Chapter 17 - The Confession
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The estate was placed under ultimate lockdown. Every guard was armed with heavy artillery. The perimeter was secured tighter than a military base.
In the master suite, a private syndicate doctor finished binding Victor’s cracked ribs. Victor dismissed him with a wave of his hand.
Hannah sat on the edge of the bed, staring at her hands.
“This is my fault,” Hannah whispered into the quiet room. “If I hadn't insisted on going, they wouldn't have attacked the gala. I provoked them.”
Victor walked over, his chest bare and wrapped in white bandages. He knelt in front of her, gently lifting her chin so she had to look at him.
“You did not provoke them, Hannah. They attacked because I am strong, and they want my throne. You are not a burden. You are my reason to fight.”
“They won't stop, Victor. They’re going to keep coming for me. For Poppy.”
“Let them come,” Victor said softly, his voice a low, fierce rumble. “I have spent twelve years ruling this city because it was my duty. I hated every second of it. It was ash in my mouth. But now, I have something to protect.”
He leaned closer, his forehead resting against hers.
“I swore I would never let myself care for a woman again after Elena died,” Victor confessed, the walls around his heart completely crumbling. “I swore I would never risk that pain. But you broke every rule I made. I love you, Hannah. I love you, and I love your daughter. And I will burn the entire Russian syndicate to the ground before I let anyone take you from me.”
Hannah closed her eyes, the tears finally falling. She wrapped her arms carefully around his neck, pulling him into a desperate, passionate kiss. It was a promise sealed in blood and survival.
May you like
“You are not my maid,” Victor murmured against her lips, his hands tangling in her dark hair. “You are my Queen.”
“Then let’s win this war,” Hannah whispered back.
