Page 43 of Chain Me

“And did you get it?”

“I got clarity.” Too much clarity. Every hour away from her only confirmed what I feared—I'm compromised. Completely.

Her fingers trace the scar along my collarbone. “Are you close with them? Your brothers?”

The question catches me off guard. Not what I expected after everything.

“Yes.” I capture her hand, pressing it flat against my chest. “Very.”

She studies my face. “That doesn't match the cold enforcer image.”

“We weren't always this.” I find myself speaking without calculating my words first—another sign of how far I've fallen. “As children, we were inseparable. Four boys against the world.”

“Tell me.”

I shouldn't. Personal history is vulnerability. But the words come anyway.

“Nikolai taught us to fight. Dmitri handled strategy. Alexi was on the lookout. I patched everyone up after.” My thumb traces circles on her wrist. “We slept in the same room until I was twelve. Couldn't sleep otherwise.”

“And now?”

“Still the same, in ways that matter. Different rooms. Same purpose.”

She shifts closer. “What would they think about... this?”

This. Us. Whatever dangerous thing grows between the captor and the captive.

“They already know I'm compromised.” I meet her eyes directly. “That's why Alexi took me away. They saw it before I admitted it to myself.”

Her expression softens. “And what exactly did they see, Erik?”

That I'm in too deep. That I'm drowning in you. Those two days nearly broke me.

I look away, unwilling to voice what's becoming increasingly clear to me. Instead of answering, I redirect.

“Tell me about your family.” My voice is rougher than intended. “Your father—he's the reason you're here.”

Something flashes in her eyes—anger, pain, or both. She pulls her hand from mine, creating distance between us.

“Igor Lebedev is many things. A loving father isn't one of them.”

I wait, giving her space to continue or retreat. My training taught me that silence extracts more information than questions.

“He had plans for me.” Katarina's laugh is bitter. “Not education or career goals—marriage plans. Strategic alliances with another crime family.” She sits up, pulling the sheet around her. “When I turned twenty-one, he informed me I'd be marrying Anton Petrov's son.”

My jaw tightens. The Petrovs are known for their brutality, even within our world.

“I refused.” Pride straightens her spine. “He locked me in my room for three days. No food, just water. Said I'd stay there until I agreed.”

“How did you get out?” The question escapes before I can stop it.

“I climbed down from the third floor using bedsheets.” A smile touches her lips. “Nearly broke my ankle, but I made it to my friend's apartment.”

She looks directly at me now. “I left with nothing but the clothes I was wearing. No money, no connections—nothing from him.”

“And built a tech company from scratch.” I can't hide the admiration in my voice.

“I worked three jobs while getting my degree. Lived on ramen and determination.” Her chin lifts. “Everything I have, I built myself. My father's money has never touched my life since that night.”

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