The steady bumps in the road jostled Fia’s head against a mildly cushioned surface, the dull ache in her skull throbbing in protest. A groggy haze wrapped around her, thick and disorienting, making it nearly impossible to piece together where she was or what had happened. Her vision blurred as she forced her heavy eyelids open, her breath hitching when she was met with the sinister smirk of Viktor, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement.
He was leaning over the back of the last row of seats, his posture relaxed, predatory. The sickly sweet smile he wore sent an icy chill down her spine.
Fia’s stomach twisted. She knew that look. Viktor had always enjoyed wielding power over her, loved the fear he could instill with the mere clench of his jaw or a well-timed glare. He had relished control back then, and from the way he was looking at her now, nothing had changed.
Then it hit her.
Mia.
She twisted her bound wrists against the restraints and turned her head sharply, ignoring the pounding in her skull. Mia was beside her, unmoving, her head lolling slightly with the sway of the moving vehicle. A dried line of blood trailed from the side of her forehead, staining her pale skin a rusted crimson. The sight ignited a fury within Fia that momentarily burned away her fear.
“Mia,” she called, her voice hoarse and raw with panic. She nudged her friend as gently as she could with her shoulder, but Mia didn’t stir. “Mia, wake up,” she pleaded, desperation tightening in her chest.
Viktor chuckled, the sound grating against her nerves like nails on glass.
“What did you do to her?” Fia snapped, her anger cutting through the fog in her mind. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Viktor barely batted an eye at her outburst, the amusement in his expression never wavering. He had always loved her fire, her defiance—it was part of what had drawn him to her in the first place. She had been a challenge, and Viktor relished a challenge. It was what made her his.
Fia knew better.
“Let us go,” she demanded, struggling against the zip ties digging into her wrists. “You can’t do this.”
“Oh, but I can, sweetheart,” Viktor mused, tilting his head as though she were a mere child throwing a tantrum. “And I already have.”
Fia swallowed the lump forming in her throat, her mind racing for a way out of this. Her heart pounded as she thought of Emiliano, of how he’d react when he found out. The mere thought of his name brought a flicker of hope—he would come for her. He had to. He wouldn’t let Viktor take her away.
The second Emiliano’s name left her lips, Viktor’s entire demeanor shifted. The darkness in his eyes became something more dangerous, something unhinged. His jaw clenched, his fingers tightening around the headrest in front of him until his knuckles turned white.
“You are mine,” he growled, the words sharp, final. “Not his.”
Fia’s breath hitched, the raw possessiveness in his voice rattling her. She had heard this tone before—back when she had been too naive to see the warning signs. Back when she had ignored the controlling nature, the way he wielded fear like a weapon. She had once thought she could handle him, that she could manage the storm inside him. But she had learned.
That’s why she had left in the dead of night, taking only what she could carry, escaping without a trace. And now, somehow, he had found her.
“Where are you taking us?” she whispered, her voice laced with fear.
Viktor smiled again, that same sickly sweet expression stretching across his face like a mask.
“Home,” he answered simply. “A place where the Bianchis are forbidden to step foot.”
"The Bianchis are the oldest clan alive... there is no where they are forbidden," Fia retorted. Fiercely defending her mate.
Viktor sighed dramatically, straightening up as he turned his gaze toward the darkened road ahead. “Home, my sweet. We’re going home.”
Fia’s heart hammered against her ribs. “Home? You mean your home. In Russia.”
His eyes flickered with amusement. “Da.”
“You bastard! You can’t—”
“I can, and I have,” Viktor interrupted smoothly. His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it, sharp as a blade. “No one will come for you there. You see, Bianchis are not welcome in my country. My land is sacred, untouched by their influence. You should know this, Fia. Emiliano must have told you.”
Fia’s breath hitched. Emiliano had explained it, but at the time, she had been too overwhelmed with his revelations to think much of it. Now, the words came flooding back.
“The Bianchis are different,” Emiliano had told her two nights ago. They had been sitting in her apartment, his hands balled up at his sides as he tried to explain the world she was about to step into.
“Different how?” she had asked.
“My family controls one of the most powerful lycan territories in the world. Unlike other clans, we don’t simply exist in the shadows. We are the law. The Bianchi name alone is enough to keep our enemies at bay, but it also makes us a target. That’s why we don’t venture into territories we can’t control.”
“Like where?”
"Like Russia... Viktor's clan..."
"Viktor is one of you?" Fia asked incredulously.
A muscle in Emiliano’s jaw had ticked. “Yes. His clan is old, but they rule differently. They don’t abide by honor. They take what they want, and they rule through fear. That’s why they hate us. Because we are the only ones who have ever stood in their way.”
Now, sitting in the back of Viktor’s truck, those words felt heavier than ever.
Fia glared at Viktor. “You hate the Bianchis because they don’t cower to you.”
Viktor chuckled darkly. “You say that as if they are noble.” He shook his head. “No, my sweet, the bad blood between our families runs far deeper than that. Hundreds of years ago, before the Bianchis became the so-called enforcers of our kind, my people ruled with an iron fist. The old ways were upheld. Blood was power. Mates were chosen, not fated. Strength determined your place, not birthright.”
Fia’s stomach twisted. “You mean your people enslaved their own kind.”
Viktor’s lips curled in amusement. “Call it what you like. We were thriving. And then the Bianchis decided they were better. They formed their alliances, enforced their laws, and drove us out of the western lands. They claimed they were bringing order, but all they did was steal what was rightfully ours.”
Fia scoffed. “Maybe they were just ending a reign of terror.”
Viktor’s eyes darkened. “That’s what Emiliano would tell you. But he doesn’t know the whole truth. Your lover’s family wasn’t just enforcing laws, Fia. They were rewriting history. They slaughtered my ancestors and claimed righteousness in the process.” He leaned in closer, his breath hot against her ear. “And now, I get to finish what they started. By taking something they want.”
A chill ran down Fia’s spine.
“You think you own me, but you don’t,” she said through gritted teeth.
Viktor simply smiled. “That’s where you’re wrong. Because once you’re in my territory, there is no escaping. Not even your precious Emiliano can save you.”Fia’s stomach twisted.
No.
If Viktor was taking her back to his home country, she was in more danger than she had realized. Emiliano couldn’t come for her. He wouldn’t be able to. Whatever protections the Bianchi family had in their territory wouldn’t extend past the borders of a land where they had no power.
She turned her gaze back to Mia, dread curling in her gut. They had to get out of this.
And they had to do it soon.