I swallowed. "I know."
"No, Alina, you don't. You still want to believe he cares—"
"Nina, stop." My voice came out harsher than she intended.
Silence.
I pinched the bridge of my nose, guilt settling in my chest. "I just... I can't think about that right now. I need to focus on what's ahead."
Nina let out a shaky breath. "And what is ahead?"
I fingers curled into the bedsheet. "Marriage."
Another silence, heavier than before.
Then, Nina's voice, barely above a whisper. "To him."
I didn't respond.i couldn't.
Because in just a few days,i would belong to a man no one had ever seen. A man surrounded by nothing but fear and mystery.
"Alina." Nina's voice was urgent now. "Listen to me. The Volkovs… they're not the normal kind of family we are used to."
Alina frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, there are rumors. Things I have heard. Things people say in whispers because they are too afraid to say them out loud."
A shiver ran down Alina's spine.
"What kind of things?" I asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Nina hesitated.
"You need to be careful," she finally said. "You don't know what you're walking into."
The line goes dead before I can say anything else.
I stare at the phone in my hand, my fingers tightening around it until my knuckles ache.
I don't know what I'm walking into.
That's the problem, isn't it?.
I couldn't sleep.
Nina's words coiled around my thoughts like a snake, tightening their grip every time I closed my eyes. You don't know what you're walking into. I already knew that much. I had heard the rumors—whispers traded like forbidden secrets, stories about the Volkov family that made even the bravest men lower their voices.
They were powerful, untouchable, feared.
And now, I was supposed to marry into them.
My fingers curled into the sheets, my heart hammering in my chest. The weight of it all pressed against me, making it hard to breathe. I had to leave. Not tomorrow, not later—I had to go now. If I hesitated, my father would make sure there was no way out.
I slipped out of bed, the wooden floor cool beneath my feet as I moved with practiced silence. The only source of light came from the moon spilling through my window, casting pale shadows against the walls of my room.
I was not leaving empty-handed.
Moving quickly, I knelt beside the old chest tucked away in the corner—the only thing of my mother's that was ever left for me. The wood was old, the hinges stiff, as I pried it open. My hands trembled as I reached inside, fingers brushing against fabric, paper—then metal.
The hairpin.
It was delicate, silver, shaped like intertwining branches with a single blue stone in the center.
My mother used to wear this every day, tucking it into her hair with the gentlest hands. And sometimes—on the rare nights when I had trouble sleeping—she would press it into my palm and whisper,
"You are stronger than you know, my love."
A lump rises in my throat. I clench my fingers around the pin,as if the memory of my mother could somehow give me the strength I need. I had never worn it, but I had never let it go either. I turned it over in my fingers before slipping it into the small bag I had packed earlier. Just a few things. Nothing too heavy. I needed to be fast.
A glance at the mirror made me hesitate. My reflection stared back at me—fair,tall, slender, dressed in a simple tunic and dark trousers. My dark hair, loose and wavy, framed my face, making me look younger than my nineteen years. But my eyes—deep brown, wide with fear—betrayed my thoughts.
You don't know what you're walking into.
Maybe I didn't.
But I knew I couldn't stay.
I took a shaky breath and pushed open the window. The air was crisp against my skin as I swung a leg over the ledge. The drop wasn't too far—I had climbed out of this window plenty of times as a child. But never with the weight of my future pressing down on me.
I steadied myself. One step at a time.
Then I jumped.
I landed on the grass with a soft thud, my knees bending to absorb the impact. A moment of stillness. The wind whispered through the trees, and for a second, it felt like I had actually done it. I was free.
Then—
A hand clamped around my wrist.
I gasped, twisting in alarm, but the grip was iron. When I looked up, my heart plummeted.
Gregor.
One of my father's most trusted men. Tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in dark clothes that made him blend into the night. His expression was unreadable, but his grip tightened when I struggled.
"Going somewhere, Alina?" His voice was calm. Too calm.
Panic surged through me. I tried to yank my arm free, but he barely moved.
"Let me go," I hissed.
Gregor sighed, like he had expected this. "You know I can't do that."
I clenched my jaw. "I'll scream."
He smiled, but it wasn't kind. "You could. But would it change anything?"
I hated that he was right. No one in this house would help me. Not even the walls would echo my cries.
Still, I fought. I kicked, twisted, dug my nails into his skin, but he didn't even flinch. Damn it. I should have known better. Gregor wasn't just any guard—he was my father's shadow. If he was here, that meant my father already knew.
Fear turned cold in my veins.
Gregor exhaled, his patience wearing thin. "Let's not make this difficult."
Difficult? My entire life was difficult.
I stopped struggling, meeting his gaze head-on. "If you take me back inside, I will find another way to leave."
He studied me for a long moment before shaking his head. "It's not up to me."
Then, without another word, he lifted me effortlessly into his arms. I thrashed, cursing, but it was useless.
My escape was over before it had even begun.
Gregor carried me through the front doors like I was nothing more than a wayward child. My struggles had ceased by the time we reached my father's study—not out of surrender, but because I knew it wouldn't make a difference. My body was tense, coiled like a spring, but I forced my breathing to slow. I had to be smart now.