Irina’s POV

My chest tightened. Suddenly the ice cream in my stomach felt like concrete.

I set the container down on the coffee table. My hands were shaking again.

Of course. Of course he’d heard them. Everyone had heard them.

My throat closed up.

Andrei was watching me. Waiting for an answer I couldn’t give.

"I..." The word came out strangled. "I didn’t—"

"Hey." His voice was gentle. "Hey, it’s okay. I’m not accusing you of anything."

But his eyes said something different. Uncertain. Questioning.

He didn’t believe me. Nobody believed me.

Why would they? Maxim was an alpha. Powerful. Respected.

And I was nothing. Nobody.

My fingernails dug into my palms. Hard enough to hurt.

"I just wanted to say..." Andrei leaned forward slightly. "I don’t believe them."

My head snapped up.

He smiled. Small. Kind.

He shook his head.

"You don’t have the behavior of someone who spent months throwing herself at an alpha. Who pursued someone relentlessly."

Something cracked open in my chest. Painful. Raw.

He believed me.

Someone actually believed me.

My eyes burned. I blinked rapidly. Tried to hold back the tears threatening to spill over.

"So those rumors," Andrei said quietly. "About you seducing Maxim? About you wanting it?"

He held my gaze.

"They’re not true, are they?"

I shook my head. The movement was small. Jerky.

"No," I whispered. "They’re not true."

The words felt foreign. Like admitting it out loud made it real.

Made the lies real. Made what Maxim did real.

Andrei nodded slowly. Like he’d expected that answer.

"I figured," he said. "But you know... the alpha king doesn’t know that."

My stomach dropped.

"Nicolas," Andrei continued, "he’s heard the rumors too. Everyone has. And he’s not exactly the type to ask questions first."

Fear spiked through me.

"He thinks—" My voice cracked. "He thinks I wanted it. What Maxim did."

"Maybe." Andrei’s tone was careful. "Or maybe he’s just confused. Angry. Trying to make sense of it."

He picked up his ice cream again. Took a bite.

"Look, I’m not defending him. Nicolas can be... intense. Especially when he feels threatened or doesn’t understand something."

Threatened. By me.

The idea was almost laughable.

"You’re his mate," Andrei said. "That’s not a small thing. For someone like him—someone who’s spent years trusting no one, letting no one close—suddenly having a fated mate show up?"

He shrugged.

"It’s terrifying. Even if he’d never admit it."

I stared at my hands. At my bitten nails and pale skin.

"But here’s the thing," Andrei continued. "Nicolas... he’s not patient. At all. And he’s used to people bending over backward to please him. To respect him."

My chest tightened.

"If you keep being this scared around him—if you keep looking at him like he’s about to kill you—he’s going to take it personally."

"I can’t help it," I whispered.

"I know." Andrei’s voice was gentle. "But you need to understand. Nicolas is not just an alpha. He’s the alpha king. He runs the underground territories. He’s the mafia boss for this entire region."

He leaned forward again.

"This is how he’s always been. Cold. Demanding. Violent when crossed. If you want to survive here—if you want any kind of life—you’ll have to learn to deal with it."

Deal with it.

Like it was that simple.

Like I could just turn off the fear. The trauma. The memories of hands that hurt and voices that degraded.

But what choice did I have?

I was here. In his palace. Marked as his mate.

There was no escape. No way out.

"I know," I said quietly. "I know he’s like that."

Andrei smiled. "Good. That’s a start."

He reached over. Picked up the ice cream container I’d set down.

"Here," he said, holding it out. "I’m guessing you didn’t eat much at dinner?"

I took it. Held it in my lap.

I took another bite. Then another.

My shoulders relaxed slightly.

"Better?" Andrei asked.

"Yeah." My voice came out stronger this time.

Andrei glanced at his phone. "Wow. Late already."

He stood. Stretched.

"I should let you sleep. You’ve had a long day."

I stood too. Suddenly not wanting him to leave.

Because once he left, I’d be alone again.

Alone with my thoughts. My memories.

"Thank you," I said. "For... for coming. For the ice cream."

"Anytime." Andrei smiled. "Seriously. If you need anything—someone to talk to, more ice cream, whatever—just ask Sofia to find me."

He moved toward the door. Paused with his hand on the handle.

"And Irina? Give Nicolas a chance. He’s not good at... people. But he’s trying."

Then he was gone.

The door closed softly behind him.

I stood in the middle of the room. Alone again.

The silence pressed in. Heavy.

I moved to the bed. Sat on the edge.

My stomach felt full for the first time in... I couldn’t remember.

The ice cream sat heavy but not uncomfortable.

I lay back against the pillows. Stared up at the white ceiling.

Maybe Andrei was right. Maybe I needed to try.

Not for Nicolas. For myself.

Because I was here. This was my reality now.

And maybe—just maybe—I could survive it.

My eyes drifted closed.

Sleep pulled at me. Warm. Heavy.

I let it take me.

---

Pain.

Sharp. Vicious.

It tore through my stomach like claws.

I jerked awake. Gasping.

The room was dark. The only light came from the moon through the window.

Another wave of pain hit. Worse this time.

I doubled over. Clutched my stomach.

Oh god. What—?

My insides twisted. Cramped. Like someone was wringing them out.

I rolled off the bed. Hit the floor hard.

Didn’t care.

Had to—had to get to the bathroom.

I crawled. Each movement sent fresh agony through my middle.

My vision blurred. Sweat broke out across my forehead.

The bathroom door. So far away.

I kept moving. One hand. One knee. Again. Again.

Finally. Finally I reached it.

Shoved it open.

Collapsed against the toilet.

And vomited.

Everything came up. The dinner. The ice cream. Everything.

My body heaved. Over and over.

Tears streamed down my face. From pain. From the force of it.

I couldn’t stop. Couldn’t breathe between waves.

Just kept vomiting until there was nothing left.

Then dry heaves. Painful. Harsh.

My throat burned. My stomach felt like it was being torn apart from the inside.

When it finally stopped, I slumped against the wall.

Cold tile pressed against my cheek.

I was shaking. My entire body trembling violently.

What was wrong with me?

My stomach cramped again. Warning.

I barely made it back to the toilet.

More vomiting. More pain.

This couldn’t be normal. Something was really wrong.

I needed help.

But I couldn’t move. Could barely lift my head.

The room spun. Tilted.

I tried to stand. My legs wouldn’t cooperate.

Collapsed back to the floor.

My vision darkened at the edges.

No. No, I couldn’t pass out. Not here. Not alone.

"Help," I tried to say. But it came out as barely a whisper.

Another cramp. Sharper this time.

I cried out. Couldn’t help it.

The sound echoed in the bathroom. Pathetic. Weak.

Footsteps in the bedroom.

Running footsteps.

Then a knock at the bathroom door. Urgent.

"Miss?" Sofia’s voice. Frightened. "Miss, are you okay?"