Chapter 6 Under His Guard

The silence after violence was always the loudest.

Elara sat on the edge of the bed long after the penthouse had been secured, her hands resting limply in her lap. The world outside the windows looked the same-lights glittering, traffic flowing, life continuing as if nothing had happened-but she felt permanently altered.

She had watched men die.

Not on a screen. Not in stories whispered behind closed doors.

She had watched it happen because of her.

A soft knock came at the door.

She tensed instinctively.

"It's me," Nikolai said.

She didn't answer, but she didn't tell him to go away either.

The door opened quietly. He stepped inside, no longer armed, his movements slower than before, the edge of battle finally worn away. There was a faint smear of blood on his knuckles-not his own.

Her stomach churned.

"You should sleep," he said.

"I can't," she replied.

He nodded once, as if he had expected that answer. He moved toward the window, standing a few feet away from her, giving her space she hadn't asked for but suddenly needed.

"They're gone," he said. "Anyone who came for you tonight won't try again."

"That doesn't sound comforting," she murmured.

"It should," he replied. "It means they learned."

She swallowed. "Learned what?"

"That touching what's mine has consequences."

The words landed heavily.

She looked up at him sharply. "I'm not yours."

Nikolai didn't turn. "You're under my guard."

"That doesn't make me property."

"No," he said quietly. "It makes you a responsibility."

Her breath caught.

Responsibility sounded different from possession. Heavier. More permanent.

She rubbed her arms, suddenly cold. "How many people have tried to use me like that?"

He turned to face her then, his gaze steady. "Tonight was the first time."

"That's a lie," she said. "My whole life-"

"I mean like this," he interrupted. "As a weapon against me."

Her heart skipped. "So it's not about my father anymore."

"It hasn't been for a while," he admitted.

Fear flickered. "Then why am I still here?"

Nikolai studied her carefully. "Because sending you away would be more dangerous than keeping you."

"To who?" she asked.

"To you," he replied immediately.

She laughed weakly. "You call this safe?"

He took a step closer. "No. I call it survivable."

The honesty in his voice unsettled her.

She hesitated, then asked the question that had been clawing at her chest since the shooting stopped. "Did anyone die because of me?"

Nikolai didn't answer right away.

"Yes," he said finally. "But they made their choice before they ever reached this building."

Tears burned behind her eyes. She blinked hard, refusing to let them fall.

"I don't want this world," she whispered.

"I know," he said softly.

"Then why drag me deeper into it?"

"Because it dragged you in first," he replied. "I'm just keeping you alive inside it."

She closed her eyes, exhaustion crashing over her in a heavy wave. For the first time since she'd been taken, the fight drained out of her completely.

Nikolai noticed immediately.

"Lie down," he said.

She shook her head. "If I sleep, I'll dream about it."

"I won't let anything touch you," he said.

She looked at him skeptically. "You can't control my dreams."

"No," he agreed. "But I can make sure you wake up."

Something in his tone-quiet, unwavering-made her chest ache.

She lay back slowly, curling onto her side. The bed dipped slightly as Nikolai sat on the edge, far enough not to crowd her, close enough that she knew he was there.

"You're not staying," she said.

"I am," he replied.

"I don't need a guard in my room."

"Tonight, you do."

Her eyelids fluttered. "You never sleep."

"I will," he said. "Later."

She didn't argue again.

Elara woke to warmth.

For a brief, disorienting moment, she thought she was home-safe, young, untouched by fear. Then memory crashed back in, sharp and merciless.

She inhaled sharply-and froze.

An arm was draped loosely around her waist.

Her body stiffened instantly.

She lifted her head slowly, heart pounding.

Nikolai lay beside her, fully clothed, his back against the headboard, eyes closed. His arm rested around her with unconscious ease, protective rather than possessive, as though her presence had been accounted for even in sleep.

She stared at him, torn between panic and something dangerously close to comfort.

She should move.

She didn't.

The truth settled uncomfortably in her chest.

She felt safer like this.

Nikolai stirred slightly, his fingers flexing against her side before he became still again.

Her breath caught.

Carefully, she shifted, testing the space. His arm tightened reflexively, pulling her closer before he even woke.

"Elara," he murmured, voice rough with sleep.

Her name sounded different like that. Softer.

"I'm awake," she whispered.

His eyes opened slowly, dark and alert almost instantly. He seemed to register their position at the same time she did.

A pause.

Then he released her immediately, sitting up. "I didn't-"

"I know," she said quickly. "I moved."

Silence stretched.

"Did you sleep?" he asked.

"Yes," she admitted.

His gaze lingered on her face, assessing. "Good."

She sat up, pulling the covers around herself. "You didn't have to stay."

"Yes," he said simply. "I did."

She hesitated. "Why?"

He looked away briefly. "Because fear leaves marks. I won't let it leave one on you tonight."

Her throat tightened.

She hadn't expected kindness. Especially not from a man like him.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

Nikolai's jaw tightened as if the word unsettled him.

"You should eat," he said, changing the subject. "You haven't since yesterday."

She nodded faintly.

As he stood to leave, she spoke again. "Nikolai?"

He paused at the door.

"If I wasn't here," she asked, "would this still be happening?"

He didn't answer right away.

"Yes," he said finally. "Just to someone else."

The honesty was brutal.

After he left, Elara sat in silence, staring at the place he had been.

She was still his captive.

Still trapped in his world.

But for the first time since she'd been taken, the lines were blurring-and that frightened her more than the guns ever could.

Because cages were easier to escape than bonds.

And Nikolai Volkov was no longer just the Devil King who held her.

He was becoming the man standing between her and everything that wanted to destroy her.