Page 81 of Darkest Oblivion
“Answer me, Penelope,” he growled, stepping closer, his presence suffocating, “What did he say?”
I swallowed. “He said my father’s in town and could help me escape. He said my father sent him and made a video call as proof.”
Dmitri’s eyes narrowed, scanning mine like he was measuring truth and betrayal. “So why didn’t you go with him?”
“Because I chose you,” I blurted, words raw and reckless.
Truth burned in my throat, shame twisting inside me.
His jaw tightened; his expression didn’t shift—like my choice meant nothing.
“Or because you’re scared of consequences,” he said, voice cold.
“No,” I shot back. “I could’ve left already.”
“And your precious father would’ve had a bullet in his head,” he snapped, hand twitching like he wanted to grab me. “Get in.”
“You don’t get to order me like I’m one of your soldiers!” I shot back, my voice trembling but sharp with fire.
“Get. In.” His growl sliced through the night, dangerous, impossible to ignore. “Now.”
My legs quivered as I hesitated, every instinct screaming to flee, but the weight of his presence pressed down on me.
Swallowing, I slid into the passenger seat, chest tight, fingers trembling, the engine’s roar filling the tense silence between us.
The road stretched before us, familiar yet alien, my stomach knotting as suspicion prickled. “Where are we going?” I asked, voice small but firm, clinging to what remained of my defiance.
“You want to see your father, don’t you?” Dmitri’s voice was controlled.
His eyes stayed on the road, but the weight behind his words pressed down like steel. “Then you will.”
My mind spun.
Why now?
Why this sudden shift, letting me see my father after all he’d said—after all his rules, his threats? He’d sworn I wouldn’t speak to them, not until I carried his child. What had changed? Something had to be wrong—Dmitri Volkov didn’t alter his plans, his obsessions, without a reason.
I stayed silent, anticipation and fear coiling together.
We pulled up to an ancient estate, stone facade looming like an 1800s castle.
Turrets pierced the night sky, ivy strangled the walls, and the windows glowed faintly, casting eerie shadows.
Dmitri leaned against the hood, silhouette sharp in the moonlight. “Go in,” he said, voice commanding. “Your father’s inside.”
I froze. My father... inside this fortress? What was he doing here, and did he even know I would come?
“Why the sudden change of heart?” I asked, suspicion curling through my chest. Seeing that he ignored me, I added, “You’re not coming?” My eyes searched him for any hint of the trap I knew was lurking.
He shook his head, pulling out his phone. “Giovanni’s representing me. I don’t need to be there. Your father leaves tomorrow—this is your only chance.” A flick of his wrist, already dialing, dismissed me with casual authority.
I turned from him and began toward the ancient building, each step heavy with uncertainty.
Instinctively, I glanced back. Our eyes met for a heartbeat—his gaze locked on me, intense and raw. Not the cold disgust I had braced for, but a fierce, unguarded fire that made my breath hitch and my pulse spike.
For a moment, I saw not the monster who had claimed me, but the boy I once loved, twisted into obsession and need.
He looked away quickly, caught, and I forced a smile, feeling the strange thrill of being seen, marked—the stars on my shirt pressed against my skin like a brand.
