Page 155 of Ruins
Maksim’s tone turns colder, more dangerous. “TheSovereignsremains standing, Scythe. Whether you like it or not.”
“Fuck the Sovereigns, this alliance has already put my sister in danger and almostkilledmy father. After I speak with Angelo, we’re getting out of this shit,” I spit.
Maksim’s laugh is low and dark, sending a chill through me. “What about NovaRael? Are you willing to let that go, too?”
“I have ZUES. I’ll build on it,” I reply confidently, though the weight of his words lingers.
“And what about Vasilisa?” Maksim adds, his voice dripping with malice.
The mention of her name freezes me, my pulse pounding in my ears.
“You didn’t think I wouldletyou keep her, did you?” Maksim continues, his tone cruel and calculated, designed to cut deep.
A growl escapes my throat, anger and fear intertwining in a way that makes my skin prickle. “Fuck you, Korsakov.” I end the call with a swipe, my hand trembling in rage, my grip tight on the phone.
The only thing that can calm me now is her. I pull up the feed on my phone and I watch from the beginning as her day unfolds, as she paints with the guards, laughing and exchanging pleasantries, bantering and happy withother men. Jealousy creeps at the edge of my vision, I look back to the previous days and watch as she plays games with them, cooks with them, eats with them. I watch as they embrace her, she touches Enzo's shoulder, claps for Nico, beams at Luca and I want to crush my phone in my hand.
I switch to live footage of her now, in the library thatIgave her, painting with the guards. A surge of anger courses through me. Immediately I send a text to every guard, but Luca; ordering them to come to the hospital.
Fury blurs my vision as I watch them leave her side, their lips touching her forehead in goodbye. But instead of looking grateful or relieved, she's sad. Always a ray of sunshine toeveryonethat wife of mine.
Overlyfriendly.
Luca’s disapproving stare burns through the surveillance screen, his silent judgment sharper than any words he could say. I refuse to acknowledge it. She belongs to me. That is the only truth that matters.
I shut off the screen, but the image of her lingers—her sad, distant expression etched into my mind like a wound that won’t close.
I push it away. I have to.
I need to find Angelo. Need to focus on Maksim’s evasions, on the pieces of this war slipping through my grasp, instead of the ache my wife stirs in me.
By the time my men arrive, my anger has cooled to a simmer. Controlled. Contained. I give them their orders, stationing them outside my father’s hospital room before leaving without another word.
Home.To her.
***
The house feelswrongwhen I return. Midnight is early for me, but the silence still unsettles. For the first time in months, the thought crosses my mind—she might still be awake. A flicker of something I refuse to name stirs in my chest.
Hope.
I glance toward the living room. Empty.
Upstairs, Luca is stationed outside her door, his presence both a reassurance and an irritation. A permanent shadow between my wife and me.
He doesn’t move when I approach, but his eyes flick over me, assessing. “Your father well?” His voice is neutral, but there’s a quiet edge to it.
“As well as can be expected,” I reply curtly, my gaze shifting to the closed door behind him. “Is she asleep?”
“She went to bed early.” His tone stays even, but something in it makes me bristle.
Anger.
“You have something to say, Luca?” I demand.
His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t hesitate. “She’s happy.” A pause, deliberate. “She feelsgood. Free instead of alone. Instead oftrapped.” His gaze sharpens. “You didn’t need to take them from her.”
The words slap harder than they should. My muscles coil, my voice lowering to something dangerous. “I take what I want—fromher, fromanyone.” I step closer, the air thick with tension. “You seem to overstep when it comes to my wife, Luca. Tell me—is there something I should know?”
