I’m alarmed when he nods but won’t meet my eyes. He doesn’t believe me. It’s a bitter pill to swallow.
Victor presses his face against my solar plexus. “M-maybe I should practice more self-defence.”
It’s a handy skill for anyone to have, but I have to face the reality that he’s not made for that. He’s a sensitive, passionate man with his nose either in books, a painting, or my pubes. The definition of a lover not a fighter. I can’t keep putting him through this.
The decision I couldn’t bring myself to make for years settles on me like fresh snow, and I feel content with it. “Pack one bag. We’re leaving.”
He looks up at me like a startled deer. “What? Did you get some alert? Are more threats coming?”
I frown and rub my thumb along the shallow indentation the knife made in his skin. “Thiswas enough. You were right, the assassins will just keep coming until one of us is dead. I’m done.”
My decision solidifies when I see the hope in his eyes and the hint of a smile on his bloodstained face. “Are you sure? Where will we go?”
So many options are available, because yes, as long as I cover our tracks and live under the radar, the burns on my face will make me difficult to recognize already, but I might as well invest in changing my features so I don’t need to hide in a fortress. It’s also the end of my career as Sevastyan, but I’m strangely at peace with that. I already lost so much of that old work in the fire, andI’ve outgrown those paintings since Victor infused my art with a new life. It’s time for change.
But I’m scared.
Somehow, I’m scared more than I ever was of invaders in this closed, controlled environment, and if I don’t leave now, I might change my mind and retreat to the panic room.
“I’m not sure, but we still need to go. We’ll board a shipping vessel and see where it can take us.”
Victor grabs my wrist and squeezes there to not hurt my fingers. Even now, he’s so caring. “Let’s do this. I love you.”
The encouragement is like air to me. I’ve had the escape plan built into the house, so I know how to make our first move. I have bank accounts in several countries, and some cash to get us started.
I can do this.Wecan do this, because if I weaken, he will be there to support me.
“One bag. Remember to take at least one change of clothes,” I tell him and lean in to kiss those beautiful lips.
Victor makes it last longer, tongue licking into my mouth, but then he pulls away and nods. I follow him, because my go-bag is already in the panic room.
It’s strange how this place I cherished and designed and furnished is so easy to let go of when I’m not leaving alone.
“Oh, fuck! It stinks. Is that—yep.” Victor gags a little. “Should we deal with it now?”
“No need,” I tell him and shield his eyes as we pass the three dead bodies. I don’t want him suffering from nightmares while we’re on the move. “This house is the ultimate trap. Nobody will find us.”
He doesn’t ask, he just trusts me. I let him look once we approach the studio. Victor pulls his hair into the tightest bun he can force his curls into. He meansbusiness. He grabs a duffel bag, and when I confirm that it’s an okay size, he puts in… my latest sketchbook? And then his own?
“Baby… essentials,” I say and approach the cage attached to the wall. Ratimir isn’t here, but I’ve trained him well, and when I ring a bell, his arrival becomes only a matter of time. The small transporter is ready to go. All I need to do is fill the water bottle attached to it.
Victor gives me a forlorn glance. “I’ll fit in some clothes too, but how are we supposed to leave all this behind?” He points at the canvas I started lately in an attempt to try larger-scale painting instead of focusing on the detailed work that’s given me so much grief.
I suppose one sketchbook each might not hurt. We will have a lot of time on our hands on the ship, without much in terms of entertainment on board.
It’s a bit of a frenzy, but half an hour later we’re ready to go, and I’m about to lead him away when my gaze settles on the stairs leading to the studio.
Cursing, I leave Victor behind and pop inside, returning with the small painting I did of him after we fucked for the first time. I know I could make another, but a part of me worries I might never capture quite the same mood as I did on this particular canvas, and that means it needs to come with us.
“Ready?” I ask, urging him to the lowest floor in the building.
“That’sthe one you choose?” Victor smiles with a little flush.
His question throws me off guard, but I continue leading the way. “It’s one of my best. And dear to me for personal reasons.”
“You’re sweeter than you let on.” Victor gives me a kiss when we stop but then looks around. “Where are we going exactly?”
“I can be very, very sweet,” I agree and use my security monitor. It’s likely to be one of the last times, yet it doesn’t feel like a waste.
