KAIREN
I walked out of my father's study entrance, the polished floors blurring under my feet. My fingers kept brushing the side of my face where his slap still burned, the sting sinking deeper into the bone the longer I walked. Every second I let it sit there felt like another second of him winning, but scrubbing it away wouldn't erase the way he made me feel.
Behind me, I could hear Viktor's footsteps—steady, unhurried, the perfect fucking soldier. His presence pressed against my back like an invisible leash. I wanted to whirl around, snarl at him, tell him to fuck off, but I didn't. Dad had already made it clear: Viktor was my shadow now. My chain.
The further we got from the study, the more the rage inside me twisted, hotter and heavier, until it felt like I could peel my own skin off and still not be clean of him.
I barely noticed anything until I caught sight of Aisha coming down the hall toward me. Her heels clicked softly against the marble, her head slightly bowed like she already knew. She didn't look surprised to see me—the blooming bruise on my face, the storm boiling in my eyes.
She stopped a few feet in front of me, her hands wringing together nervously before she finally stepped closer.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, voice tight like she'd been holding it in. "I tried to warn you…"
I shook my head sharply, cutting her off before she could drown herself in guilt. "Don't blame yourself," I said, my voice rough. "It's not your fault. I'm the idiot who thought he could outrun him."
She hesitated, looking up at me with those soft, worried eyes that used to undo me so easily. I leaned closer and murmured low enough that only she could hear, "Same place as usual?"
The flush that bloomed across her cheeks made the corner of my mouth lift slightly. She nodded quickly, biting her bottom lip, and hurried off down the hallway, back toward Dimitri's office.
I watched her walk away, a part of me aching for something I could never even name properly.
But when I turned my head, Viktor was still there. Watching me. Not smug. Not pitiful. Just… silent. Like a fucking statue.
The heat surged back into my chest, burning hotter than before. Another reminder. Another chain. Another problem I needed to solve. Fast.
I stalked down the steps outside, ignoring the sharp glances from the guards stationed at every turn like they were fucking ornaments.
At the base of the driveway, the sleek black car was already waiting—my ride back to the Penthouse, back to the golden cage dressed up as freedom.
I slid into the backseat without a word, throwing myself into the corner like I could disappear into it. I didn't even bother glancing up when the front passenger door opened.
Of course it was him.
Viktor slipped into the seat like he had every damn right, buckling up while keeping that unreadable look on his face.
I stared at the back of his stupid blonde head. "Get out," I said coolly.
No reaction. No glance. He might as well have been deaf.
"I said," I leaned forward slightly, voice sharpening, "get in another fucking car."
Still nothing. Just the soft hum of the engine as the driver pulled us onto the main road.
I let out a short, humorless laugh and fell back against the seat, drumming my fingers against my thigh.
Of course he wouldn't listen. Of course he thought his orders from Daddy meant he could breathe the same air as me.
My phone buzzed against my leg, saving me from the temptation of kicking his seat like a fucking child.
Mika:
You home yet?
I thumbed out a reply.
Me:
Yeah. Unfortunately.
The response was instant.
Mika:
Wish we could kidnap you. Noah's already planning it. Says he'll bring rope this time. Wink emoji.
I chuckled low under my breath, imagining the two of them trying to storm the fortress that was Dimitri's estate. They'd get vaporized before they even got past the gates.
It was three months ago, the night I stopped being the obedient prince and started being something messier. Something real.
I was in Barcelona, hiding out in a penthouse I wasn't even supposed to know existed—one of the hundreds my father scattered across continents like breadcrumbs for rats.
I'd burned my old phone, paid off my pilot, and vanished from my father's radar.
That first night, I hit a club. Real one. Loud. Crowded. Bodies pressed close enough to drown in. It smelled like sweat, weed, cheap perfume, and liberation.
That's where I saw her—Mika. Black lipstick, half-shaved head, arms inked with every bad decision she'd ever made.
She was dancing like nothing could touch her, like the world had never bruised her. I wanted that.
So I asked her name. She asked me if I was a runaway prince. I told her maybe. She laughed like I'd just handed her the most interesting toy in the world.
Then she introduced me to her boyfriend. Noah. Soft voice. Sharp tongue. Dangerous eyes. They were looking for a third. Mika's idea.
And then Noah kissed me two nights later at a party in someone's crumbling villa in Nice. I didn't pull away. Didn't know I liked kissing boys until that moment.
Didn't care, really. I never really had the chance to worry about what or who I liked. I just took whatever scrap of real affection I could get from people and Aisha was the first before Mika and Noah.
We fucked that night. All three of us. And then again. And again. With my trust fund. Different cities. Different beds. Same ache in my chest that I tried to bury under their hands.
We were never in one place for too long. We drank, danced, got high, ran from hotel staff, kissed under pink skies and flashing strobe lights.
For a while, I thought I could actually outrun everything—my name, my father, my fate.
But fate caught up. And now I was here. In a car with a stranger who looked like he'd kill a man and go right back to sleep after. My wrists itched from memory. My freedom, dead in a blink.
I leaned my head back against the window, lips twitching bitterly, thumbs hovering my phone screen. Fuck. I missed them already.
Me:
Tell him to chill. I'll slip out again. Might take a while though… the old man got me a new babysitter.
My eyes flickered up to Viktor's reflection in the window. Fucking perfect. My new shadow.