The nightmare clung to me like smoke—thick, heavy, impossible to escape.
His body.Falling.Blood.
I woke up breathless, heart pounding so loud I was sure it would wake the dead. But I didn't scream. I couldn't.
Because I wasn't alone.
I felt him beside me—Lukas. One arm wrapped protectively around my shoulders like a silent shield between me and the world. His presence grounded me, calmed the storm raging in my chest.
But I didn't tell him.I couldn't.
How do you look into someone's eyes and say,"I saw you die in my dream."How do you confess it without sounding mad?Without sounding like you're breaking?
Instead, I stayed quiet, curled deeper into the warmth of his side. His hand moved slowly, rhythmically up and down my arm like he was trying to chase away the remnants of whatever monster chased me in my sleep.
He didn't ask me what the nightmare was about.Maybe he already knew I wouldn't answer.
Because how could I?How could I tell him that in the dream, I was screaming, but no one listened? That I saw him shot and falling to his knees—and I ran, but my legs wouldn't move. That I reached for him, but the blood kept pulling him away from me.
It was just a dream.But it didn't feel like one.
When I finally looked up at him, his face was unreadable. Calm… maybe too calm. Like he was hiding something too. Maybe we both were.
"Can I stay like this… just for a minute?" I whispered, voice still thick with sleep and something else I couldn't name.
He didn't speak. Just nodded, tightening his hold around me slightly.
And I stayed there.Listening to his heartbeat.
Trying to forget a dream that felt too much like a memory.
But deep down, something inside me whispered:It wasn't just a nightmare.
It was a warning.
The next morning felt… numb.
I didn't say much—actually, I didn't say anything at all. No teasing Lukas over breakfast, no calling my friends to gossip or laugh. No arguing with Nikolas over silly things like who finished the last energy drink. Not even a snarky reply to Dad's sarcastic jokes.
Just silence.
I moved through the day like a ghost, present but not really there. My head ached—not from the migraine or lack of sleep, but from the weight of that dream still clinging to my ribs. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the flash of a bullet… the blood… the way he dropped.
And worse—how helpless I was.
Lukas noticed. Of course he did. He's always watching, always too aware of me. But he didn't push. Maybe he was giving me space… or maybe he was scared of what I might say.
I caught him glancing at me a few times throughout the day. His jaw clenched slightly, like he was trying to hold back the urge to speak. His fingers tapped rhythmically on the armrest, like he was holding a conversation in his head he didn't want me to hear.
But I stayed silent.Because if I opened my mouth, I was scared everything would come crashing out—the dream, the fear, the strange ache inside my chest.
So I stayed locked in my thoughts, and no one could reach me.
Not even him.
And that scared me more than the nightmare ever could.
I was passing him in the hallway, keeping my eyes fixed on the floor, hands wrapped tightly around myself.
I hadn't spoken all day. Not to Lukas. Not to my friends. Not even to my father or Nikola. I didn't trust my voice — because if I spoke, I knew it would crack. If I looked at him, I knew I'd fall apart.
But he couldn't take the silence anymore.
Just as I walked by, his hand shot out, grabbing my wrist. Before I could react, I was pulled back with force, and my spine hit the wall behind me with a soft thud. I gasped, eyes wide as Lukas caged me in with his arms, his body just inches from mine.
He wasn't gentle this time. He wasn't soft.
He was furious — no, desperate.
His eyes bore into mine, stormy and wild. His voice was low, hoarse. "What the hell is going on with you?"
I blinked, struggling to form words, but my mouth remained shut.
He moved closer, the warmth of his body pressing into mine. His hand gently tilted my chin up. "You won't speak. You won't even look at me. Do you hate me now? Did I do something? Just tell me, damn it!"
"I had a nightmare," I whispered, barely audible.
He froze.
I finally raised my gaze to meet his, and for a second, I saw fear flicker across his face — the kind of fear that doesn't belong on someone like him. Someone untouchable.
"You were covered in blood… Someone shot you," I murmured. "And I… I couldn't reach you. I couldn't stop it. I just watched you bleed and disappear. It felt so real."
He was silent. Too silent.
I leaned into his chest, resting my forehead there. I could feel his heartbeat. Unsteady. Heavy. Loud.
"I'm not made for dreams, Adeline," he said suddenly, voice cold but shaking. "I'm made for nightmares."
I pulled back, confused. "What does that mean?"
His jaw clenched. He looked away for a moment — and then something in him shattered. He looked at me again, and this time, he let go.
"I'm not just your bodyguard," he said slowly, his voice like a slow-burning fire. "I've lied to you."
I stared at him, breath caught.
"I'm not who your father says I am. I'm not just Lukas Volkoff the protector. I'm the danger he warned you about." He took a shaky breath. "I'm a mafia heir. No—a king. I rule blood. Violence. War. That scar you saw on my back? That's just one of many."
The silence between us was deafening.
"I've killed, Adeline. I've tortured. I've bathed in the same blood that drenched me the night you saw me in that alley... years ago. And I'd do it again if it meant protecting you."
My heart dropped.
I remembered the boy I'd seen as a child, standing alone in a dark alley, soaked in blood. The boy whose eyes haunted me ever since.
"You…" My voice trembled. "That was really you."
He nodded once, barely.
"I didn't want to tell you. Not like this. But I can't pretend anymore. You deserve to know what you're getting close to. I'm not a good man, Adeline. I'm not soft. I'm not clean. And if you stay close to me…" His voice broke, "They will come for you. Because you're the only thing in this goddamn world that keeps me human."
Tears welled in my eyes. Everything inside me screamed to run, to hide from the truth—but I didn't move.
Because even after everything, my heart didn't change.
I stepped closer, placing my hand against his chest.
"I already knew you were dangerous," I whispered. "But you were the only one who ever made me feel safe."
He looked at me like I was the most painful thing he'd ever seen.
And then… he crushed me into his arms, like if he didn't hold me now, the world might take me away.