swallow a few times to recover from the metaphorical punch.

“Well, I’m giving my opinion anyway, since everyone else is so scared to voice theirs out loud.”

He glances down at me. “And what opinion is that?”

“You were a jerk just then. Nothing Konstantin said warranted such treatment.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. Konstantin keeps wanting to add you to his fucking band of incompetent fools, and unless he stops, I’m going to keep crushing him until there’s nothing left of him to be recognized.”

“It’s not like it’s going to happen, so I don’t see the problem.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. There are multiple problems, not only one. Now, drop it.”

“But—”

“I said. Drop. It.”

I clamp my lips shut even as I fume from the inside out. Sometimes, I truly wonder why the hell I like this man so much, to the point where I’m ready to offer my life to save his.

He’s such an asshole, and they’re nowhere near my type.

Why did he have to be the exception?

It doesn’t help that he saved me. Again . At this point, he’s protected me more times than I’ve protected him, and that’s just so backward, considering I’m the bodyguard.

One more problem. If we keep going at this rate, I’ll probably never be able to pay him back, and I’ll be indebted to him for life.

We walk silently to his room. Once we’re inside, he motions to the bathroom. “Take a shower.”

“You go first.”

He subtly pushes me. “You need to seriously stop the martyr act before I find an unorthodox way to extract it out of you.”

“I was only being nice…” I trail off when he glares at me. “What?”

“You’re not moving.”

“Fine. I’m going, I’m going.” Jeez, could he bring down the intensity a notch or something? It’s not so good for my overworked heart.

I close the bathroom door and lean against it to catch my breath. Then I remove my jacket and shirt, wincing every time I cause discomfort to my injury.

My hands tremble when I lower my pants and boxers.

Images of those men stripping me assault me. I can almost feel the repulsive thickness of that cock at my mouth. The strong smell of alcohol, cigarettes, and disgusting male musk. My skin revolts and a sandpaper-like sensation explodes at the back of my mouth.

Nausea fills my throat, and I nearly retch. I have to grip the wall for balance, or else I’ll collapse on the floor.

I was sure I was strong-minded enough not to be affected by the incident, but I clearly overestimated myself.

The feelings of being powerless and unable to stop their advances beats beneath my flesh, making my skin crawl.

I slide to the floor, entirely naked, and pull my knees to my chest.

Breathe.

You need to breathe.

It’s all over, I know that, but my brain doesn’t seem to have caught up.

A part of me is trapped in that dirty basement, unable to defend myself as they overpowered me, stripped me down, and—

“Sasha?”

I startle at Kirill’s voice coming through the door, but I can’t seem to move. “Y-yes?”

“What’s going on?”

“N-nothing.”

“You stuttered twice. You don’t stutter.”

“I’m fine. I just…need a moment.”

“Fuck that.” The door opens with a bang.

Kirill stops short to view the scene of me naked on the floor and probably looking hideous.

His expression is neutral, though, as if it’s a normal occurrence. He’s always had a strong mentality that I’ve often been envious of. Nothing fazes him, not the loss of men who were with him his whole life, his father’s death, or even his mother’s irrational hatred toward him.

Sometimes, it feels as if I’m looking at a robot in the form of a man.

A few seconds tick by as he watches my chaotic state, and then he crouches in front me. “What’s the problem?”

I shake my head.

“I swear to fuck, if you don’t start talking—” He cuts himself off and softens his voice, or as much softening as Kirill can do. “You can tell me, Sasha.”

“I…” I choke on my own words, and I have to blurt them out. “The men earlier stripped me and found out I was a woman, so they held me down and tried to…to…rape me.”

His face tightens, but his expression remains the same. “Did they?”

“No. I thought…I was going to be assaulted for sure, but then Rai helped me, and you came and…this is stupid. I shouldn’t be affected this way.”

“It’s not stupid,” he says with deceptive calm. “What do you need me to do? How can I help?”

He’s asking.

Wow. Kirill is asking how he can help.

I suppress a smile. I know he’s not the type who comforts others and that the concept is alien to him.

So the fact that he’s doing this is a huge deal, and I certainly don’t take it for granted.

“Can you…stay here?”

He sits beside me on the tiles, his back against the wall, and stretches his long legs out in front of him. “That’s it?”

“Can I hug you?”

“Since when do you ask permission for that?”

I throw myself in his arms, and all the shivering and fear from earlier fade away by his embrace.

And just like that, I know everything is going to be okay.