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Despite the disgust in his eyes, I held my ground.
He was just a pawn in my desperate quest for the truth.
I took him in—dark, long hair, a sharp jawline, and those dark eyes that pulled me in and made me feel lost. Even though he was dressed now, I remembered how he looked fresh out of the shower: water droplets on his thick shoulders, defined abs, and a trail of dark hair leading down there. His body was as striking as his face.
When he touched me, I was caught off guard by how gentle he was. His usually rough hands were surprisingly soft, making every touch feel more intense. The way he moved against me created a friction that nearly consumed me. His breathy, intimate moans left me feeling weak and on the brink of giving in completely. I was so close to surrendering but I didn't.
Shaking my head, I tried to regain control, reminding myself this was the same man who had held a knife to my throat just moments ago.
He didn’t know it was you, though–
No. I had to remember he could make me disappear in a heartbeat.
I shoved the nagging thoughts aside.
Now wasn’t the time for delusions.
"Let me make this fucking clear. Leave now, or I’ll make you wish you had. Trust me, you don’t want to find out what that means."
“The water is still running,” I breathed out, ignoring him.
Confusion flickered in his eyes before he heard that the shower was still indeed running.
“Mind your fucking business,” he snapped, the vein in his throat pulsing.
“Water scarcity is a global issue. So, it is my business.”
He stared at me, disbelief evident.
Without waiting for his response, I walked past him into the bathroom. I reached out to turn off the faucet, wetting my arm. Before I could fully appreciate the room’s design, a rough hand yanked me out.
I scrambled for the door handle.
“Sofiya, I swear to God–”
“What did you mean when you said I’ve been lied to my whole life?” I cried, clinging to the door. “Where’s my mama?”
“She isn’t your fucking mother!” His words exploded, darkening the room. I felt his rage pulse through me with every beat of my heart.
The horror must have shown on my face, because Volk released my arm when our eyes met. “There,” he said, still fuming. “I hope you’re happy now.”
What?
“I-I don’t believe you.”
I pressed a trembling hand to my chest, trying to steady my racing heart.
No. It’s impossible.
The ground felt unstable, like my reality had shattered.
“You’re lying,” I whispered.
“Why would I lie?” He turned abruptly, heading toward his bed where his cell phone lay. “I don’t give a fuck about you or Helena.”
“How do you know?” I managed to choke out.
It couldn’t be true. I refused to believe him. She had always been there for me, caring for me like any mother would.
