Page 64 of The Darkness is Calling

He is always serious, frowning, and always looks angry or ready to kill everyone. But his gaze at this moment is a thousand times darker. It does not seem filled with anger, but with something far more dangerous, even though his gesture is the opposite when he touches the bruised skin very slowly with his fingertips.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers in a cold voice, without looking into my eyes, making my heart ache. “I will not touch you again.”

He turns and leaves as quickly as he appeared, leaving behind only a cold breeze I feel all the way into my soul.

His decision should make me happy.

So why the hell does it bother me so much?

Unable to control my steps, I follow him into the bedroom, but he is gone. The room is empty, and so is the dressing room.

He must have gone somewhere to shower, because he was dressed in workout clothes, but I choose to give up my search and hope I will have the chance to understand something about this whole story before the end of the day.

Spoiler: I don’t.

After breakfast, which I take alone because everyone seems to have vanished, Dima accompanies me to the gallery, where I plan to spend almost the entire day.

Except in the car, he insists on opening a very... lovely subject, one he begins by mentioning the only person who makes my heart beat harder.

“Pakhan gave me an order a few days ago to remove all microphones and all cameras from your room.”

I raise an eyebrow, and he sees me in the rearview mirror.

“Plural?”

“It no longer matters,” he adds quickly. “The bedroom is clean now, and I was told to let you know you are free to decorate it however you wish. The housekeepers will move your personal things back into the room, so you don’t need to trouble yourself with that.”

“It wasn’t any trouble,” I mutter very quietly, low enough that he cannot hear.

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing.”

Dima looks at me for one second too long, but until we reach the gallery, we do not engage in any further conversation. He stays focused on the road and our surroundings.

All this time I lose myself in thoughts spinning around the complicated situation my heart is in.

And my life, entirely.

The next days pass one after another, slow and agonizing.

Time becomes a routine I move through without enthusiasm, my only real emotion coming from the moments I practice for the recital I will perform in less than a week.

I practice, go to the gallery, have lunch with Oksana, sometimes dinner too, eat, sleep... and that is all.

Every now and then, the wedding planner responsible for our event sends a message or an email, which I usually answer after Oliver tells me it is my choice, because he wants the wedding to be exactly the way I want it.

Lately, we have spoken a little less than usual, but he still makes me smile when he tells me what Japan is like and how excited he is for us to go there together. The plan is to visit Tokyo after the honeymoon we decided to spend in Singapore and Maldives.

Maybe now I am convinced that the love I have for him does not reach even a quarter of the storm I feel in the Pakhan’s presence, but I am also convinced that once we start spending time together again, we will find our way back to each other enough to have a relationship based on respect, friendship, and stability.

From the way he speaks to me, he seems excited and impatient to return to London in a few days. I smile when he tells me he misses me, and I force myself to answer the same, even though in my heart, only one image takes shape when I say those words.

The monster’s face.

Artem is almost nonexistent.

Everything that happened in the first three