Chapter 6: The Weight of Rain and Mud
The cold Pennsylvania drizzle turned the gravel driveway into a slick expanse of dark mud that sucked at the heels of my boots as Viktor and I walked toward the front porch of Sarah Miller’s farmhouse. The yellow porch light cast a pale, weak glow through the damp autumn air, struggling against the encroaching dusk. Every step felt heavier than the last, the wet wind stinging my cheeks and plastered dark strands of hair across my forehead. Viktor walked beside me, his long wool coat dark with moisture, his shoulders squared against the chill. He didn't look at me, but his hand hovered close to his side, ready for any threat, real or imagined.
"Remember," I whispered, my breath pluming white in the freezing air as we reached the bottom of the wooden steps. "He doesn't know you. He thinks the world is safe. If you come in like a storm, you'll break him."
Viktor paused, his dark eyes shifting from the glowing front window back to my face. The harsh lines around his mouth softened for a fraction of a second, a fleeting ghost of the man I had known before the guards, the galas, and the gilded cage in the city. "I know how to be gentle," he muttered, though the rasp in his voice betrayed how foreign the concept had become to him.
Before I could answer, the wooden front door creaked open. Sarah Miller stood in the threshold, wiping her hands on a worn floral apron. Her eyes widened in immediate terror as she recognized me, then darted to the tall, bearded figure towering beside me in the shadows. Her gaze locked onto Viktor's neck tattoos and the rigid, intimidating posture that screamed organized crime and dangerous power. She instinctively took a step back, her hand gripping the edge of the door frame so hard her knuckles turned chalk white.
"Evelyn," Sarah breathed, her voice trembling with panic. "What is this? Who is this man? I told you on the phone not to come back here if you were bringing trouble."
"Sarah, please," I said, stepping forward with my hands raised in a placating gesture. "We just need to talk. We need to see him."
"He's eating his dinner," Sarah blocked the doorway with her small frame, shaking her head frantically. "You can't just show up here after all these months and turn his life upside down. You promised me he was safe."
May you like
"He is safe," Viktor spoke for the first time, his deep baritone cutting through the humid night air like a blade. He didn't raise his voice, but the sheer weight of his authority forced Sarah to freeze. "And I am his father. Move aside, Mrs. Miller, or I'll have my men dismantle this entire property brick by brick to get inside."
Sarah swallowed hard, tears welling in her eyes as she realized the utter futility of resisting a man like Viktor. She slowly lowered her hand from the frame and stepped back into the dimly lit hallway, her shoulders slumped in defeat. "He's in the kitchen," she whispered, her voice cracking. "Just... don't scare him."
