Viktor's madness showed no signs of slowing down. After returning from the pool, he led Alia straight to the bedroom. This time, the scene was even more dominant and obsessive.
Viktor walked to the massive, ornate bed by the window. He gripped the heavy iron bed grill with both hands, his 6-foot-8-inch muscular frame looming over the space. His back was toward Alia, standing like a wall of granite.
At that exact moment, the small Bluetooth earphone in his ear buzzed. A call from the Russian underworld urgent news or a deal update. Viktor's life was like this: danger and power followed him like a shadow.
Viktor tightened his grip on the bed grill until his knuckles turned white. While maintaining his intense physical intimacy with Alia, he answered the call. On one hand, he was consumed by primal passion; on the other, his voice was ice-cold and professional.
Viktor: (Into the phone, in a low, gravelly Russian tone) "Speak. ... No, not now. Finish him tomorrow morning at the Kremlin intersection. Leave no evidence."
While Viktor was issuing a death order over the phone, he was simultaneously lost in the heights of passion with Alia. Her breath hitched as she witnessed his dual nature deciding someone's death in the same breath as he held his lover.
Alia whispered into his ear, "Are you always this terrifying? Death in one hand, life in the other?"
Viktor disconnected the call. He let go of the grill, turned around, and pinned her to the bed. His eyes flashed with a demonic sort of pleasure.
Viktor: "This is my world, Alia. Here, love and blood flow together. Are you afraid? Or is it this terrifying side of me that pulls you in even closer?"
Alia didn't speak; she simply sought refuge against his massive chest. The Russian night remained a silent witness to a bloody, beautiful epic. As Viktor pulled away after the intensity of the moment, his entire body was slick with sweat. Droplets rolled down his massive dripping onto the carpet. He took a heavy breath and wiped his forehead.
He gave a small, weary but satisfied smile and looked at Alia, speaking in a low voice—
Viktor: "Oof, I'm completely sweating (Gheme gelam), Alia... do you realize how much your obsession is draining me? I'm exhausted."
Alia remained on the bed, her hair a chaotic mess. The moment she heard the word "exhausted" from Viktor, the mysterious novelist within her awoke. She sat up abruptly, a mocking smile spreading across her face. She didn't miss the chance to insulthim.
Alia: (In a mocking tone) "Is this all it takes to make you sweat, Viktor? The man who claims to rule all of Russia with one hand is panting after the love of a single woman? Is that monstrous strength of yours just for show?"
She leaned forward, pointing a finger at his sweat-drenched chest.
Alia: "Honestly, Viktor, I pity you today. No matter how much you think of yourself as the 'Dark Prince,' you're actually quite weak. You don't have the capacity to endure my 'fire of revenge.' One night and you're finished?"
The look in Viktor's eyes shifted instantly. Fatigue was replaced by a cold fury. He hadn't expected this direct insult from her. He loomed over her again, the heat radiating from his body threatening to consume her.
Viktor: (Gritting his teeth) "You dare insult me, Alia? Do you have any idea who you are talking to? This 'weak' man could level this palace to the ground right now if he wanted."
Alia: "Palaces are made of stone and brick, Viktor anyone can break those. But you keep losing to me. Your sweat tells the story of how defeated you are by your addiction to me. You aren't a king, Viktor; you're just a tired slave to my obsession."
Alia's toxic words struck right at Viktor's ego. He gripped her shoulders tightly, the tension in the room reaching a breaking point once again. Alia's sharp insults stung Viktor like venom. Hearing himself being called a "slave" triggered the terrifying Mafia Lord within him. Without a single word, he lunged at her like a predator and kissed her with a wild, overwhelming intensity.
It wasn't a gentle gesture; it was a brutal assertion of his power and possession. Alia struggled, but against his 6-foot-8-inch frame and monstrous strength, she was completely helpless.
Breaking the kiss, Viktor kept his face inches from hers. His breath was ragged, and his eyes held a lethal glint. He spoke in a voice that was eerily calm yet bone-chilling
Viktor: "Never forget, Alia, I am not some ordinary man of this city. I am a Mafia Lord. And a Mafia Lord is never a slave to anyone... he only knows how to rule his empire and his woman. Your toxic words are only fueling my addiction."
As Alia looked into his eyes, she saw more than just love she saw a primal darkness. Viktor continued
Viktor: "No matter who you insult, remember your entire existence now moves at my command. If I sweat, it's not from exhaustion, but from the battle of making you mine. And in that battle, victory is always mine."
Viktor's ruthless mafia persona reminded Alia once again that she wasn't in an ordinary romance; she was playing with fire. Inside that impenetrable Russian chamber, the Don's dominance and the god Mother stubbornness stood locked in another fierce confrontation. As Viktor's ruthless Mafia Lord persona took complete control, the atmosphere of the room shifted into something dark and suffocating. He pulled Alia away from the bed grill and lifted her into his arms in one swift motion. Alia, gripped by a mix of fear and an inexplicable trance, clung to himtightly.
The heat radiating from his massive body sent shivers down her spine. She buried her face into the crook of his neck and pressed a lingering kiss against his skin. Alia could sense that Viktor was no longer in a normal state of mind; he was a psycho manipulator guiding her every reaction.
When Alia pressed her lips against the fresh wound on his neck from which a faint reddish glow still emanated and gave a soft bite Viktor's body went rigid as stone. He let out a low, primal growl. Alia began to taste the red essence, the blood from the wound.
Alia's eyes were shut tight lost in a dark haze. Viktor, like a bloodthirsty (Roktopipashu) psycho, pulled her even closer, trapping her within his embrace.
Viktor: (Laughing with a terrifying yet satisfied grin) "You were right, Alia. My veins don't just carry blood; they carry dominion and madness. Tonight, you haven't just become a part of my body, but a part of this dark entity I am."
Alia didn't know where this game would end. She had surrendered herself completely to his psychological manipulation. In the dead of that Russian night, the union of the bloodthirsty Lord and his obsessed writer drifted far away from reality, into a dark abyss where even the falling snow outside bowed to their intensity In the midst of Viktor's bloodthirsty obsession, as Alia's world was spinning out of control, her phone's sharp ringtone suddenly pierced through the silence. The moment she glanced at the screen, her heart nearly stopped.
The name flashing on the display was Anashia.
Seeing that name, Alia's body went rigid with terror. She made a futile attempt to pull away from Viktor's massive embrace. Cold sweat began to bead on her forehead. Viktor, the master psycho-manipulator, instantly caught onto her sudden fear Viktor's eyes still held that intoxicated, demonic glint. He pulled back from Alia's neck and looked at the phone screen. A twisted smirk played on his lips when he saw Anashia's name.
Viktor: (Whispering into Alia's ear in a low, heavy voice) "What happened, Alia? Why is your body trembling? Why does Anashia's name scare you so much? Are you hiding something?"
Alia lost the strength to speak. A call from Anashia at this hour meant either a grave warning or a truth that, if revealed to Viktor, would mean total destruction. Alia reached for the phone with shaking hands, but Viktor gripped her wrist firmly.
Alia: (In a faint whisper) "Viktor... please... let me answer it. She... she might have something urgent to say."
Viktor picked up the phone himself but didn't answer it. He held the calling screen right in front of Alia's eyes.
Viktor: "I don't like it when you tremble in fear of someone else while being held by a Mafia Lord. Who is Anashia to you, Alia? And why is she looking for you in the middle of the night?"
Alia closed her eyes tight. Caught between Viktor's terrifying, bloodthirsty presence and the relentless ringing of Anashia's call, she realized she was trapped in a deadly web. In that dark Russian chamber, Anashia's call was the herald of a new storm. As Alia answered the phone with trembling hands, Anashia's bone-chilling voice came from the other side. Without any hesitation, Anashia spoke with a sinister laugh
Anashia: "I'm coming, Alia... be ready."
Hearing that evil laugh and the news of Anashia's arrival, the ground slipped from beneath Alia's feet. She was so terrified that she scrambled out of Viktor's arms, trying to back away. She wanted to escape Viktor's blood-stained neck and his psycho-glance.
But for Viktor, someone trying to escape him is an invitation to death. Seeing Alia back away, the dominant Mafia monster within him suddenly exploded. His face turned crimson with rage, and the veins in his neck bulged. He let out such a terrifying scream that the very glass of the palace seemed to shatter.
Viktor: (Screaming at the top of his lungs) "I'm gonna kill you for that! I'll be the last thing you see! I'll kill you, do you hear me? I'm gonna kill you!"
The sheer volume of Viktor's demonic scream felt like it would burst Alia's eardrums. Unable to take it anymore, she covered her ears with both hands. Before Viktor's psycho-form and his murderous roar, Alia huddled into a corner of the room.
Viktor began to move toward her with his massive 6-foot-8-inch frame. With every step he took, it felt like death was drawing closer. Between Anashia's call and Viktor's madness, that Russian night took a turn toward a gruesome and bloody climax.