Entangled

The delicate lace trim of her satin mini dress felt soft against her fingertips as Sapphire adjusted the neckline in the tall full body mirror. It was a pale lavender shade, striking against her tan skin, clinging to her waist before flaring out just enough to accentuate her hips. She pulled the lace trim down a fraction, admiring the way her boobs looked under the warm, crystal chandelier light of the master suite.

Today was supposed to be a turning point. It was the first time Ivan had agreed to step away from the endless demands of the Yuriev Bratva to take her out on a proper date—just the two of them, without armed escorts breathing down their necks or stacks of ledgers waiting on his desk. She gathered her long, thick, dark wavy hair up, twisting the curls between her fingers as she debated whether to pin it up or let it fall over her shoulders. A faint smile touched her lips.

Then the doors of the master suite burst open, slamming hard against the hand-carved molding.

Sapphire turned around quickly, recognizing those familiar footsteps even before her eyes caught up to the noise. "Is he here already?" she asked the quiet, spacious room, her tone light, half-expecting to see him leaning against the door frame with his usual cool, arrogant composure.

The words died in her throat.

Ivan stood in the entryway, his body swaying dangerously. He wasn't wearing his suit jacket, and his white dress shirt was ruined—drenched in blood that was rapidly spreading across his chest and stomach.

She screamed, dropping her hairpins as she bolted across the floor toward him.

Ivan groaned, "Ugh... Fuck," he rasped, clutching his bleeding chest with a trembling, glove-stained hand. "I'm bleeding out... I won't be able to stand for long at this rate."

Before she could reach him, his knees buckled. His tall frame hit the hardwood with a thud, coughing as he collapsed onto his side.

"Ivan! Ivan!" Sapphire dropped to her knees beside him, her hands hovering in panic.

Her eyes darted over him—the rough tearing of his white shirt, the warm blood already pooling over the dark rug beneath them, coating his arms and staining his pale skin. His striking silver eyes beneath his swept-back blonde hair, were dulling fast.

"Can you hear me, Ivan?" Tears welled up in her amber-brown eyes, blinding her vision as she reached out to clutch his shoulders. "What's wrong? What happened to you? Please talk to me"

The volume of blood was staggering. It bubbled past his fingers, soaking into the hem of her satin dress. Horrified, Sapphire reached her hands toward his chest to apply pressure, but as her palms hovered an inch above the gaping wound, a cold jolt struck her spine.

What am I doing? the thought pierced through the screaming noise in her head. The right choice for me was to stick to the plan... I'm supposed to kill him. He's supposed to die.

The realization hit her like a freight truck, choking the breath out of her lungs. Her mind raced wildly, spinning through months of captivity, fear, and suppressed rage. Yet, as she stared down at the man who held her entire world in his iron grip, her hands moved on their own. Panic swallowed her resolve whole.

She scrambled across the floor, her dress catching on her knees, searching wildly for anything to stem the flow. Spotting her long white silk scarf draped across the edge of the king-sized bed, she snatched it up and threw herself back down at his side.

She pressed the folded silk directly on the wound on his chest, leaning her weight into it. "Stay with me, please... Stay with me..." Her voice cracked, "I don't know what I'm doing, I shouldn't be doing this but please stay with me, Ivan"

She pressed harder, the lavender fabric turning dark red instantly, slipping beneath her palms.

"Did Nicolas do this?" she yelled through her sobs, her mind fracturing under the weight of what was happening. "But I told him—I told him not today"

Ivan let out a weak breath beneath her hands. "Zayka..."

The arrogant edge that usually defined his Kestovian accent was gone, replaced by a soft, fading whisper that terrified her far more than his anger ever had.

"I'm here. Please talk to me, don't lose consciousness!" Sapphire cried out, her eyes wide with terror as she maintained pressure on his chest, her hands slick with his blood. "I always see people doing this on the TV... I don't know if it works, I don't know, but I hope it does"

Slowly, painfully, Ivan raised his left hand. His blood-stained fingers trembled as he reached up, gently cupping the side of her face, his thumb brushing away a trail of her tears.

"Zayka..." he muttered, a smile touching his pale lips as he coughed up a thread of dark crimson. "There is no need to pretend... I know it was you."

Sapphire gasped, her heart stopping in her chest. "Huh?"

"You did this to me," Ivan rasped, his silver eyes locking onto hers, "You betrayed me...Again, You betrayed our children... Zayka... my beloved wife..."

"No—Ivan, no!"

His hand went limp, slipping from her cheek and crashing onto the bloody floor. His eyes rolled back, his eyelids finally shutting tight. His chest stopped rising.

Sapphire froze, her entire body locking up as the quiet in the room expanded for agonizing minutes. She gasped, clutching her own chest as if her heart were breaking through her ribs.

"No... No... No... I—I—oh God, please wake up, Ivan!"

She shook his shoulders, but his body was unresponsive, and growing cold beneath her touch. The delicate lace of her dress was entirely soaked in his blood now, turning the pale lavender into a horrifying, wet crimson.

Before the screams could leave her throat again, the echo of footsteps began to resound down the long corridor outside the suite.

Sapphire raised her tear-streaked face toward the open doorway.

Stepping casually over the threshold was Nicolas Moretti. He looked immaculately tailored, clad in a black dress shirt, dark trousers, and a coat resting over his shoulders. His dark brown hair fell over his eyes and his grey eyes swept over the gruesome scene with amused detachment.

"Come now, Bellissima," Nicolas spoke, his deep voice carrying a dark, purring Vellatria lilt as a smirk spread across his face. "I feel deeply insulted to see you crying over this bastard."

Sapphire broke down completely, falling over Ivan's chest, her fingers digging into his ruined shirt. "He was the father of my kids" she sobbed, holding up her hands, staring in horror at the thick, sticky blood coating her palms. "I killed the father of my children... I killed Ivan... I killed my husband..."

Nicolas took a step into the room, scoffing softly. "But that was your biggest wish, Bellissima. You wanted him dead. He ruined your life—did you forget how you crawled on your knees, begging me to kill your 'husband'?"

The words hit Sapphire like a wave of nausea. Something snapped behind her eyes. Fragmented memories—secret meetings, hushed phone calls in the dead of night, her own tear-choked voice begging Nicolas to rid her of the Bratva boss—came rushing back vividly.

She raised her bloodied palms toward her face, staring deeply into the crimson lines on her skin as if trapped in a dark trance. Her eyes lost their light, turning dull and empty.

"No..." she muttered, her voice barely a whisper. "I was just angry... That was all... It was just anger..."

Nicolas scoffed, taking another slow step forward. "And you had every right to be angry Bellissima after all he killed your mother. Besides, those kids aren't yours. Did you lose a few memories while playing the role of the submissive wife?"

"Not... not my children..." Sapphire repeated numbly to the floor, her mind fracturing as she tried to force herself to accept the truth—that Lulia, Katya, and little Nika were not hers, no matter how deeply she had come to love them.

While Sapphire remained hunched over Ivan's lifeless body, weeping silently, Nicolas strolled across the room. The leather soles of his shoes left bloody footprints in his wake. He stopped right beside her, leaning down close. Without using his hands, he extended the steel barrel of his custom handgun, using it to slowly trail down the thin, delicate strap of her dress.

"If you're so desperate to be a mother," Nicolas murmured, his eyes lingering on her bare shoulder, "I will give you all the children you want."

Behind him, standing near the doorway, Matteo let out a loud, mocking laugh. "Since when do you like kids, boss?"

Nicolas didn't even bother looking back at his underboss. "Bellissima seems to be obsessed with kids... and I certainly can't let another man give her children now, can I?"

Matteo chuckled again, while Luca stood silently beside him, his expression stern and vigilant as he kept watch over the corridor.

Nicolas lowered his gun, reaching out with a hand to cup Sapphire's chin, forcing her face up until her tear-filled eyes were locked onto his grey ones. "I will take care of you," he promised, his lips curling into a wicked smile.

The touch snapped Sapphire out of her trance. A sudden wave of terror flooded her chest. She pulled her chin back, scrambling backward across the floor away from him, her slick hands slipping on the wood.

"I... I don't want that," she stammered, her voice shaking violently. "That... that was not the plan"

Nicolas took slow steps toward her, tracking her movement like a predator cornering a wounded prey. "What was the plan, Sapphire? That I help you kill Ivan so you can be free? So you can run back to that filthy strip club Xnet, whoring yourself out for a few cents?"

"I am not a whore..." Sapphire muttered, her breath coming in shallow hitches.

Her back finally hit the cold wall near the corner of the room. With nowhere left to run, her blood-stained hands trembled as she clutched them tight against her chest.

Nicolas finally reached her, stopping just inches away. He leaned over her, his eyes sliding downward, taking in the state of her dress. "You look exceptionally pretty in this dress," he purred, his gaze glued to her cleavage. "I can only imagine what you would look like out of it."

Panicking, Sapphire pulled at the hem of the short dress, trying to stretch the satin down to cover her bare, blood-streaked legs from his invasive gaze.

Nicolas merely laughed at the useless gesture,

Reaching into the inner pocket of his tailored coat, he pulled out a pre-filled medical syringe. He removed the plastic cap with his teeth, spitting it onto the floor, and clicked the plunger three times to clear the air.

Sapphire's eyes widened in sheer panic. "What—what are you doing, Nicola—"

Before she could finish the sentence or push him away, Nicolas leaned down with blinding speed, plunging the thin needle directly into the side of her neck.

Sapphire gasped as the cold chemical burned into her bloodstream. Within seconds, her vision blurred. The room tilted sideways, the warm lights of the chandelier stretching into long ribbons of yellow. Her eyelids fluttered, her strength draining out of her limbs until her body went completely limp against the wall.

Nicolas caught her before she hit the floor, a dark, victorious smile spreading across his face. "You belong to me now," he whispered against her ear.

He scooped her up, hoisting her unconscious body over his broad shoulder. Her long hair spilled down his back, trailing over his coat. He looked down at his leather shoes, grimacing slightly at the crimson staining the leather.

"That bitch Ivan..." Nicolas muttered softly. "Even in death, he still manages to annoy me."

He turned and strode toward the master suite doors, pausing at the doorframe to look back over his shoulder at the body lying motionless in the center of the room. His smile widened into something cruel. "Who knew we needed only a woman to kill this fucker?"

Matteo stepped aside to let him pass, shaking his head. "I'd already started thinking he was immortal, given how he survived all our previous attempts."

"Now he is with his mother," Nicolas replied coldly, continuing down the hallway.

Luca stepped into the doorway, peering at the bloody scene before looking back at his boss. "Should we take care of the body?"

Nicolas stopped, turning his head slightly as Sapphire shifted uselessly over his shoulder.

"No," Nicolas said, his voice dripping with malice. "I want his kids to see him like this. It would be great if they slipped and fell in his blood."

He adjusted his grip on Sapphire, pulling her closer against his chest as a dark, obsessive warmth settled in his chest. Let the Yuriev name burn to ash, he thought to himself, his eyes dropping to the dark curls resting against his shoulder. Ivan built an empire, but I took the only piece of it that mattered. She's never leaving my sight again.

With a final glance at the silent suite, Nicolas walked down the grand staircase, leaving the bloody, motionless body of Ivan Alexandrovich Yuriev lying cold on the floor.