Lukas's POV
I clenched my jaw as she stood there — teetering between tipsy laughter and dangerous closeness. Her hand had just been on my chest, her eyes wide and full of questions I wasn't ready to answer. And then…
She didn't leave.She didn't walk away like I silently begged her to.
Instead, she stepped even closer — her scent wrapping around me like a curse I never wanted lifted — and she hugged me.
Tightly.
Her arms slid around my waist like they belonged there. Like she had every right to touch me, to lean her face against my chest and breathe like I was her calm.
I froze.
My hands hovered, fists clenched, but I didn't push her away.
I couldn't.Because I wanted this.So badly, I hated myself for it.
She was wearing that tiny skirt — legs exposed and soft, that mini top that showed just enough to make my thoughts unholy. Her skin, pale and delicate, like milk and silk and sin all rolled into one — I wanted to worship every inch of her. Slowly. Reverently. Like she was the altar I had been born to kneel before.
I shut my eyes, trying to get a grip.This wasn't me.This wasn't what I did.
But the girl in my arms?She wasn't just anyone.
She was Adeline Rosenthal Petrova — the girl I was ordered to protect… the girl I once watched from afar and now guarded like a treasure.The girl I should've left alone…But didn't.Couldn't.
My arms wrapped around her before I could stop myself, pulling her closer, feeling the rise and fall of her breath against my chest.
Her touch calmed the storm in me… and yet, she was the storm.
"You're drunk," I whispered into her hair, my lips barely grazing the top of her head.
"Mmhmm," she hummed softly, not letting go. "But I'm safe. You're here."
Those words.So innocent.So damn dangerous.
If she knew the kind of things I'd done…The blood on my hands…The scars on my soul…She wouldn't hold me like this.
But she did.
And I?I held her like a sinner craving forgiveness he knew he didn't deserve.
I didn't know how long we stood like that.Her body molded against mine, her warmth sinking into me like a drug. Her fingers curled against the back of my shirt like she never wanted to let go.
God help me… I didn't want her to.
But I had to remind myself: I was a weapon.And she… was light.
She didn't know it yet, but if she stayed too close to me, she would burn.
And still — for just that moment — I let her.
Her cheek was still against my chest, her arms still holding on like I was something steady in her spinning world.
And then… she whispered the one question I'd been running from since the day she laid eyes on me.
"Why do you have that scar?"
Her voice was soft, nearly drowned by the muffled bass of the music vibrating through the cabin walls. But I heard her. Loud and clear.
My breath hitched.
I could feel her eyes looking up at me now, heavy with curiosity and something deeper — something dangerously close to care.
I didn't speak.
I didn't move.
I just stood still, letting that silence hang like a blade above our heads.
She lifted her hand, fingers brushing over my chest where the old bullet scar lay etched into skin. Her touch was light, but it burned.
"You're drunk, doll," I murmured, my voice rough, coated in something I didn't dare name. I didn't want to lie — but I needed to deflect. "Let's not do this now."
She didn't back away.
"I know I'm drunk," she whispered, looking up at me through lashes that blinked slowly. "But I'm in my senses, Lukas… I've seen scars like that before. On people who took bullets for others. On people who killed. And you're not just some normal bodyguard, are you?"
The words cut deeper than any bullet ever had.
I closed my eyes, jaw clenched.
She was right — and it scared the hell out of me. Not because I was ashamed of what I'd done… but because I didn't want her to carry the weight of it. To know the kind of man who stood in front of her, and still not run.
"Please," I said quietly, a raw edge in my voice, "Can we not talk about this right now?"
She tilted her head, studying me like she already knew.
"Okay," she nodded gently, like she could feel the war inside me. But her next words shattered whatever walls I had left.
"But one day… I hope you'll trust me enough to tell me."
I exhaled shakily, my hand moving up to the back of her head, cradling it gently.
"One day," I whispered "maybe I will."
And for the first time in years, I meant it.
Even if that day meant breaking myself open.
Even if it meant letting her see the monster I'd tried so hard to hide.
Because she was no longer just the girl I protected…She was becoming the reason I breathed.
She fell asleep beside me sometime after that — her head resting on my shoulder, her breath soft and steady, like she wasn't just lying next to a man built of scars and shadows. Like I wasn't dangerous.
And maybe… that's what scared me the most.
I sat there, in the silence that followed the laughter and music from earlier. The air smelled like ashwood and sweet perfume — her perfume — and all I could think was:
How can I tell her I trust her… when I don't even trust myself?
She sees me as her protector. Her anchor.But I've broken things before.Killed without hesitation.Painted my life in blood because the world never gave me a choice.
And if she knew…If she really knew what I've done — the weight of bodies I've buried, the orders I've given, the chaos I command —
Would she still look at me like I'm her safe place?Or would she finally see the monster hiding behind this suit and these carefully controlled words?
I clenched my fists.
She doesn't know that the man who guards her like a shadow is the same man the world fears. The same man who, with a single command, could make empires fall.
What if she hates me?What if, the moment I tell her the truth — the whole truth — her soft eyes harden, her voice turns cold, and she walks away?
Could I survive that?
No.
The answer is no.
Because she's no longer just the job.
She's the only thing keeping me human.
And if I lose her…
Then maybe I don't deserve to stay human anymore.
The cabin was quiet now, only the soft crackle of the fire outside and the distant sound of crickets filling the silence. I should've moved — should've put some distance between us — but I didn't. Couldn't.
Not when she was this close.Not when she trusted me enough to fall asleep leaning on me.
But suddenly, she stirred. A soft shift of her body — delicate, like the flutter of a butterfly's wing — and I stiffened.Her breathing changed.And then… her eyes opened.
Those eyes.Those hazel brown eyes that haunted me more than my past ever could.
She didn't speak right away. Her gaze was blank for a second, distant — like she was seeing something I couldn't. Something far away, buried deep in her mind.My heart clenched.
Her head was still resting on my shoulder, her skin warm against mine.But then she turned — slowly — and looked at me.
And I froze.
The moonlight streaming through the large window touched her face like a kiss, making her features glow. She looked ethereal. Untouchable. Like something fragile carved by God himself.Her eyes blinked once.Twice.
"You okay?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.I didn't trust myself to speak louder. Not when she was looking at me like that — like I wasn't just a man, but a riddle she was trying to solve.
She didn't answer at first. Just kept staring. As if she saw something in me that even I didn't know was there.
And then, barely audible, she said, "You were there... in the dream."
I stiffened again. "What?"
Her eyes glazed slightly, but her tone stayed calm — too calm. "You were there. But your hands… they were covered in blood."
My chest tightened.She didn't know.She couldn't know.
And yet, somehow… her nightmares, her past — maybe they were starting to remember things. Things buried.
I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear gently. "It was just a dream, doll."
But I knew better.
And so did she.
Because sometimes, dreams aren't just dreams.Sometimes, they're memories clawing their way out.
Her words hit harder than any bullet I had ever taken.
"You were fifteen… or something," she murmured, voice slurred from the alcohol but the weight of her words sobered me instantly."I was five… before leaving to America. I saw you… in a dark alley…"She blinked slowly, her lashes fluttering like fragile wings."You were… covered in blood… and something…"Her brows furrowed in confusion as she tried to grasp the memory, and then, with a heavy breath, her eyes slipped shut again.
Silence.
I sat there, completely still, her body still pressed gently against mine — and yet, I had never felt more exposed.
My throat tightened.That night… she remembered that night.Faint. Blurry. Broken in pieces — but the memory was clawing its way back.
I had been foolish to think she'd never recall it.That a child would forget the sight of a boy standing over a bloodied man in a cold alley, a gun still warm in his hand.
I clenched my jaw, every instinct screaming to protect her — even from me.Because if she remembers more… if the entire puzzle comes back together…
She'll know who I really am.What I really am.
Not the quiet, overprotective bodyguard.Not the man who carries her bags and shields her from danger.
But the one who is danger.A boy born in blood. A man carved from vengeance.A mafia heir with sins so deep even God couldn't cleanse them.
I swallowed hard.
She shifted slightly in her sleep, curling closer to me like I was something warm and safe — not the monster her five-year-old self had seen that night.
I tightened my arms around her, helpless against the ache growing inside my chest.
How the hell was I supposed to protect her from the truth…When she was already remembering?
Meanwhile…
Whispers travel fast in the underworld.
And the name Lukas Volkoff wasn't just a name — it was a warning.
To some, it meant fear.To others, it meant power.But to his rivals? It meant one thing:
Opportunity.
Because for the first time…The ruthless mafia king had shown a weakness.
And she wasn't just anyone.
She was Adeline Petrova — the reclusive, elegant daughter of Zane Petrova.Untouchable. Hidden away for years. A princess with no trace of the blood she came from.Until now.
Until he started protecting her.
Until Lukas Volkoff, the man who had once slaughtered entire families for betrayal, stood beside her like a loyal knight to a queen.
The whispers turned to plans.The plans turned to threats.And in the shadows, rivals grinned at the unfolding chaos.
"The king's hands are full… let's see if he can protect his little doll when we come knocking."
They didn't care about the girl.They cared about the fall —The way he'd burn the world for her…Or how he might destroy himself trying.
Because now it wasn't about turf.It wasn't about drugs or power or weapons.
Now it was personal.
And the second Lukas found out…
He would remind the world why his name alone made grown men drop to their knees.