As the night drew to a close, Viktor sat by the window, smoking a cigarette while his white shirt hung open, revealing his chest and tattoos. Alia lay in bed, clutching the white silk sheets to cover herself. Suddenly, Anna walked in with her signature smirk. "So, brother," Anna teased, "is the job done? Or is the little sister-in-law still not fully under your spell?" Looking at Alia, she added, "Don't be shy, Alia. When Viktor claims something, he owns it completely. You are family now." Viktor stood up, exhaling a cloud of smoke, and coldly told Anna to leave, stating that Alia needed rest. Viktor crushed his cigarette and tried to force Anna out of the room, his patience wearing thin. But Anna, stubbornness as her brother, refused to budge. Standing her ground, she spoke in a voice as commanding as Viktor's. She snatched the cigarette from his hand, took a bold puff, and blew the smoke directly into his face. "Do you think you're the only ruler here?" she challenged, reminding him of their shared Mafia blood. Viktor, his dragon tattoo pulsing with rage, gave her one last warning to stay away from his private life. Alia, still wrapped in the white silk sheets, watched the intense power struggle between the siblings in terror. Viktor's patience finally snapped. He could no longer tolerate Anna's defiance. In one swift motion, he snatched the black handcuffs from beside the bed. The metallic clink of the cuffs sent a chilling signal through the tense room. Viktor's muscular arms and the dragon tattoo on his neck throbbed with suppressed rage.
Viktor: (Gritting his teeth, his voice a low growl) "Anna, do you really want these cuffs on your wrists? Do not push my limits."
But instead of being intimidated, Anna burst into a fit of peal of laughter. Her aristocratic laughter was laced with mockery. She dropped Viktor's lit cigarette onto the floor and took a slow, deliberate step toward him.
Anna: "Handcuffs? You're trying to scare your own sister? Brother, there is no such thing as fear in this Mafia blood."
At that exact moment, nature's fury unleashed outside. A violent thunderstorm began, and a massive bolt of lightning tore through the sky with a deafening roar. For a split second, the blinding flash turned the entire room ghostly white.
Alia, already terrified by the clash between the siblings, couldn't handle the bone-chilling crack of the thunder. While Viktor and Anna were locked in a sharp, silent stare-down, Alia seized the chance to slip out of bed and hide in a small, dark adjacent room (the dressing room).
Alia was wearing nothing but a thin white shirt. The shirt was loose-fitting, and as the rain sprayed in through an open window, the fabric began to dampen and cling to her body. Her extraordinarily long hair hung heavy and wet down her back. Shivering from both the cold and the fear, she huddled in a dark corner, trembling uncontrollably. Anna knew exactly when to step away. Seeing the burning fire in Viktor's eyes and the handcuffs in his grip, she realized her entertainment for the night was complete. With a crooked smirk, she exited the room, walking away like a victor.
Now, only Viktor remained. The storm winds howling through the window tossed the collar of his white formal shirt. He scanned the room, only to find the bed empty—Alia was gone. His jaw tightened. The thought that she might be trying to escape in the chaos fueled his rage even further.
Viktor: (Roaring in a deep, bone-chilling voice) "Anastasia! Where are you? Do not try to hide from me, for the consequences will not be kind!"
Viktor walked slowly toward the dark dressing room. The handcuffs in his hand clinked rhythmically, creating a sense of dread in the heavy silence.
Inside, Alia was frozen with fear. The thin white shirt she wore was soaked from the rain spraying through the vents, clinging to her skin. Her extraordinarily long hair, heavy with moisture, lay sprawled across the floor. She huddled in a dark corner, her face buried against her knees, trembling.
Suddenly, a brilliant flash of lightning revealed her. Seeing Alia in such a vulnerable state, Viktor's anger faltered for a split second, but his eyes still burned with that 'isrovona' (fire) an intense, predatory thirst.
Viktor: (Leaning over her, his voice low) "Didn't I warn you? Even on a stormy night like this, you dared to stay away from me?"
Viktor reached out his powerful hand and gripped the collar of her damp shirt. Alia looked up, meeting his piercing blue eyes now devoid of his glasses. The cold metal of the handcuffs was now dangerously close to her wrists. Three days had passed. Since that stormy night, Viktor had been away from the palace on urgent business. In the silence of the massive estate, Alia felt profoundly lonely and exhausted. She was still wearing that thin white shirt, which now felt like an inseparable part of her very being.
As Alia sat by the window, staring out at the grey, overcast sky, Anna entered the room. Dressed in a luxurious silk gown, Anna moved with an unmistakable air of royal grace. She caught Alia's eye and offered a faint, knowing smirk.
Alia: (In a soft, weary voice) "Come in, Anna... sit."
Alia let out a long sigh and looked at Anna, her face etched with a mix of fatigue and confusion.
Alia: "You know, Anna, I don't feel like myself lately. Everything feels upside down. Your brother... he unites with me every single day. This sense of possession, this sheer intensity—it all feels so strange to me. I can't tell if this is love or just his absolute dominance."
Anna sat down beside Alia. She gently stroked Alia's extraordinarily long hair, as if a big sister providing comfort. A mysterious yet experienced smile played on Anna's lips.
Anna: (In a calm but grave tone) "Listen, Alia, Viktor isn't an ordinary man. The history of the underworld flows through his veins. When he claims something as his own, he wants to feel that ownership every single moment. This daily 'union' is his addiction to you—he wants you to remember, every second, that you belong solely to him."
Anna paused, then mimicked the motion of taking a drag from a cigarette, perfectly capturing Viktor's signature style.
Anna: "It might seem strange to you, but for Viktor, this is the only language of love he knows. He hasn't just imprisoned you within these palace walls, Alia; he has bound you within the handcuffs of his own existence. And from this bond, escape is impossible."
Alia remained silent. She felt the leather choker around her neck tighten, as if Anna's words had brought her face-to-face with a new, haunting reality. Alia asked a haunting question: "Anna, we've been married for so many years. Tell me the truth—was Viktor always like this? Did he bring other women to this palace and unite with them every day too?" Anna, usually so confident, began to hesitate and falter (amta-amta). She struggled to find the right words, eventually admitting that while women were never lacking in Viktor's life, none were ever allowed into his inner sanctum like Alia. "For others, it was just a necessity," Anna explained, "but with you, it's about his very existence." Her hesitation hinted at a darker past that Viktor had kept hidden even from his closest family.Anna's royal poise seemed to wither for a moment. She gazed out the window and let out a heavy sigh, as if she were finally unlocking a dark chest that had been kept shut for years. Alia pulled her thin white shirt tighter around her, leaning in, eager to catch every word.
In a low, grave voice, Anna began to speak:
Anna: "Listen, Alia. The Viktor you see today—the expensive shirts, the handcuffs, this massive palace—it all stands on a horrific history. Since he was a child, he was taught that mercy is nothing but weakness. He has brought many women to this palace before, but he never had a soul-deep connection with any of them. His 'union' with them was merely a tool to assert his dominance."
Anna paused, then looked Alia directly in the eyes to utter a baffling truth:
Anna: "But do you know what the most shocking part is? To this day, Viktor hasn't told anyone—not even me—his real age. There is no record of his exact birth date in our family files. Some say he has ruled this underworld for ages; others whisper that his age was frozen by some sort of curse."
Alia sat there, stunned. The leather choker around her neck suddenly felt even more mysterious. Viktor united with her every single day, wanting her to be a part of his very existence, yet he kept a detail as basic as his age hidden.
Anna: "His age doesn't matter, Alia. What matters is how he shields you, how he returns to you every single day—something he never did for anyone in his past. He may want to hide his identity, but he cannot hide his addiction to you."
At that exact moment, the sound of a black Mercedes pulling up echoed from below. Viktor had returned. Anna stood up quickly, her familiar, cunning smirk returning to her face.Alia confessed to Anna that, much like Viktor, she had lost track of her true self within the palace walls. "I'm not even sure of my own age anymore," Alia whispered, "but I know one thing—I became a mother at just 18." Anna was stunned, realizing that while Alia was still practically a child, she had been thrust into the immense responsibility of being a Mafia Queen. "You're still a child yourself," Anna remarked, "but the way Viktor claims you every day, it's clear he never wants you to grow up. You'll always be his little captive." The heavy sound of Viktor's boots echoed outside the door, signaling his return. Anna was absolutely stunned. "Five children at 18? And two are already married? OMG!" she exclaimed, trying to wrap her head around the impossible timeline of Alia's life. She realized that within the walls of Viktor's palace, the normal rules of time and aging don't apply. "I won't even mention your age anymore," Anna whispered, suspecting some supernatural or mysterious influence. Alia simply adjusted her thin white shirt, knowing her life was bound to Viktor's intensity. Suddenly, Viktor's voice boomed from outside: "Anna, stop worrying about ages. I am the only one who keeps account of my Empress." The door opened with a slow, heavy creak. Viktor entered, his towering, aristocratic presence filling the room, his blue eyes burning with that familiar intensity—isrovona. He was still wearing his jet-black coat, slightly dampened by the storm outside. Seeing Anna so close to Alia caused his jaw to tighten in a sharp, dangerous line.
Without a single word, Viktor marched straight toward Alia. She had been sitting on the bed, clutching her thin white shirt, her extraordinarily long hair spilling across the sheets like silk. In one swift motion, Viktor swept her up into his powerful arms. Alia's legs dangled in the air as the leather choker around her neck seemed to pulse with life under the brush of Viktor's cold fingers.
Viktor turned his bone-chilling gaze toward Anna.
Viktor: "Enough talk, Anna. Mind your own business. Get out of here and finish your FSB (Federal Security Service) tasks. Do not play the spy in my palace."
Anna suddenly regained her royal composure. She knew that when Viktor held Alia like this, there was no room for anyone else. She ran a hand through her hair, a crooked smirk playing on her lips.
Anna: "Relax, brother! Your 'world-class beauty' of a sister is leaving. But remember, I will figure out the mystery of Alia's age one day."
As she left, Anna stole one last glance at Alia, whose eyes held nothing but total surrender to Viktor. As she stepped out, her full name seemed to echo through the hallway—Anna Alexeyevich Petrov Katrina.
With a sharp kick, Viktor slammed the door shut. He pulled Alia even tighter against his muscular chest. Alia buried her face into the crook of his neck, seeking refuge in his scent.
Viktor: (Whispering into Alia's ear, his voice deep and intoxicating) "Now there is no one left, Anastasia. Tonight, you must prove once again that you belong solely to this 'monster' to your Viktor."