Page 116 of Ruthless Addiction

The water swallowed him with barely a splash. His body moved with effortless grace beneath the surface, cutting clean arcs, powerful and relentless. Every stroke reminded me how much he dominated space—and life.

Jealousy twisted sharper. What if Seraphina’s room overlooked this? What if she appeared now, drawn by the same restlessness that always seemed to follow him?

Seconds stretched. His head remained submerged. Long seconds, far too many.

Panic clawed at me.

He wouldn’t drown himself—not intentionally. But accidents happened. Or games. He loved both.

The rational part of my mind screamed at me to wait, to call out, to reason. But instinct, the raw, frantic pulse of fear, overrode everything else.

I stepped from my hiding spot, jeans cold against wet stone, sweatshirt clinging to my skin. “Dmitri!” I called, voice sharp, echoing across the glass walls.

Silence.

No ripple. No splash. Only the soft lap of water against the pool edge.

I swallowed hard, the fear gnawing, the jealousy and desire twisting inside me in a confusing, dangerous knot. And then, without another thought, without hesitation, I dove. Jeans, sweater, everything.

The water swallowed me with a cold shock, pulling me into its depths.

The shock of cold water slammed into me like a physical blow, ripping the air from my lungs. The pool was far deeper than I’d imagined—an endless, yawning blue that swallowed sound and light alike. My eyes burned as I forced them open underwater, searching wildly for any sign of him.

Nothing.

Just depth. Silence. The vast, indifferent weight of water.

Panic detonated in my chest. My lungs screamed almost immediately, a sharp, frantic burn that made my body thrash on instinct alone. I had never been a strong swimmer—never trusted water that couldn’t be crossed on foot—and the denim clinging to my legs dragged me down like iron chains. Every kick felt useless. Every stroke only seemed to pull me deeper.

I tried to reach the surface. Tried to scream.

Water rushed into my mouth when I gasped, cold and brutal, choking me. My limbs grew clumsy, uncooperative, the terror blurring into something dull and frighteningly distant.

No.

Not like this.

Not now.

Vanya’s face flashed through my mind—his smile, his small hand curled in mine. I clawed weakly at the water, rage and fear tangling as my vision darkened at the edges. I had survived too much. I had earned my life back.

And then—

Arms wrapped around my waist.

Strong. Unyielding. Certain.

I felt myself surge upward, lifted with devastating ease. We broke the surface together, water exploding around us as I sucked in air, coughing violently, my body shaking as breath tore back into my lungs in ragged, desperate gulps.

Dmitri held me effortlessly, one arm locked around my middle as he treaded water for both of us. His chest rose and fell steadily beneath my hands, powerful and controlled—nothing like my own frantic heaving. Wet hair clung to his forehead, droplets tracking down the sharp lines of his face, catching moonlight as they fell.

He looked unreal like this. Dangerous. Beautiful. Elemental.

My soaked clothes plastered me to him, and there was no mistaking the hard planes of his body against mine—his chest, his thighs, the unmistakable heat of him pressed flush against me. A shiver tore through me, sharp and traitorous, carrying nothing of cold and everything of memory.

“I—I was worried,” I rasped, coughing again as I tried, feebly, to put space between us.

His grip tightened instead.