Chapter 4 4

Sienna waited until the sound of Viktor's footsteps faded entirely before moving to the desk. Her hands trembled as she reached for the stack of papers concealing the photograph. She hesitated, her instincts warning her against prying any further, but curiosity-and the need to understand Viktor's vulnerabilities-overpowered her caution.

Sliding the papers aside, she pulled the photograph free once more. The girl's smile tugged at something deep within her, a stark contrast to the cold, calculated man she had been facing just moments ago.

"Who are you?" Sienna whispered to the image, tracing the outline of the child's face.

The door creaked.

She spun around, the photo clutched tightly in her hand. A man stood in the doorway, not Viktor but someone equally intimidating. He was shorter than Viktor, lean but wiry, with piercing green eyes and a jagged scar cutting across his cheek.

"Boss told you not to touch anything," he said in accented English, his voice low and dangerous.

Sienna straightened her spine, quickly slipping the photograph behind her back. "And who are you? Viktor's babysitter?"

The man's expression didn't change, but his eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of amusement flashing across his face. "Viktor doesn't need a babysitter. But he doesn't like when people don't follow orders."

"Good thing I'm not one of his people," she retorted, though her heart was pounding in her chest.

The man stepped further into the room, his boots heavy on the wooden floor. He glanced at the desk, then back at her, his gaze sharp as a blade. "He's going easy on you. I wouldn't push your luck."

"Easy?" Sienna scoffed, though her palms were slick with sweat. "Is that what you call kidnapping? He's got a funny way of showing mercy."

The man's lips twitched again, but his voice remained cold. "You're alive, aren't you? That's more than most can say after crossing Viktor."

Sienna didn't respond, and the man tilted his head, as if studying her. "You're different. I don't know if it's bravery or stupidity keeping you standing."

"Maybe it's both," she shot back, her tone sharper than she intended.

The man smirked faintly before stepping back toward the door. "You should remember something, journalist. Viktor doesn't keep people around without a reason. And if you think you're the exception, you're not."

The door closed behind him with a solid thunk, leaving Sienna alone once more. She exhaled shakily, her grip on the photograph tightening.

Who was the girl? And why did Viktor keep the picture hidden away, as if it were a secret too dangerous to reveal?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of voices echoing from outside. Sienna crept to the door, pressing her ear against the wood to catch fragments of the conversation.

"...Nadia won't stop," a deep voice said. It was Viktor.

"She's already made her move," another voice replied. "If we wait too long, she'll gain the upper hand."

"I know," Viktor growled. "But she's not expecting me to retaliate this quickly. We'll strike tonight."

Sienna's stomach twisted. Retaliation? What kind of retaliation? And who was Nadia to him?

She leaned harder against the door, straining to hear more.

"She's doing this to bait you," the other man said. "You know that, don't you?"

A pause. Then Viktor's voice, low and lethal. "If she wants to play games, she'll regret it. I'm done giving her chances."

The conversation ended abruptly, and Sienna scrambled back from the door, her heart racing. Viktor wasn't just planning to strike back-he was planning something bigger.

And somehow, she was in the middle of it.

Before she could gather her thoughts, the door opened again. This time, Viktor himself walked in, his expression unreadable.

"Enjoying yourself?" he asked, his tone sharp.

Sienna quickly tucked the photograph into her back pocket, masking her nerves with feigned indifference. "Oh, absolutely. The accommodations are lovely."

Viktor's eyes darkened, his gaze flickering to the desk before settling on her. "I warned you not to touch anything."

"I was just looking around," she said, lifting her chin defiantly. "Not much else to do when you're a prisoner."

He stepped closer, his presence as overwhelming as ever. "Careful, Sienna. You don't want to test me."

"Or what?" she challenged, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. "You'll kill me? Torture me? Go ahead, Viktor. Prove to me how ruthless you really are."

For a moment, she thought she'd gone too far. But instead of anger, Viktor's expression shifted-just slightly. It was a flicker of something she couldn't quite name. Regret, maybe? Or guilt?

"You think you know me," he said quietly, his voice tinged with something raw. "But you don't. And you don't want to."

He turned abruptly, walking toward the door. Before leaving, he stopped and looked back at her, his gaze heavy.

"Stay out of my way," he said. "And don't make me regret sparing your life."

The door slammed shut, and Sienna sank into the nearest chair, her mind spinning.

Who was Viktor Ivanov? And why did it feel like every answer she found only led to more questions?