The morning had begun with an eerie stillness. In that luxurious hotel suite, Alia was sipping her tea as the sunlight filtered through the glass windows. A mystery book lay open on the table before her—a small attempt to calm her mind after the stormy nights of the past few days.
Suddenly, a knock echoed. Viktor entered the room. Dressed in an expensive black suit and sunglasses, his massive 6'8" frame made the spacious room feel small again. He stood by Alia's table and spoke in a bone-chillingly grave tone:
"Little bird, I have to go somewhere (Ekjaygay jete hobe) urgently. It's family business, Mafia related... it might take some time. Stay alert."
Alia looked up from her book, a sudden sense of dread taking root in her heart. She whispered softly:
"Viktor... will you come back? Will I be able to see them tomorrow morning?"
Viktor paused for a heartbeat, a mysterious shadow flickering in his blue eyes. Without a word, he simply nodded and walked out of the room with long, rapid strides. Outside the hotel, the roar of his Bugatti's engine thundered, and in an instant, the car vanished from sight.
Time began to stretch. One hour, then two—Alia's tea grew cold and undrinkable; the pages of her book remained unturned. Her mind played back Viktor's final look and the terrifying contract they had signed. She checked the clock repeatedly, her heart hammering against her ribs.
Three hours later, Alia's tension reached its breaking point. She was pacing the room when the door suddenly burst open. One of the three maids rushed in, gasping for breath, her face pale and filled with sheer terror.
The maid collapsed to her knees before Alia and screamed in a trembling voice:
"Ma'am... oh Ma'am! Disaster has struck! Our Master... Viktor is dead! (Viktor mara geche!) His car was attacked... they caught him..."
Alia's world came to a sudden, jarring halt. The teacup slipped from her hand, shattering into a thousand pieces on the floor. Viktor was dead? That titan of a man, who had tried to destroy her piece by piece, who had imprisoned her motherhood he was gone? She couldn't believe it.
The sound of the maid's wailing and the distant wail of sirens outside created a terrifying symphony in Alia's ears. She realized that while Viktor's death might have opened her path to escape, it also left the fate of her children hanging by a precarious thread.The expensive china teacup in Alia's hand struck the stone floor and shattered into a thousand pieces. Though the scalding tea splashed onto her feet, a far more intense agony tore through her chest, drowning out the physical pain. In the very room where Viktor's dominance had been absolute just moments ago, there was now only a haunting, hollow silence.
Unable to steady herself, Alia collapsed to her knees on the floor. Her fierce spirit, her pride as a Tae Kwon Do warrior—all of it seemed to turn to ash in an instant. She covered her face with both hands and let out a scream that echoed against the hotel walls:
"NAAAAAAAAA! Viktor! This cannot be! You cannot leave me alone like this!"
Alia began to cry hysterically. Her tears were a chaotic mixture of hatred, love, and utter uncertainty. Viktor had imprisoned her, yes, but over these past two days, the warmth of his massive frame and the piercing gaze of his blue eyes had woven a subconscious web around her soul.
She pressed her hands against the broken shards on the floor, crying out:
"Viktor, you promised I would see them tomorrow morning! You said if I signed the contract, you wouldn't harm them! Now who will take me to them? Who will protect my children?"
Seeing Alia in this state, the maid cowered further in fear. Outside the hotel, the blaring sirens of mafia vehicles and the sounds of growing chaos intensified. Alia realized that without Viktor, the enemies surrounding her would now descend like hungry wolves to tear her apart.
Slumped on the floor, sobbing, Alia whispered brokenly, "Viktor... are you truly gone? Was our unfinished war meant to end like this?" A haunting scream echoed through the silent luxury of the hotel. Within moments, Viktor's loyal bodyguards brought his bloody and lifeless body into the room on a stretcher. His massive was now covered in a white sheet, but even through the fabric, the owl tattoo on his chest was faintly visible, soaked in blood.
When Alia threw herself onto Viktor's cold body, her grief knew no bounds. She pressed his freezing hands against her chest and began to scream:
"Viktor! Open your eyes! You cannot leave me like this! You said you were immortal, you said no one could kill you!"
The three maids were terrified by Alia's hysteria. They knew Viktor's enemies were already closing in on the hotel. They tried to pull her up, one of them crying out:
"Ma'am, please calm down! We must flee from here immediately. The Master's enemies will burst in at any moment. Come with us!"
But Alia, like a woman possessed, violently shrugged off the maids' hands. Tears flowed incessantly from her eyes, but her voice held a stony resolve. She shouted:
"No! I won't go anywhere! (NA! I won't go anywhere!) You cannot take me away. I will not stay a single moment without Viktor. He imprisoned me, he showed me hell—but now, that hell is my home. I will stay right here beside his lifeless body!"
Alia buried her face against Viktor's chest, sobbing uncontrollably. Her expensive nightdress was now stained crimson, soaking up Viktor's blood. She began to mutter brokenly:
"Did you think that if you died, I would be free? No, Viktor. You have entangled me in your web so deeply that even death cannot part us. I will perish in this very room with your corpse."
Outside, the sound of mafia gunfire grew louder. Viktor's empire was collapsing like a house of cards, but Alia sat there beside her 'Russian Devil,' waiting for the final destruction to consume her.In a secluded graveyard atop a hill, Viktor was laid to rest amidst heavy rain. Alia wore a regal black dress with a black net veil covering her tear-stained face. In her hand, she held a single red rose, soaked in rain and sorrow.
Alia knelt by the cold, wet grave, her body trembling. Placing the rose on the marble slab, she sobbed, "Viktor... do you see? Even the sky is weeping for you. You called me your captive, but now you are the one imprisoned in this dark earth. How will I live without you?" She leaned down and pressed a long kiss onto the grave a kiss of lost love and eternal longing. "Goodbye, my Russian Devil," she whispered. "Even in death, you've kept me trapped in your memory forever." As the rain poured down, Alia lay collapsed on the muddy ground, mourning the man who was both her tormentor and her soul's anchor.From the silent grave, Alia went straight to the seacoast. The day was fading, the sky a tapestry of dark blue and crimson. The roar of the ocean and the whistling wind matched the sorrow in her heart.
Alia stood on the wet sand, dressed in her solemn black dress. Her net veil had blown aside, and her long golden hair was blowing wildly in the wind. Her eyes were swollen from crying as she stared aimlessly into the vast ocean, as if searching for Viktor's soul in the waves.
In her right hand, she clutched the single black rose, unable to leave it at the grave. Suddenly, her left hand moved to her chest. She pulled out an expensive gold locket, heart-shaped. With trembling hands, she opened it.Inside the locket were two small pictures (piks):
Alia: smiling with her familiar, enchanting grace.
Viktor: in his full 6'8" imposing glory, with his stark white hair, piercing blue eyes, and that unmistakable owl chest tattoo.
Looking at the two pictures, Alia's tears fell again. She pressed the locket to her lips and screamed into the crashing waves, "Viktor! You said you'd be with me forever! This locket, this black rose they are all witnesses to your false promises. How will I live alone on this endless shore without you?" She collapsed to her knees on the wet sand, clutching the locket to her chest, her cry blending with the ocean's roar. Her hair and dress whipped around her, making her look like a desolate queen on a forgotten shore. While the cries of the salt-laden wind and the heat of the beach sand echoed in Alia's ears, a mysterious atmosphere was brewing in a huge, regal mansion on the outskirts of the city. The estate sat atop a deserted hill, shrouded on all sides by thick, swirling fog.
Inside a dark room of that mansion, a strange sound broke the silence. A pet owl was fluttering its wings inside a cage, making restless chirping noises. The owl seemed agitated, as if mourning the absence of its master.
At that exact moment, a mysterious figure rose slowly from a chair hidden in the shadows. He was dressed in a majestic silk gown. He approached the owl and slid his hand into the cage. The man gently stroked the owl's head, and the bird calmed down instantly, as if it recognized that familiar touch.
The light inside the room was dim, making the man's face nearly impossible to discern. But as the window curtain swayed slightly in the breeze, a sliver of moonlight fell directly across his eyes. Those eyes were a piercing, deep blue—the exact same cold and hypnotic gaze as Viktor's.
The man looked at the owl and spoke in a low, gravelly voice:
"Be still... the time is almost here. Alia thinks I am finished, but she doesn't know that Russian devils do not die easily. This great house is now only waiting for her return."
Every wall of that massive mansion seemed to hide some terrifying truth. Perhaps the five children were being kept safe in a secret room within these very walls. Unbeknownst to Alia, a new gambit was being played by the owner of those mysterious blue eyes.