Sometimes, I closed my eyes and pretended I was back there.

Sunlight filtered through the trees, my mom's laugh echoing in the distance. My dad's voice was steady as he guided us along the trail, always keeping an eye on me even as he let me run ahead. He used to say I was too curious for my own good, but his words were soft, warm, laced with the kind of love that made me feel invincible.

"Stay close, Viv," he'd say, and I'd roll my eyes, pretending I didn't hear the worry in his voice. But I'd always come back. I never wanted to be far from him.

I used to watch him with my mom, the way his gaze lingered on her when he thought no one was looking, the way his hand always found hers as if the world might take her away if he let go. My mom used to laugh at him for it, teasing him about being overprotective, but I understood. Even at fourteen, I understood that my dad loved her so deeply it scared him. And he loved me the same way-so fiercely, so completely, that I never doubted I was safe.

But safety was a lie. And so was love.

The sunlight in my dream dimmed, the colors bleeding into something darker, harsher. My dad's voice wasn't steady anymore. It was panicked, sharp like a whip. "Vivian, stay close!" I turned, but he wasn't smiling. His face was pale, his eyes darting toward the shadows that suddenly felt too close, too alive.

The laughter I had heard moments ago twisted into screams. My mom's voice, once so soft and full of life, shattered into a choked sob, a sound I couldn't unhear no matter how hard I tried. My legs froze, the ground beneath me turning to quicksand. I couldn't move. I couldn't run.

"Vivian, run!"

But I didn't. I couldn't. My dad's hand shot out toward me, his eyes wide with fear-and then he was gone. Pulled into the shadows, his cry cut short. Blood sprayed across the leaves, bright and stark against the green. My mom screamed my name, but when I turned, her face wasn't hers anymore. It was twisted, bruised, her mouth frozen in a silent plea as rough hands dragged her into the darkness. I reached for her, but the hands found me too-cold, unrelenting, pulling me under.

"MOM!" I gasped, jerking upright. The scream lodged in my throat, burning like acid, and my chest heaved as I clawed at the sheets, struggling to breathe. The room was dark, too quiet, but the dream lingered, its claws sinking into my skin, dragging me back to the horrors I couldn't escape.

"Shh." The voice came from the shadows, low and steady, but it didn't calm me. It froze me. My head snapped toward the corner of the room, where Zakhar stood, his silhouette sharp against the faint light seeping through the curtains.

"You're awake," he said, his voice calm, almost soothing, but I could hear the undertone of amusement. He stepped forward, the click of his boots against the floorboards a reminder that there was no escaping him, not even in my sleep.

The air between us thickened, suffocating, as Zakhar crouched beside the bed, his presence inescapable. His gaze didn't waver, dark and unrelenting, and I felt like prey cornered by a predator who enjoyed watching the fear bloom in my eyes. But what terrified me even more was that I could do nothing to escape it. To escape him.

"Do you know how often you screamed in your sleep?" he asked, his tone deceptively soft, dripping with something darker. The kind of softness that sent shivers crawling down my spine, not because it was kind, but because it was laced with malice. "Every night, Malyshka. I've heard it. Seen it. You thrashed, you cried, and sometimes..." His smile curved into something cruel, his teeth flashing like a wolf's. "You called for me."

The words hit me like a slap, sharp and cold, leaving me stunned. My stomach twisted, nausea rising at the thought. "Y-you've been... watching me?" My voice barely broke above a whisper, and the taste of shame in my mouth was enough to make me gag.

"Of course." He said it so simply, like it was the most natural thing in the world. His gaze never left me, his eyes unblinking, studying my every movement, every tremor. "You're fascinating when you're asleep, you know that?" he murmured, leaning in, his breath warm against my ear. "So vulnerable. So honest. Your fears, your pain... you couldn't hide them from me. Not in the dark."

Panic swelled in my chest, rising like a tidal wave. The room was closing in on me. His words were suffocating. His presence was suffocating. I instinctively pulled the blanket closer, trying to shield myself, but Zakhar wasn't the kind of man who allowed barriers to stand. His hand shot out like a snake's strike, tugging the fabric away with a single motion, leaving me exposed, trembling, bare.

"Don't," I whispered, my voice breaking, a plea, but it only seemed to fuel his amusement. His grin stretched wider, a sharp, predatory thing.

"Don't what, Malyshka?" His voice was low, deep, almost teasing in the way it rumbled through the room. "Don't look at you? Don't touch you?" His hand brushed against my arm, not rough, but possessive, like he was reminding me that every inch of me already belonged to him, whether I acknowledged it or not. Whether I wanted it or not.

"I..." The words died in my throat, caught in the knot of fear and confusion that had settled there. I couldn't pull away. I couldn't do anything. Zakhar leaned in, his face so close I could feel his breath on my skin, his eyes devouring me. "I love how you can't fight it," he murmured, his voice heavy with dark satisfaction. "How you're afraid. It's like watching a puzzle come together, piece by piece. I enjoy seeing you like this-small, trembling, knowing you can't escape."

My heart pounded in my chest, each beat a reminder that he controlled me-he had the power to crush me, to break me, and somehow I kept allowing it. Kept sinking deeper into this nightmare where I was too afraid to fight him and too weak to pull away. My body betrayed me every time.

"Do you know what I love most about your nightmares?" he continued, his voice lowering further, as if savoring the moment. "It's how they remind you of your place. That no matter how much you try to push me away, you always wake up helpless. Afraid. Weak."

The words cut deep, deeper than anything before. They lodged themselves inside me, twisting, gnawing at the last remnants of pride I had left. How was he right? How did he know exactly what I feared-what I felt-without me saying a word?

I didn't answer him, but he didn't need an answer. Zakhar knew he had me exactly where he wanted me: trapped, terrified, at his mercy. And somehow, I wasn't sure I wanted to escape. Not from him. Not from the way he made me feel both powerless and... alive.

"I could make it stop, you know," he said, his voice smooth and coaxing, like a serpent whispering promises. "The nightmares. The screaming. All of it."

I swallowed hard, my throat dry, and the word escaped my lips before I could stop it. "How?" I hated how weak I sounded, but the question had already been asked. I couldn't take it back.

Zakhar's smile returned, slow and deliberate, as though he'd been waiting for this moment. Waiting for me to break. To fall into his trap. "All you have to do," he whispered, his thumb brushing against my trembling lips, "is stop fighting me. Let me take care of you, Malyshka. Let me show you that your fear is wasted on them... when it should all belong to me."

The words clung to my skin like poison. I didn't understand why my heart raced faster, why my breath hitched, why I couldn't pull away, but I knew one thing: Zakhar didn't just want to break me. He wanted me to give him everything-my fear, my weakness, everything I hated about myself-and in return, he would be the one thing I couldn't resist. The only thing I couldn't escape. He wanted me to need him.

I closed my eyes, not out of defiance, but because the dark corners of my mind were where he lived, where his voice echoed like a heartbeat. I felt his weight on me. I didn't know it then, but I was already giving him what he wanted. And I wouldn't even realize it until it was too late.

My eyes slowly peeled open, blinking against the harsh light that stabbed through the window. I squirmed, wriggled around on the bed, my body reluctant to face the day. Finally, I pushed myself up and stumbled to the mirror.

Same sleepy face, same messy hair-nothing had changed. It had been a week since I got that goddamn text from Zakhar. A whole fucking week. And I was still holed up at my uncle's place, avoiding everyone, refusing to speak to anyone. I couldn't bring myself to eat here. I grabbed a sandwich on the way to the university, ate lunch in the cafeteria, and dinner? That was at work, or sometimes I just skipped it entirely, pretending fasting would do me some good.

I pulled my hair back, twisting it into a messy bun, but my eyes-reluctantly-fell to the fucking hickey on my neck. Shit, shit, shit.

No. Not here.

The memories of last night crashed into me like a freight train. Zakhar.

"Fuck, I don't even own a turtleneck." I muttered under my breath. "I'm gonna kill that bastard."

I glared at my reflection in the mirror, disgust boiling in my gut. I wanted to spit on my own fucking face for how weak, how vulnerable I always felt when he was near. How much control he had over me without even trying.

I got ready for my classes, steeling myself for the next step-sneaking out of the house without running into any of them. But the moment I reached the bottom of the stairs, my uncle's voice cut through my thoughts.

"Vivi, we need to talk."

My legs froze mid-step. Shit. I hesitated for a moment, then forced myself to take a few strides toward the door. Almost there.

"Vivi, I... really need to talk to you. Come here."

His tone softened, making it impossible to refuse. Damn it. I turned back and headed to the dining room. They were all there-Blake, my aunt, and him. The weight in the room felt suffocating.

"Yes...?" I prompted, keeping my voice neutral.

"I heard from Blake that you're planning to move out," my uncle said, his voice cracking just enough to make my chest tighten. This is why I kept my distance from everyone. Keeping them at arm's length was easier than facing this-this hurt.

"Ah... yes, Uncle. I'm old enough to live on my own, so..." I trailed off, trying to sound casual.

"But why did we have to hear this from your friends and not you?"

I winced internally. I had discussed the idea of moving out with Alexei and Sasha -debating between renting an apartment or sharing a place with someone we knew. Alexei, the eternal blabbermouth, must've passed the news along.

"Are we that distant now?" my uncle pressed, his voice tinged with hurt. "Just because we told you to break up with that Kalashnikov man?"

"Break up?" I choked out, caught off guard. "Wh-what? First of all, you need to understand there's nothing serious between me and Zinoviy. It's just a... I'm sorry, but it's just a casual relationship."

Their reactions were immediate. Mouths hung open, disbelief written all over their faces. Aunt Irina was the first to recover.

"This is... Can you tell us how this even happened?" she asked, her voice slow, as if trying to process my words.

I looked at the three of them in silence, debating how much to say. Finally, I relented. "I met him at the restaurant where I work, about a month after I started there. He came in with his friends. He'd already noticed me on campus, so he struck up a conversation. After that, he started coming to the restaurant regularly. And... we became like this. He likes my company as much as I like his."

Blake's voice broke the silence, dripping with sarcasm. "For how long, dearest sister?"

"Seven months. I think so," I replied flatly.

"And you didn't tell us," my uncle said, narrowing his eyes at me.

Here we go again-the same judgmental tone, the same condemning stares.

"You started judging the second you found out he was from the Kalashnikov family," I shot back, my voice sharper now. "I knew this was the reaction I'd get. That's why I didn't tell you. And as for moving out? I'm dead serious about it."

The room fell into a tense silence, broken only by the soft clink of Aunt Irina setting her teacup down. Her hands trembled slightly, but her expression was firm.

"Vivian," she began cautiously, "do you even understand what you're getting yourself into with that family? The Kalashnikovs aren't just rich boys flaunting power. They're dangerous. You can't just brush that aside like it's nothing."

I exhaled sharply, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. "I didn't exactly sign a blood pact with them, Aunt Irina. It's not like Zinoviy has dragged me into his family's business. He keeps me out of all that. What we have is... separate. He respects that."

"Separate?" Blake scoffed, leaning forward. His tone was biting, practically dripping with disdain. "You're telling me the guy who follows you around like a lovesick puppy-who just happens to come from a mafia family-isn't already pulling you into his world? Vivian, don't be naive."

"Naive?" I snapped, my voice rising as the anger bubbled to the surface. "You don't get to call me naive, Blake. You have no idea what my life is like. None of you do. You don't see the judgmental stares at work, the whispers on campus. You don't know how hard I've worked to keep my shit together after everything. And now-now, when I finally have someone who treats me like I matter, you want to tear that down too?"

"Treats you like you matter?" my uncle interjected, his tone sharp enough to cut glass. His face, usually so composed, was tight with frustration. "Do you even hear yourself, Vivi? The Kalashnikovs treat people like property. Like tools. They don't care about anyone outside their family-hell, I doubt they even care about their own family, not truly. And you think you're special? That you're the exception?"

The words hit harder than I wanted to admit. My uncle rarely raised his voice, and when he did, it carried weight. But I refused to back down.

"I don't need your approval to live my life," I said, my voice quieter now but no less firm. "Zinoviy is the only person who doesn't make me feel like I have to apologize for just... existing. For not being the perfect little girl who always does what she's told. You don't get that, Uncle. None of you do."

My aunt exchanged a worried glance with him, then turned back to me. "We just want to protect you," she said softly. "After everything that's happened... after what you've been through... We're afraid this is you running toward danger because it feels familiar. Because it's easier than facing the pain."

Her words hit too close to home, cutting through the anger and hitting the raw, tender place inside me that I worked so hard to keep hidden. I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms, and stared at the floor.

"You think I don't know that?" My voice broke, trembling with emotion. "You think I don't see the patterns? The stupid, self-destructive choices? But what if I'm tired of running? Tired of pretending that everything's okay when it's not? Maybe... maybe I don't want to be protected anymore."

Blake stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. His face was a storm of frustration and worry. "God, Vivian, listen to yourself. You sound like someone begging to be hurt. Is that what you want? To prove everyone wrong even if it destroys you?"

I glared at him, the heat of my anger drowning out the tears threatening to spill. "No, Blake. I just want to live without everyone telling me what I can and can't handle. Without you all treating me like I'm broken. I'm not moving out because of Zinoviy. I'm moving out because I need to figure out who I am, without everyone else's voices drowning out my own."

My uncle ran a hand down his face, exhaling heavily. "Vivian, you're still so young. And I know you think you've got it all figured out, but the world doesn't work like that. This isn't about controlling you. This is about making sure you don't get hurt any more than you already have."

"And what if I do get hurt?" I challenged, meeting his gaze head-on. "What if I fall flat on my face? Isn't that part of life? I've been hurt before, and I survived. I'll survive this too."

The room went quiet again, tension crackling in the air like static. My aunt's eyes glistened with unshed tears, my uncle looked older than he had five minutes ago, and Blake... Blake just looked disappointed.

Finally, my uncle spoke, his voice heavy with resignation. "If this is really what you want, Vivi, we won't stop you. But don't expect us to stand by and pick up the pieces if that family drags you down with them."

"Noted," I said curtly, turning on my heel before they could see the tears threatening to spill.

As I walked toward the door, Blake's voice stopped me one last time.

"Just remember, Vivi," he said, his tone softer now but no less serious. "You're not as alone as you think. Don't shut us out completely."

I didn't turn around. I couldn't. My voice barely carried as I replied. "That's the thing, Blake. I already feel alone."

And with that, I left the house, my heart heavy, my thoughts spiraling.

The walk to campus was a complete blur. My family's words echoed in my head, sharp and unrelenting, cutting deeper with every step I took. I'd barely made it through the morning without snapping at someone-my nerves were shot from the chaos at home and those goddamn texts that wouldn't leave me alone.

By the time I reached the cafeteria for lunch, the tension in my chest was suffocating. My eyes scanned the room until they landed on Alexei and Sasha sitting at our usual spot by the window. Alexei gave me his signature subtle nod as I approached-a quiet acknowledgment, as always-while Sasha greeted me with her bright, ever-sunny smile.

I slid into the seat across from them, my gaze locking onto Alexei like a laser. His casual attempt to look away only made my glare burn hotter.

Sasha tilted her head, instantly picking up on the silent tension. "Okay, guys. I don't know what's going on here, but it's obvious Alexei messed up big time. So, spill. What happened?"

"He told Blake about my plans to move out," I said flatly.

Sasha gasped, a hand flying to her chest in exaggerated shock. "Alexei! You snitched?"

"I didn't snitch," Alexei muttered, avoiding my gaze entirely.

"But you can't hide this forever, you know?" Sasha chimed in, though her playful tone faltered when her attention shifted toward the entrance. Her eyes flicked to Zoran and Zinoviy as they walked into the cafeteria.

And there he was-Zinoviy. As handsome as ever, moving with that casual confidence that always managed to unnerve me. His eyes found mine across the room, and a small smile tugged at his lips, something he couldn't seem to help.

Identical twins. Same face, same height, same way of dressing. But to me, the differences were glaring. Zin smiled-soft and unassuming. Zoran? He smirked, sharp and cocky.

Still, something stabbed at my chest-a deep pang of guilt I couldn't shake. I hadn't told Alexei or Sasha about Zinoviy. Should I? Sasha wouldn't care; if anything, she'd see it as an opportunity to get closer to Zoran through me-or Zin. Alexei, on the other hand? He'd probably give me one of his long-winded lectures. But even then, neither of them would judge me. Not like my family.

I tore my gaze away from Zinoviy and Zoran, the weight of Alexei's silence dragging me back to the table. Sasha's fingers drummed against the surface, the sound sharp in the otherwise tense air, as if waiting for someone to crack.

"Alexei?" My voice softened, probing, trying to reach him through the haze of frustration.

He finally met my gaze, his calm gray eyes unwavering, but something flickered behind them-guilt, maybe even regret. "I didn't tell Blake to hurt you, Vivian. I thought he already knew."

"You thought?" My voice snapped, sharper than I'd meant. "That doesn't fucking help me, Alexei. Do you have any idea what kind of hell I went through this morning because of you?"

"I know you're upset," he said evenly, his tone low, but firm. "But I was just trying to help. You've been acting... distant. Secretive. I thought maybe your family could talk to you, make you reconsider rushing into this."

"Rushing into what?" I leaned forward, my anger simmering. "Wanting a space that's mine? Wanting to breathe without someone breathing down my neck?"

Alexei held my gaze, unflinching. "You don't trust anyone, Vivian. Not your family. Not us. How long were you planning to keep this a secret?"

I opened my mouth to retaliate, but Sasha interjected before I could speak.

"Alright, enough," she said, raising her hands as if to stop a fight. "Let's not turn this into a courtroom. Vivi, Alexei didn't mean to mess things up, but can you really blame him for being worried? You've been on edge for weeks now. Is this really just about moving out?"

Her question hit a little too close to home, and I shifted in my seat, gripping the coffee cup a little too tight, the ceramic edge biting into my palm.

"I'm fine," I said flatly, hoping the lie would stick. "I just need space, okay? That's it."

Sasha didn't buy it, her gaze flicking toward the entrance again, where Zoran and Zinoviy were leaning against the counter, waiting for their orders. "Does this... space have anything to do with him?"

My stomach lurched, a knot of unease tightening in my chest. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Sasha's smirk was knowing, her voice a low tease as she leaned closer. "Oh, come on. Don't play dumb. I've seen the way Zinoviy looks at you. And the way you try not to look at him since the fight between him and Blake."

I stiffened, the blood rushing to my face, my heart hammering in my chest. "There's nothing going on between me and Zinoviy."

Sasha raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. "Uh-huh. And that hickey on your neck is just from a really aggressive mosquito?"

The heat that flooded my face was unbearable. I tugged at my collar, trying to hide the mark, cursing myself. "It's not what you think," I mumbled, already regretting every word that had left my mouth.

"Oh my God, it is what I think!" Sasha gasped, clapping her hands together in delight. "When were you planning to tell us?"

"Sasha, drop it," I pleaded, my voice strained, desperate to stop this conversation from going any further.

"No way," she grinned, unrelenting. "This is huge! You and Zinoviy? How did this even happen?"

Alexei stayed silent, but his eyes were locked on me, a storm of emotions flickering-curiosity, concern.

I took a deep breath, my hands trembling slightly as I tried to steady myself. The weight of their eyes on me-especially Alexei's quiet, unyielding gaze-felt like an accusation. As though I were already guilty of something, and I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep pretending it wasn't eating me alive.

I told them everything I had told my family this morning. Sasha's eyes widened in shock, while Alexei's usual calm expression remained, though I could see he was still processing everything I had just said.

"So, it's not a serious relationship?" Alexei asked, his voice even. I nodded, trying to avoid his eyes.

I hesitated for a moment, then spoke up again. "Umm, Sasha... can I tell you something?"

"I'm... all ears," she replied, leaning forward eagerly.

"The one who rejected you... wasn't Zoran," I began, feeling the truth finally slide past my lips. "It was actually Zin. You were asking Zin out, not Zoran. He thought you were actually asking him out. He didn't realize you meant Zoran. And he was with me when you asked him, which is why he rejected you. I found out about it a few months ago. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. That wasn't Zoran."

For a beat, everything was still. Then, Alexei broke the silence, suddenly bursting into laughter. Sasha's face turned bright red.

"So... That wasn't Zoran I got rejected by?" she asked innocently, and I nodded silently, my own face burning with embarrassment.

Sasha's smile stretched into a grin.

"You bitch, you should've told me this sooner."

"Huh?" I was dumbfounded, my mind still reeling. Alexei was still laughing beside me.

"That means I still have a chance with Zoran!" she yelled, causing the entire cafeteria to go silent. My eyes widened, and I quickly bowed my head, not wanting to meet anyone's gaze. The sudden quiet meant everyone had heard her-Zoran and Zinoviy included.

I slapped my hand over Sasha's mouth, trying to silence her, but her grin remained, stubborn as ever. Suddenly, Alexei fell silent, and an intense presence hovered behind me. I swallowed hard, then looked back. It was exactly what I'd feared. Of course, it was the 'Z' brothers.

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. Zoran slid into the chair beside Sasha, while Zin took his place beside me.

"Well, well," Zoran's smirk remained as he leaned back. "Someone's been talking about me?"

"I-no. It's-" Sasha stuttered, her voice faltering. I couldn't help but chuckle silently. The bravest one in the group had gone mute in front of her crush. It was oddly amusing.

Zin's eyes flicked to me before turning to Zoran, his usual smirk replaced with a cold, hard expression.

"Did I make you speechless, Miss?" Zoran teased, his confidence still unwavering. Sasha blushed fiercely.

Zin's gaze turned back to me. "Hello there, beautiful. Long time no see," he said, smirking at me.

I felt Zoran's presence grow more overwhelming as he leaned in, but Zin's glare was enough to keep him at bay. Zoran only laughed. "Ah, the mama bear is back."

"Back off," Zin said firmly, his voice cutting through the tension. His eyes softened as he turned back to me. "I just told them," I muttered, not quite sure how to handle the situation.

Zin smiled, but it was a slow, knowing grin. "Really?"

I nodded, still not quite believing the sudden weight of his words. He then turned to Zoran, his tone dropping to something more serious.

"We've been together for a while now, so you should shut your mouth and back off, Zo," Zin said, his hand sliding around my shoulder and pulling me closer. The room seemed to freeze, the silence thick as everyone watched the exchange.

My eyes widened at his declaration. It was as if he treated it like just another Tuesday, a casual statement to his brother, but for me, it felt like everything was unraveling all at once. Zin had no qualms about saying it out loud, no hesitation about letting the world know. He didn't have the same reservations I did. He'd always told me he wanted to tell Zoran about us, but hearing it now-actually hearing him say it in front of my friends-felt like a monumental shift.

I half-expected Zoran to throw a tantrum, but instead, he just grinned. "So that's why you've been sneaking out so often without me? That explains a lot."

That's it? No outburst, no anger? Fine. Whatever. As long as he doesn't cause more problems, I can deal with it. Zoran continued to tease Sasha, oblivious to my spiraling thoughts, while I remained nestled in Zin's arm. Alexei, however, kept staring at me in silence. His gaze was heavy, filled with concern.

I met his eyes for a brief moment, understanding his silent question.

Zin, ever the enigma, ignored the tension in the air and instead, focused on me-well, more specifically, my neck.

His eyes landed on the hickey, and the air around us seemed to freeze.

"Hickey?" Zin asked, his voice a little too calm.

"Rashes," I replied quickly, though I could feel the lie burn on my tongue.

"Yeah?" he responded, unconvinced. "Sure."

"I don't expect you to believe me." My words came out flat, but he just chuckled, brushing it off.

"I trust you," he said, and the weight of those words hit me harder than I could've imagined. How could he trust me this much? After everything, after the mess I'd made? How the hell was I supposed to tell him that the mark on my neck was from his brother?

My phone chimed in my pocket, pulling me out of my spiraling thoughts. I quickly removed Zin's arm from my shoulders and fished my phone out of my bag. When I saw the message, my heart stopped.

Zakhar: "Did you decide, Malyshka? But whatever, you're moving into my house. End of discussion. I'll pick you up this coming Sunday."

The weight of his words hung heavy in my chest, suffocating the fleeting sense of relief I'd just managed to grab hold of. Zakhar, always so certain, always so controlling-he never gave me a choice.

He know how to ruin my happy moments, huh?