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I jolt awake, my heart hammering against my ribs like it's trying to escape. Sweat plasters my pajamas to my skin and I gasp for air, the nightmare still clinging to me like it’s happening all over again. The violent images from the store flash through my mind in vivid, terrifying detail.

"It wasn't real," I whisper to myself, willing my racing pulse to slow. "You're safe now."

But am I really? The memory of Denis's cold, merciless eyes as he beat those men to death sends a shiver down my spine. They were living, breathing human beings, and he turned them into corpses. Denis became a stranger to me when he bashed their heads in and slit their throats open—not the thoughtful, kind man I've come to care for.

Pushing myself up, I perch on the edge of the bed and stare at the curtains. Pale morning light filters through the fabric. I try to focus on the gentle play of light and shadow, anything to quiet the chaos in my head.

"Get it together, Natalia," I mutter, running a hand through my tangled blonde curls. "You can't fall apart now."

But the internal conflict rages on. How can I reconcile the Denis I know—the one who helped me set up my career and listens attentively to my silly stories—with the ruthless murderer I witnessed? The duality is dizzying.

What else is he capable of when angry?

I wrap my arms around myself, seeking comfort. "Maybe there's an explanation," I say softly, trying to convince myself. "Maybe…"

But the image of blood spattered across the store floor flashes in my mind, silencing my feeble attempts at rationalization. I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the memory away.

***

One morning, I pad down the hallway, my footsteps muffled by the plush carpet. As I approach the dining room, the sound of my brothers' voices drifts out, their conversation abruptly halting as I enter. The sudden silence is deafening.

"Good morning," I say, trying to inject some cheer into my voice. It falls flat, even to my own ears.

Nikolai's eyes meet mine. He’s concerned and I can tell from the furrow of his brow. "How did you sleep, Natalia?" he asks gently.

I force a smile, but it feels more like a grimace. "Oh, you know… like a baby." The lie tastes bitter on my tongue.

Dima offers me a reassuring smile. "Come sit, little sister. I saved you some blini."

As I slide into my usual chair, I can feel their eyes on me, gauging my mood. Their scrutiny makes my skin prickle.

"You guys can stop staring," I mutter, reaching for the plate of blini. "I'm not going to shatter into a million pieces."

Nikolai clears his throat. "We're just worried about you, that's all.”

I'm about to retort when Sofia sweeps into the room, her presence immediately lightening the atmosphere. "Good morning, my darlings!" she trills, making a beeline for me. "Natalia, Solnyshko , how are you feeling today?"

Before I can answer, she's pressing a warm mug of tea into my hands. "I added a touch of honey, just how you like it," she says with a wink.

I can't help but smile, genuinely this time. "Thanks, Sofia. You're a lifesaver."

She pulls up a chair next to me and fills up her plate. A slow silence falls across the room.

A few moments later, Fedor clears his throat. “Denis called today, by the way.”

Every head snaps in his direction.

“And four times yesterday,” Artyom adds, looking wary of my reaction.

The mention of Denis's name sends a pang through my chest. I can't deny the complex feelings swirling inside me—the fear, the confusion, and a strange sense of longing that I can't quite comprehend.

Fiddling with a piece of blini, I muster up the courage to ask, "What… What did he say?"

Sofia exchanges a glance with Nikolai before speaking up. "He wanted to make sure you were okay, Natalia. He's worried about you."

“Like hell he is,” I say under my breath. But from the glances my siblings exchange, something tells me they disagree.

***

Another week passes by, and it’s just the same. The house is loud. Nikolai, Dima, Fedor, Sofia, and Artyom keep coming and going from my room, always in the process of asking for something or bringing something.

But they’re only checking in on me. I hear muffled conversations and phones ringing.

One afternoon, I hear Fedor. “She’s pretty shaken up still, Denis,” he says.

I immediately step forward. Denis. He’s on the line. To know he’s on the other line—so close within reach—makes me feel strange. I want to just hear his voice, but there’s nothing to be said.

Fedor notices me and points at the phone, his eyes widening with surprise at the thought that I may ask to speak to him.

In the background, I hear Denis through the receiver. “Fedor? Is it her? Is she there?”

His voice. Oh god, his voice. So sweet, so … familiar. But the image of him covered in blood flashes through my mind. I shake my head, hold back tears, and run back to my room.

***

That evening, for some reason, I clutch my pillow and pretend it’s Denis. There’s an actual, physical ache in my chest from the loneliness that encompasses me.

The confusion is the worst. What am I doing? What do I want? What’s the plan?

Is it to stay here with my brothers… forever? Is it to never see Denis again? That idea seems unimaginable. The thought of not having a future with him seems incomprehensible.

The tears pour down, fast and rapid, and I barely even feel them. I miss him, oh god, I miss him. But did I ever know the real Denis?

Just then, there’s a soft knock on my door.

“Come in,” I say, in a choked voice.

The door creaks open. I turn to see Sofia there, a tray in her hands.

“Oh, Darling,” she cries out loud, rushing over. She sets the tray down and gently wipes away the tears. “We were wondering why you didn’t come down for dinner. Everything okay?”

I clutch the pillow tighter to my chest and sit up straight, making some space for Sofia. She perches herself on the edge of my bed, her hand now clasped over mine.

I sob and sob and sob. She just sits there in silence, letting the emotions sweep over me.

“I think I just need to sleep,” I say at last, unable to explain the basic truth: I miss Denis, but I can’t bear to go back to him.

“I think that’s a good idea, Sweetheart,” Sofia says. She gently brushes her lips to my forehead and stands up.

“Eat a little, will you?” she points at her tray.

I nod and sniffle, missing Denis more than anything else. It’s a strange sense of longing, despite all that I saw, that I can't quite comprehend.

I watch her walk away, and then at the door, she pauses.

"He did what he had to do back at the store, Natalia," Sofia says, her tone gentle yet firm. "Those men were a threat to you, and Denis eliminated that threat to protect you. If he didn't act, who knows what might have happened? We could have lost you or him. You must understand, that sometimes, it’s kill or be killed in this world."

Her words linger in the air, heavy with unspoken truths. My mind races, trying to make sense of it all. Denis killed to protect me, and had he not, we could have been the ones dead.

With Sofia’s words playing through my mind—he did what he had to to protect me—memories resurface; the fierce protectiveness in his gaze, the way he held me when we were followed at the fashion show, the way he made every dream come true.

Can I reconcile these two sides of him? My heart says I could, with time.

Do I want to? My heart screams out a resounding yes.

By keeping him away, I’m not only torturing him but suffering myself. God, how I miss him. Perhaps, with a little time, we can move forward.

With a shuddering breath, I grab my phone on an impulse.

My fingers hover over Denis's name, trembling slightly. I take a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. "Come on, Natalia," I mutter to myself. "You can do this. Just call him."

But what will I say? The words I've rehearsed in my head suddenly seem inadequate. How do I tell him I need space without pushing him away completely? That I'm scared.

"Hey, Denis," I practice, my voice barely above a whisper. "I just wanted to talk about… everything." I cringe. God, that sounds lame.

I'm about to hit the call button when Sofia bursts into the garden, her face pale and eyes wide. "Natalia!" she gasps, out of breath. "There's been an attack on Denis's headquarters!"

The world tilts sideways. My phone slips from my hand, clattering onto the stone path. "What?" I choke out, my heart suddenly racing. "Is Denis—"

"We don't know," Sofia says, her voice tight with worry. "Your brothers just got the news. They're gathering in the living room now because the Zolotovs need some backup. Things are bad, Nat."

My mind spins with terrifying possibilities. Denis, hurt. Or worse. The thought makes me physically ill. "But he's okay, right?" I plead, even though I know Sofia can't answer. "He has to be okay."

I stumble to my feet, my legs shaky. "We have to do something," I say, my voice stronger than I feel. "We can't just sit here while he's in danger."

Sofia nods, her expression grim. "Come on," she says, taking my arm. "Let's go see what your brothers have planned."

As we hurry toward the house, I can't shake the image of Denis's face from my mind. Please, I think desperately. Please let him be alright.

***

My heart pounds as I follow Sofia through the house, each step bringing a new realization crashing over me. The fear coursing through my veins isn't just concern for a friend or an obligation to my husband. It's something deeper, more primal. I love him. The thought hits me like a punch to the gut, stealing my breath.

"Oh god," I whisper, stumbling slightly. Sofia steadies me with a worried glance, but I barely notice. My mind races, memories flashing by in rapid succession. Denis's protective embrace, his gentle touch, the way his gray eyes soften when they meet mine. How could I have been so blind?

"I love him," I murmur, the words feeling strange and perfect on my tongue. "I actually love him."

Sofia squeezes my arm, her voice gentle. "I know, Sweetheart. I've seen it growing between you two."

We reach the living room, and I burst through the door without hesitation. My brothers look up, their faces etched with worry and determination. Nikolai is pacing, phone in hand, while Dima leans over a laptop, brow furrowed in concentration.

"I'm coming with you," I announce, my voice steadier than I expected. "Whatever you're planning to help Denis, I need to be there."

Artyom shakes his head. "Natalia, it's too dangerous. We can't risk—"

"I don't care," I interrupt, my tone leaving no room for argument. "I love him. Do you understand? I love him, and I won't sit here wondering if he's hurt or… or worse." My voice cracks on the last word, but I push on. "Please, let me help. I need to be there for him."

The room falls silent, my brothers exchanging loaded glances. I hold my breath, praying they'll understand. After what feels like an eternity, Nikolai nods slowly.

"Okay," he says, his voice gruff. "But you stay close to us, and you follow every order without question. Got it?"

I nod vigorously, relief and determination flooding through me. "I promise. Thank you."