I bolted from that room without a single glance behind me.

I ran—ran as if the devil himself were on my heels. How the hell did I end up here? And Zin... Zin, he just left me alone with that psycho. Alone. My stalker, Zin's brother, and the fucking leader of the Black Serpent—all the same twisted man.

My head was spinning, the world spinning with it. I collided with a couple of people in the club, barely registering their curses as I pushed through. My eyes searched frantically for Sasha, for Alexei.

Someone grabbed my shoulder from behind. I flinched, ready to run, but when I looked back, it was Alexei. My only safe place in this fucked-up club. I threw myself into his arms, my body trembling violently, like a leaf caught in a storm.

He pulled me in close, his arms strong and reassuring. "Viv, what happened? Where the hell were you? I've been looking everywhere for you," he murmured, rubbing my back, his touch the only thing that grounded me. Comfort. Or maybe just someone—anyone—who might save me from this nightmare.

But then, like a fucking tidal wave, the memories of what happened crashed into my mind. I jerked away from him, panic rising in my chest. Zakhar's words, his threats—those weren't empty. He would kill people to prove a point.

"I-I..." My voice faltered, thick with fear. "I wanna go home, Alex. Please."

Alexei's expression morphed into something close to panic. "Viv, what the hell happened? Did someone..."

"No... no, no," I shook my head violently. "I just—please, just take me home."

"Yeah, alright." His tone softened with concern, but I could feel the tension in him, the urgency. He grabbed Sasha, who was teetering on the edge of passing out, and ushered us both out.

He dropped me off first, his hand lingering on my arm for just a moment longer than necessary. "Sleep, okay? We'll talk tomorrow."

His voice was warm, protective, and I nodded numbly, the world feeling like it was moving too fast for me to catch up. The lights were off when I walked in. Everyone else was asleep, oblivious to the storm inside me. I closed the door softly behind me, my knees weak.

I hadn't done anything to deserve this. Not this. Not Zakhar. Tears slid down my face, hot and furious. I sank to the floor, my mind too restless to stop.

Eventually, the exhaustion hit me like a freight train, and I collapsed onto the cold floor. My body screamed for sleep, but my mind... my mind wouldn't let go of the nightmare I had just escaped.

Finally, the darkness of sleep swallowed me whole, a temporary escape from the chaos that haunted my every waking moment.

When I woke up the next morning, I was in bed, tucked under a blanket. My hand instinctively searched for my phone, which I eventually found buried beneath the covers. Unlocking it, I was greeted with a flood of messages from last night—dozens of them. I opened them one by one, dread gnawing at my chest.

Blake: "Where the hell are you? You said you'd be back before 11."
Blake: "Tell me where you are. I'll come and get you."
Alexei: "Vi, where are you? Blake called me. I covered for you. Call me or text me when you see this."

A faint smile tugged at my lips despite everything. Alexei always had my back, no matter what. Scrolling further, I saw he'd shared some of Sasha's drunken dance videos in our class group. Typical Alexei—trying to diffuse the tension with humor. But then another chat caught my eye.

Zin.

My stomach sank. Tapping the notification, I braced myself.

Zin: "Viv, I'm sorry. I had no other choice. Zakhar will do what he says. That's why I left you there."
Zin: "Are you okay?"
Zin: "What the hell did you do down there? It's dangerous, you know."
Zin: "Viv, call me when you see this."
Zin: "Where are you? Zoran said Zakhar was alone when he saw him."
Zin: "Reply, damn it."
Zin: "Vivi, I'm sorry. Please tell me you're okay."

Each message was sent at different times, the last one at 4:45 a.m. He didn't sleep at all. I wasn't ready for any drama this early, so I replied with the bare minimum:

Me: "I'm okay. At my house."

The message was read immediately. This idiot... still awake?

Zin: "I wanna see you. Can you come to the park?"

The park near my house. It's where we always met when one of us needed to talk. Usually, I couldn't say no to him. But now? I was too drained to face anyone, let alone him.

Me: "Can't. Need to talk to my brother. See you at the campus."

The read receipt appeared instantly. I sighed. Why was he so worked up? Dealing with Zakhar was definitely dangerous, but why was Zin acting like this?

Zin: "Sweetie, please."

"Fuck," I groaned, throwing my head back against the pillow. This was too much. But I gave in.

Me: "Fine. Text me when you get to the park."

Zin: "I'll be there in 20 minutes."

I groaned again, too lazy to move, but then my eyes caught another notification. A private number. My heart stopped.

That bastard.

The message read: "You shouldn't sleep on the floor, Malyshka. You'll catch a cold."

My blood turned cold. That's when it hit me. I'd fallen asleep on the floor last night. How the fuck did he get in here?

Stalker bastard. My fingers tightened around the phone.

I dragged myself out of bed slower than a goddamn snail. "I'M TIRED!" I yelled to no one in particular before shuffling over to the mirror. Big mistake. My reflection stared back at me like some sleep-deprived zombie: messy hair, a face screaming exhaustion, and eyes so puffy I looked like I'd cried an ocean. Perfect. Just what I needed—more evidence to explain away.

Yawning, I opened the door, ready to face the day—or whatever disaster awaited—but slammed it shut just as quickly. I was still wearing Sasha's party dress. Fantastic. My life was a mess, and apparently, so was my wardrobe. I yanked on my pajamas in record time and headed downstairs to the kitchen, where Aunt Irina was busy with breakfast.

"Mornin', Aunty," I mumbled, plopping into a chair at the table.

"Morning, sweetheart," she chirped, pouring coffee and setting it in front of me. Her gaze lingered on me for half a second too long before her expression twisted into alarm. "What the—" she gasped. "What the hell is this, Vivi? Did you cry?"

Shit. Right on cue.

I forced a casual shrug. "I don't know. Tried some drinks last night at the party. Need to ask Alexei the same question. When I woke up, I looked like this."

"Oh, so you're a crybaby when you're drunk?" she laughed, thankfully buying my excuse.

I gave her a half-hearted smile, gulped down the coffee, and stood up, throwing my coat over my shoulder. "I'm going for a walk, Aunty. Hangover's killing me. Need some fresh air."

"Sure, sweetheart. Be careful out there."

The moment I stepped outside, my phone buzzed. Zin.

Zin: "I'm at the park."
Me: "Coming."

I sighed, shoving my phone into my pocket. This day was already exhausting, and it had barely begun.

The walk to the park felt like an eternity. Each step was heavier than the last, my legs dragging like they were made of cement. My head throbbed, thoughts swirling in a chaotic mess I couldn't escape. I knew Zin was about to bombard me with questions, but I was in no mood for an interrogation—or his guilt. Not today.

The park came into view, and there he was, pacing near the bench where we always met. Zinoviy Kalashnikov, the ever-loyal brother of the psycho who'd shredded my life into pieces. He spotted me immediately, his shoulders dropping in relief, like my presence was the only thing that could save him.

"Viv," he called out, striding toward me.

I shoved my hands into my coat pockets, stopping just short of the bench. "Morning, Zin." My voice was flat, dripping with boredom. Maybe if I kept it cool, he wouldn't push too hard.

He frowned, his eyes scanning me like he was trying to read a book with pages missing. "You look... tired."

"No shit," I muttered, plopping down onto the bench. "What gave it away? The dark circles under my eyes or the complete lack of will to exist?"

Zin sighed, sitting beside me, close but not too close. "I'm sorry about last night." His voice was soft, almost too soft, heavy with regret. "I didn't want to leave you there, but Zakhar—"

I cut him off, holding up a hand. "Don't. Just... don't, Zin. I don't need another apology or some excuse about your brother's psychotic tendencies." My tone sliced through the air sharper than I meant, but I couldn't care less. He had no fucking clue what it felt like to be abandoned with him.

He flinched, but didn't push back. "I didn't have a choice, Viv. You don't understand what he's capable of."

"Oh, I think I have a pretty damn good idea," I snapped, my voice trembling with rage. "Your brother made that crystal clear."

Zin's jaw tightened, guilt radiating off him like a cloud. "I should've done more," he muttered, barely audible.

I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head. "Yeah, well, we all should've done a hell of a lot of things."

Silence fell between us, thick and suffocating, like I could feel the weight of his unspoken words pressing on me. His eyes were on me, searching for some kind of opening—some way to fix this mess. But it wasn't something that could be fixed. Not now.

Finally, he broke the silence, his voice barely a whisper. "Did he... hurt you?"

The question hit me like a punch to the stomach. My fists clenched in my pockets, nails digging into my palms, trying to hold it together. "No," I lied, voice barely a whisper. "Not physically, anyway."

Zin exhaled, a flicker of relief crossing his face. "Thank God."

I didn't have the energy for this—any of it. The fight, the guilt, the endless cycle of questions. So instead of snapping again, I leaned into him. My forehead pressed against his shoulder, my body sagging against his like a broken doll.

Zin froze for a moment, probably shocked by the shift, but then his arms came around me, hesitant at first, then firm and steady. His warmth was the only thing that felt real right now, even as my insides splintered apart.

"I'm too tired to argue," I murmured, my voice muffled against his jacket. "Too tired to care about any of this."

"I get it," he said softly, his hand resting on the back of my head, fingers running through my hair. "You don't have to talk. Just... stay like this for a minute."

And I did. For a brief, fleeting moment, I let myself forget everything—the party, the threats, Zakhar. I let myself pretend that Zin's arms were enough to shield me from the storm tearing my world apart.

But reality never stays away for long, does it? The weight of everything came crashing back, pressing down on me until I could barely breathe.

I pulled back, but Zin didn't let go. His hands stayed on my shoulders, his thumbs brushing softly against my collarbones. The way he looked at me—like I was a puzzle he was desperate to solve—made my chest tighten.

"Feeling better?" he asked, his voice soft but with that damn hint of humor that made my heart ache.

"Define 'better'" I said, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, you're not screaming at me or running away, so I'd say we're making progress." His grin was boyish, disarming, and for a split second, I almost forgot how fucked up everything was.

"Don't push your luck," I shot back, but my words lacked any real venom. If anything, I felt the tiniest crack in my armor, letting him in just a little more than I should have.

Zin took that as an invitation. "You know, for someone so determined to keep me at arm's length, you're doing a terrible job of it."

"Don't get used to it," I muttered, though my voice came out softer than I intended.

He tilted his head, studying me like he could see through every defense I had left. "You keep saying that, but you don't mean it. Not really."

"Zin—"

Before I could finish, he leaned in, his forehead brushing against mine. The sudden closeness made my breath catch, and for a moment, I was caught in the quiet intensity of his gaze. His eyes searched mine like he could see all the shit I was hiding.

"You're not alone in this, Viv," he murmured, his voice low, steady. "No matter how much you want to believe otherwise."

His words hit me like a goddamn wrecking ball, tearing down walls I'd spent years building. And when his lips brushed against mine—hesitant, unsure, like he was testing the waters—my body betrayed me, leaning into him instead of pulling away.

But the kiss deepened, and that's when Zakhar's voice slithered into my head, cold and threatening.

"Anyone who touches you? Anyone you touch? They'll pay for it. And trust me, their deaths will be as cruel as my patience is thin."

The air between us turned suffocating, heavy with the weight of his threat. I jerked back, pushing against Zin's chest to create as much distance as I could.

"No," I whispered, my voice trembling as I pulled away. "I can't."

Zin blinked, confusion and something darker flashing in his eyes. "Viv—"

"I'm sorry," I interrupted, shaking my head, the words slipping out before I could stop them. "I just... I can't, Zin. Not now." A nervous laugh slipped from my lips as I stepped back, trying to regain some control. "Zin, we're in public," I added, gesturing to the park around us. "You're lucky some grandma with a yappy dog isn't glaring at us right now."

Zin's lips curled into a small smirk, but his eyes darkened with disappointment. "You think I care about an audience?" he teased, his hands dropping to his sides. "I could charm even the grandma."

I rolled my eyes. "Right, because your charm is that unstoppable."

He chuckled. "It's one of my better traits. You've got to admit, I make things interesting."

"You mean complicated," I corrected, giving him a pointed look. "Don't you ever get tired of trying to break down every wall I have?"

"Never," he said easily, leaning back on the bench, his grin softening into something quieter. "But maybe I'll give you a breather for now. Just this once."

"Generous of you," I said with a wry smile, though his words—his warmth—lingered in my chest, a dangerous temptation.

He bumped his shoulder against mine, casual, but it sent a wave of guilt through me. I hadn't forgotten Zakhar's threat. His words echoed in my mind.

"Their deaths will be cruel."

I turned to Zin, forcing a grin. "You know, for a guy who doesn't take no for an answer, you're surprisingly good at pretending you're not hurt."

"I'm not pretending," he shot back, mock-offended, though a small twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed him. "I'm resilient. Like a rubber band."

"Rubber bands snap, you know," I pointed out.

"Not this one," he retorted, eyes twinkling. "So, don't go testing it, Viv."

I laughed softly, shaking my head. "You're impossible."

"And yet, you're still here," he said, his voice light, but there was something heavier in it that made my chest tighten.

I stood up abruptly, brushing imaginary dust off my pants. "I think I've had enough of your charm for one day."

"Running away again?" he asked, standing too, but there was no malice in his voice—only that damn grin.

"Walking away," I corrected, stepping back. "There's a difference."

"Sure there is." He tucked his hands into his pockets, watching me with amusement. "But I'll let you have that one."

As I started to leave, he called after me, his voice teasing but warm. "Don't be a stranger, Viv."

I turned back, forcing a smile. "You're lucky I'll be back. Don't get too used to the privilege."

Zin watched me leave, his grin still lingering, but in his eyes? There was something else—something far more serious.

I turned back, forcing a smile, and walked away. But as soon as I was out of his line of sight, the smile slipped from my face, vanishing like it was never there. I rounded the corner, my feet moving automatically, trying to put some distance between me and everything that was suffocating me.

Then, my legs froze. A cold, familiar presence pierced the air, and my heart dropped.

"What are you doing here?" My voice was low.

He stood there, as if he owned the damn street, eyes burning with a rage I could feel from here. "I could ask you the same thing. What the hell are you doing here? With him?" His tone was vicious, dripping with accusation. "I told you to stay the fuck away from him."

I could feel the heat rising in my chest, my pulse pounding in my ears. The air between us thickened, heavy with tension. I swallowed hard, the words threatening to choke me. How long was I going to be trapped in this nightmare?

How long before I could escape the suffocating grip of everyone else's expectations?