Page 100 of The Pakhan's Captive
“Promise?”
“On my soul,” he says.
I close my eyes, lulled by the steady beat of his heart under my palm. The debt is paid. The lie is dead. And as I drift back into apeaceful sleep, I know that for the first time in five years, we are finally awake.
33
RAZVAN
The air at the estate has changed. It used to feel like a held breath—static, heavy, and thick with the scent of old wood and the lingering rot of Viktor’s secrets. Now, a week after Lena’s discharge, the compound feels like it’s finally exhaling. The bullet holes in the foyer have been patched, the blood has been scrubbed from the marble, and the silence that remains isn’t the eerie quiet of a graveyard. It’s the stillness of a fresh start.
I pull the SUV up to the front steps, my hands gripping the wheel a little tighter than necessary. Lena is sitting in the passenger seat, her face still a bit pale, but her eyes are bright. She’s wearing a soft, cream-colored sweater that hides the heavy bandages around her waist. Every time she winces when we hit a bump, my heart stops, but she just catches my eye and gives me that small, knowing smile that tells me to breathe.
“We’re home,” I whisper.
“Home,” she repeats, the word sounding like a prayer.
I kill the engine and hop out, rounding the car to help her. I don’t care if the guards are watching.
I scoop her up as gently as if she’s made of spun glass, ignoring her soft protests about being able to walk. I carry her up the steps, through the massive oak doors, and into the foyer.
I’ve spent the last three days orchestrating this. While she was sleeping in that sterile hospital bed, I was on the phone, driving Dmitri and the household staff to the brink of insanity. Everything had to be perfect.
The foyer is filled with hundreds of white balloons, bobbing against the high vaulted ceiling like soft clouds. There are lilies everywhere—her favorite—scenting the air so strongly it drowns out the memory of cordite. In the center of the room stands Theo.
He’s wearing a tiny black suit that matches mine, his hair slicked back, and a grin so wide it looks like his face might split in two. He’s holding a small, velvet box in his hands, clutching it like it’s the most precious thing in the world.
“Mama! Superman!” he shrieks, vibrating with excitement.
I set Lena down on her feet, keeping my arm firmly around her waist to steady her. She gasps, her hand flying to her mouth as she takes in the room.
“Razvan,” she breathes, her eyes shimmering.
“Go on, Theo,” I nudge the boy.
Theo marches forward with the relentless focus of a soldier, stopping right in front of Lena. He holds the box out, his little chest puffed out. “Dad said I have to give this to the Queen. Because he’s too nervous to do it right.”
I cough, feeling a rare heat climb my neck. “I didn’t say that.”
“You did! You said, ‘Theo, if I drop it, I’ll look like a fool,’” the boy chirps, completely blowing my cover.
Lena laughs—a real, melodic sound that heals parts of me I didn’t know were broken. I sink to one knee on the marble floor, the cold stone biting into my skin, but I don’t feel it. I take the box from Theo and open it. Inside is a diamond that catches every bit of light in the room—a stone as clear and resilient as the woman standing before me.
“Six months ago, I put a ring on your finger as a brand,” I say, my voice rough and stripped of any Pakhan authority. “It was a contract. It was a lie. I claimed you as a prize because I was blind. But today…today I’m asking for real. I don’t want a captive, Lena. I don’t want a treaty. I want you.”
I look up at her, my soul bared in a way I never thought possible for a man like me. “I want to be the man you deserve. I want to be the father Theo needs. Lena Sokolova, will you marry me? For real this time?”
The silence stretches for a heartbeat too long. Lena looks at the ring, then at Theo, and finally back at me. Her expression is unreadable for a second, a flicker of the old defiance sparking in her eyes.
“If I say no,” she asks softly, her voice tilting with a hint of a challenge, “am I free to leave? Right now? No gates, no guards, no dungeon?”
My chest tightens. A low, involuntary growl starts in my throat—the possessive animal in me screaming at the thought of her walking away. I force it down. I force my hands to stay open, not clenched.
“Yes,” I rasp, the word tasting like ash but carrying the weight of the truth. “The gates are open, Lena. You are free. You owe me nothing.” I pause, my gaze locking onto hers. “But know this: if you walk out that door, I will follow you. Not as your captor. Not as a king. But as a man who will spend every day of his life trying to win you back. I’ll be the shadow at your heels until you get tired of running and realize you’re already home.”
Lena stares at me, searching my face for any hint of a lie. Then, she slowly reaches out and touches my cheek. Her skin is warm.
“Good,” she whispers. “Because I’m tired of running, Razvan.” She shakes her head, a tear finally escaping and rolling down her cheek. “Yes. I’ll marry you. I loved you even when I shouldn’t have. I loved you when I was supposed to hate you. I’m not going anywhere.”
