Dmitri's POV
I could still taste her.
I was pacing my room like a restless animal, my knuckles aching from when I slammed them into that stone pillar earlier. The kiss hadn't been a mistake.
It had been inevitable.
She came to me.
That thought sat low in my chest, heavy and warm. I hadn't planned for it to happen tonight. I was supposed to keep control, stay focused on the bigger picture. Train her. Shape her into someone who wouldn't get torn apart at the gala.
But the moment she grabbed my sleeve, hesitant, unsure, like she didn't fully realize what she was doing. I stopped caring about the plan.
So I took what I wanted.
Her heartbeat had been wild under my hand, fast and uneven. For a second, she leaned into it. Then she froze, like part of her remembered she should probably pull away.
Good.
Let her feel torn.
Julien had spent too long building a soft little world around her, one where she could pretend things were safe. That illusion had to go. I needed her sharp, aware, capable of standing in a room full of predators without flinching.
Out there, she was vulnerable.
With me, she had a chance.
People liked to talk about love like it was something gentle, something warm and uncomplicated. I never believed that. Love didn't keep people alive.
Power did.
Control did.
If that kiss made her look at Saint Julien and realize he wasn't enough, then it served its purpose. She needed to understand how this place really worked. Every opportunity she had here existed because I allowed it. Every threat she survived was one I was already watching.
Julien could keep his promises about safety.
I was offering something better.
A throne instead of a hiding place.
And anyone who sat on a throne needed to understand one thing, crowns never came without chains.
That kiss was just the first one.
Julien's POV
The sun was too bright.
My hands were damp, making the folder I was holding feel slippery. I had already read the documents three times. Each time, the same sick feeling crept into my stomach.
This had gone way past trying to protect her.
Now I wanted to win.
I found her in the music wing.
She was sitting on the floor against the lockers, her violin case pulled close like a shield. For a moment I just stood there, watching her. Something about her seemed different. Quieter, maybe. But stronger too.
Then I noticed it.
A small mark on her lower lip. Barely there, but impossible to ignore.
My stomach dropped.
"Isabelle."
Her eyes opened immediately. For a split second, she looked at me like she didn't recognize me. Then her expression softened, though not completely.
"Julien. You're… here."
"I need to show you something."
My voice came out sharper than I intended.
"Okay."
She didn't get up.
I dropped the folder onto the floor between us. The sound echoed down the hallway. A couple of the papers slid loose, and the Volkov seal was right there in the open.
She stared at it.
"What's this?" she asked quietly.
But the way she said it made it clear she already suspected.
"The truth."
I tapped the seal with my finger, a little harder than necessary.
"Your scholarship. It wasn't the board. It wasn't your audition. It was a payment. Viktor Volkov bought you a spot here. Dmitri is just the one who gets to watch over the investment."
She picked up one of the papers.
Her hands didn't shake.
For some reason, that made it worse.
"What are you talking about?" she said. "He told me your father arranged the spot and you argued for me."
"He lied."
The words tasted awful.
"I did argue for you. But he made sure you ended up exactly where he wanted you. Dmitri doesn't protect you, Isabelle. He studies you. Like you're something he owns."
She finally looked at me.
Her eyes had gone cold.
"Why are you showing me this now?"
"Because we still have time."
I reached for her hand. It felt cold and distant in mine.
"My car is by the north gate," I said quickly. "My aunt's house in the valley is empty right now. We can leave tonight. No masks, no politics… none of this." I tightened my grip slightly. "Just us. Like we talked about."
She didn't respond right away.
"I can't just run, Julien."
"Why the hell not?" The frustration slipped out before I could stop it. "Because he gave you a little attention? Because suddenly everything he says sounds exciting?"
My eyes flicked to her lip again.
I hated that I noticed.
She pulled her hand back immediately.
"He actually sees me," she said. "He doesn't look at me like I'm something fragile that needs to be hidden somewhere safe."
That hit harder than I expected.
"That's not... I'm trying to keep you safe!" I said.
"Are you?"
She stood up then, looking down at me.
"All you ever talk about is safety," she continued. "Hiding. Leaving. His answer is different. He's giving me a reason to fight back."
"He is the fight, you idiot" I snapped, standing up too. My voice was louder than I meant it to be. "He built this whole situation so he's the only one who looks like the solution. He's not helping you, Isabelle. He's making you dependent on him."
The sound of my voice echoed down the empty hall.
I saw her flinch.
Part of me hated that.
Another part didn't.
"You like how he looks at you?" I said bitterly. "Like you're something he's trying to claim? That's not love. That's control. And you're choosing him over—"
I stopped myself.
Over me.
I didn't need to finish the sentence.
She understood anyway.
The look she gave me told me everything.
She saw right through me.
The jealousy. The fear. The fact that I wanted to save her partly because I didn't know who I was if I didn't.
The "golden boy" image cracked wide open.
She stepped back.
"Then maybe I already made my choice."
That was it.
The conversation was over before I could fix it.
The folder on the floor suddenly felt pointless. The papers I thought would change everything just looked like trash now.
And the mark on her lip was still there.
I turned away before she could see how close I was to losing it.
The walk to the gate felt longer than usual.
My car was waiting, engine running, just like I'd planned. A way out. A future we'd talked about for months.
But when I looked at it now, it felt empty.
It had always been empty.
I gave her a choice, the truth or the devil.
And because I sounded jealous, angry, and desperate… she chose the devil.
At least he didn't pretend to be a saint while trying to claim her.