Chapter 68
2213words
Zurich | Kessler Villa Grounds | West Wing Study
Late Evening
The study smelled faintly of old leather and cedar smoke, the fire in the hearth reduced to a dim orange glow. Outside the tall windows, snow drifted in slow spirals over the dark gardens.
Fischer stood near the mantel, jacket unbuttoned, his expression taut but composed. Behind him, two of his most trusted men waited in the shadows, silent as statues. Lina was gone—removed from the room without ceremony, her fate now firmly in Kessler hands.
“You don’t need to worry about her,” Fischer said evenly, eyes flicking between Lucian, Eli, and Kristina. “I’ll handle this… quietly. But I’m asking you for time. This betrayal—it’s on me to contain. Let me clean house, fix what’s broken, and when it’s done… I’ll make you an offer again.”
Lucian’s gaze was steady. “We’ll think about it.”
Fischer inclined his head once, accepting the non-answer.
“But first,” Lucian continued, glancing toward Kristina, “we deal with her.”
Kristina’s jaw tightened, but she said nothing.
“Then we’re done here,” Eli said, already moving for the door.
Fischer stepped aside as they passed, the firelight catching in his eyes. “Safe travels. And for what it’s worth—this will never happen again.”
Lucian didn’t reply.
Minutes later, the cold night air hit them as they crossed the front drive toward the waiting car. The villa loomed behind them, its lights dimmed, its windows hiding whatever was about to happen inside.
No one looked back.
Zurich | Hotel Belvedere | Suite 1107
Late Evening (CET)
The elevator ride up was silent, six figures standing in tense stillness. The warmth inside the lift felt out of place after the cold night, but no one spoke.
When the doors slid open, they stepped into the quiet, carpeted hallway. Ash, Vex, and Sebastian peeled off without a word, heading toward their own rooms farther down the floor. Only Lucian, Kristina, and Eli continued toward Suite 1107.
Lucian unlocked the door, and the three slipped inside. The room was warm, still, faintly scented with cedarwood.
Kristina crossed the space without a glance at either of them.
So they know you’re a killer.
The words weren’t spoken aloud—only in her head—but they rang so clear she almost turned to see if someone had said them.
Lucian and Eli both noticed her stillness, the way she kept her gaze low. Eli frowned, puzzled, but didn’t speak. Lucian didn’t either, though his eyes followed her closely.
He knew this silence. He’d seen it before—Christmas Day, after the attack at his house. Eli hadn’t been there then, unreachable.
Without a word, Kristina walked into the bathroom and closed the door. A second later, the muted click of the lock broke the quiet.
Eli’s frown deepened. “She’s… okay?”
Lucian leaned back against the arm of the sofa, watching the closed door for a moment before answering. “I’ve seen this before,” he said quietly. “Last month. After the hit on my house—when you couldn’t be reached. She went quiet then, too. Not because she was hurt, but because she was holding something in.”
Eli glanced toward the bathroom again, still looking unsettled. “Holding what in?”
Lucian shook his head slightly. “That’s for her to tell you. Or not.”
The bathroom remained silent.
Kristina braced her hands against the porcelain sink, head lowered, breath uneven. The mirror threw her reflection back at her—blood at her temple, dirt smudged across her jaw, eyes too dark, too still.
… you’re a killer, Lina’s voice murmured, curling in her ear like smoke.
Her grip on the sink tightened.
They know you break bones. You draw blood. You leave people gasping on the ground.
Kristina twisted the faucet on, letting water rush over her hands, but the sound didn’t drown it out.
Eli’s looking at you differently already. Wondering what else you’ve done. What else you’ve kept from him.
Her jaw clenched until her teeth ached.
And then—without warning—the voice shifted.
But it wasn’t Lina anymore.
It was her.
Her own voice, low and certain:
… a killer.
The words landed heavier when they came from her. Like truth instead of an insult.
She froze, water still running over her fingers, eyes fixed on the mirror.
And Lucian—the voice—her voice—was colder now—he’ll keep you close. Not because he trusts you. Because it’s safer to keep the dangerous things where he can see them.
Her pulse quickened—not from fear, but from the dangerous possibility that it might be right.
No. The thought came hard, sharp, hers alone.
She wasn’t dangerous to them. She wasn’t.
…Or was she?
Memory rose unbidden—hands around a man’s throat, pressure building, a flash of red across her vision before the body went limp. No hesitation. No mercy.
And she’d felt… calm.
Kristina shut her eyes, willing the thoughts back into whatever dark place they’d come from.
When she opened them again, the mirror didn’t offer comfort.
It reflected someone who could be either—protector or predator—depending on the moment.
She didn’t know which one Eli and Lucian saw tonight.
She wasn’t entirely sure which one she saw herself.
Eli had been pacing near the window, his shadow moving back and forth across the pale carpet. He stopped when Lucian spoke.
“You’ve been working up the courage to say something,” Lucian said, his voice calm but not without weight.
Eli turned, jaw tight. “I know you said I didn’t need to apologize, but I really owe you one.” He hesitated, like the words were heavier than he’d expected. “For… what happened between Kristina and I.”
His gaze fell briefly to the floor, as though meeting Lucian’s eyes might make it harder. “I wanted it.”
Lucian didn’t move, but his eyes shifted, softer now, not guarded. “I expected it would happen eventually.”
Eli blinked, uncertain if he’d heard right. “You did?”
Lucian gave a small, measured nod. “And as strange as it feels to admit, I can’t bring myself to be angry at either of you.” He paused, letting the admission settle between them. “I suppose I’ve always known you cared about her. And she cares about you. Pretending I didn’t see that would’ve been lying to myself.”
Eli studied him, searching for the catch in those words, the sharp edge he half-expected. “So you’re telling me you’re fine with it?”
“I’m telling you I knew it was possible from the start,” Lucian replied, quieter now, but without retreat. “Maybe I’m too used to expecting betrayal. But this…” His gaze drifted, as if weighing the truth before saying it aloud. “…doesn’t feel like one.”
He leaned back slightly, eyes still locked on Eli. “I care for her too much to pretend she belongs to only one of us. And I trust you more than I want to admit. That trust… costs me more than you realize.”
Eli held his eyes for a long moment. “You’re a better man than I would be.”
Lucian’s mouth curved—half amusement, half resignation. “Don’t mistake acceptance for sainthood. Some things you live with, because the alternative is losing her entirely.”
Silence followed, thick enough to feel. Eli’s chest rose and fell with a slow breath, the tension in his shoulders only easing by a fraction. “I still feel like I crossed a line,” he admitted, voice low.
Lucian’s eyes flicked toward the closed bathroom door, his expression unreadable for a moment. “We’ve all been walking lines for a long time, Eli,” he said finally. “Some just take us places we didn’t plan to go. And some… we choose to keep walking anyway.”
The words hung there—part understanding, part warning, and something else neither of them was ready to name.
Kristina emerged from the bathroom, her hair still damp at the temples where she’d splashed cold water on her face. She didn’t meet either of their eyes at first, moving instead to the corner of the suite where her bag lay, as though the act of unzipping it required her full attention.
Eli watched her in the silence, brow tightening. He’d seen her come back from fights before—bruised, scraped, furious—but not like this. Not with that hollow weight behind her gaze.
“Kristina,” he said softly, “what’s wrong?”
She froze for just a beat too long. Then she turned, eyes bright but not in a way that meant joy.
“You both… say you love me.” Her voice was steady, but a faint tremor threaded the words. “Why?”
Eli’s chest tightened. “Why?”
“Yes.” Her gaze moved to Lucian for half a second before coming back. “Is it because I’m dangerous? Because it’s easier to keep me close than risk what I’d be if I weren’t in your sight?” She swallowed hard, voice softening to something almost fragile. “Or is it guilt? Is that what it is for you, Eli? You feel bad… and staying close to me makes you feel good about yourself?”
Her eyes shimmered, a single tear slipping down her cheek. She didn’t wipe it away.
Neither of them spoke immediately. Lucian’s jaw was set, unreadable, but his gaze stayed fixed on her. Eli opened his mouth, closed it, then tried again.
“It’s not—”
She cut him off with a faint shake of her head. “I just want to know how you see me. Am I someone you’d love… if I wasn’t a weapon?”
The air in the suite was still, thick with what she’d just placed between them. She sat down at the edge of the bed, shoulders drawn in, not crying loudly, but the silent tear-tracks on her face spoke louder than anything else.
Lucian had been silent long enough that the quiet became a presence of its own. When he finally spoke, his voice was even, but the weight in it left no room for misunderstanding.
“If I wanted a weapon, Kristina, I’d have one built. I wouldn’t need you.”
Her eyes flicked to his, startled not by the words, but by the sharp certainty behind them.
“I don’t keep you close because it’s safer,” he went on, leaning forward in his chair. “I keep you close because you matter. To me. In ways I don’t hand out lightly.” His gaze didn’t waver. “You’re not here because of what you can do. You’re here because of who you are.”
Eli exhaled quietly beside him. “And for me… no, it’s not guilt. Not anymore. Maybe it started that way, but that’s not why I stay. I stay because I want to. Because I—” His voice caught, “—because I love you, Kris. That’s it.”
She looked between them, the quiet stillness in her chest at war with the flicker of something warmer. The doubt didn’t vanish, but it bent under the weight of their words.
Lucian’s gaze softened, barely. “If you can’t believe what we’re saying now, then believe what we’ve done. Every time. Every choice. We’re still here.”
Her tears came slower now—not because she was any less conflicted, but because part of her wanted to believe them, and that was somehow more terrifying than the doubt.
Kristina let their words hang in the air, pressing against her chest like something too heavy to hold. She swallowed hard, then shook her head.
“You think this is about not believing you,” she said quietly. “It’s not. I believe you—both of you. That’s the problem.”
“I can’t…” Her voice thinned, and she forced herself to meet their eyes in turn. “I can’t choose between you. Every time I think I’ve decided, something pulls me back the other way. And it’s not fair. Not to either of you.”
She blinked away a tear. “So tell me—what am I supposed to do with that? When the truth is… I don’t want to lose either of you.”
The quiet that followed wasn’t awkward — it was too sharp for that.
Lucian didn’t look away from her. “Then don’t,” he said, low and certain. “You’re not a prize to be divided. You’re mine.”
Eli’s head turned sharply toward him, but Lucian didn’t flinch. “And his,” he added, like it was inevitable.
Kristina’s breath caught.
Eli didn’t argue. He looked at her instead, no resentment in his gaze—just acknowledgment.
Lucian’s tone softened. “Some things don’t need choosing. Some things… you keep whole.”
The silence that followed was full, weighted with an understanding none of them wanted to name.
Eli leaned forward. “You think we’d let you tear yourself apart trying to make this clean? No, Kristina. We’re not leaving room for that.”
She swallowed, her hands twisting together before Lucian’s reached out to still them. A moment later, Eli’s fingers brushed hers too. They weren’t asking for an answer. They’d already given her one.
For a long time, no one moved.
Kristina didn’t pull her hands away.
Lucian’s grip was steady. Eli’s touch was softer, resting without trying to claim.
Lucian leaned back slightly, but didn’t let go. “You’re not losing us,” he said.
Eli’s voice was quieter. “We’re not asking for an answer tonight. Or tomorrow. Just… stay with us.”
The words rippled through her. Stay. Not choose.
Kristina nodded.
Lucian brushed his knuckles against her jaw. “Good.”
Outside, a siren wailed in the distance.
For the first time in hours, Kristina wasn’t bracing for someone to walk away.
Some lines are meant to be walked together.
—To be continued.
