Page 191 of Mafia and Scars

The numbers and scoring in my head are causing chaos inside of me. I’m spiraling. And maybe I’m starting to think it would be better for her if…she found someone who could give her that ten-out-of-ten feeling.

I don’t know if this is what other people mean when they talk about love driving them crazy.

All I know is that it feels like both a gift and a countdown clock.

And I’m not sure which will run out first.

CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

AVELINA

It’s three weeks since we returned to the Kremlin. And I start to notice something.

I notice it first in the small things. The way he stays back when we’re out in the garden, instead of joining me and the kids. How his hands stay in his pockets more often. The way he’s distracted. It’s the quiet distance of someone in their head.

Viktor’s never been loud with his emotions. But he’d never hidden from me either.Not like this.

At first, I tell myself it’s nothing.

Maybe he’s tired or stressed about work.

But the pattern keeps repeating.

I can’t pretend it’s not bothering me. That the silence isn’t eating away at me. It’s not just the garden. He’s quieter at meals. Slower to reach for my hand. There’s no sharp edge to it, but the absence of his presence is heavier than any fight we could ever have.

I catch myself studying him when he’s distracted. The way hisshoulders stay tense when he’s sitting still. The way his eyes fix on some invisible point across the room as if he’s trying to calculate something.

Finally, I decide enough is enough.

When I step into the sunlight, Viktor’s crouched near the far fence line, his hands busy with something I can’t see. He doesn’t look up when I approach, which is unusual. He always notices me first.

“Viktor.”

He pauses, setting his trowel down to finally look at me. “Yeah?”

“Can we talk?” I step closer. “You’ve been…somewhere else lately. Avoiding me.”

His brow furrows. “I’m not avoiding you. We saw each other at breakfast.”

“It feels like you are. And I’ve been watching you for the last week or so…”

Something shifts in his eyes, just a flicker, but it’s enough to tell me I’ve hit some kind of truth.

He stays silent long enough that I almost think he’s going to get up and walk away.

Then he exhales, slow and deliberate like he’s weighing the cost of the words.“I don’t think I can give you what you need, Avelina.”

It’s not the words I want to hear. I keep quiet, letting him explain in his own time.

“I’ve been trying to figure it all out. What people mean when they talk about…love. Not just the word. The feeling. Everyone says it’s supposed to be overwhelming. Consuming. Like your mind and entire body know at the same time.”

“And you don’t…feel that, Viktor?”

His jaw works before he shakes his head. “Not the way other people describe it. For me…” He clears his throat. “For me, it’s like numbers. Levels. I can measure how much I want to keep someone safe. But it’s not a ten. Not in the way people talk about.”

My heart twists—because I can hear the frustration in his voice. This isn’t about him not caring.It’s about him not believing that what he feels is enough.

“Viktor,” I say, gently resting my hand on his one. “Love isn’t a number.”