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The cheers swallowed every plea I made until the only name I could distinguish from the noise was Sergei’s. I don’t even know why I’d gone there.

I’m the type to hide in my room and wallow in self-pity, not chase after a man about to throw himself into an illegal fight because I can’t stand the thought of him getting hurt.

I wanted to stop him but I was too late. He was already in the ring, talking to Roman and everything went downhill from there.

I pushed the creepy man away, his disapproving grunt muting under the loud cheers around us. His hand was around me, stopping me from pushing him away when I felt eyes on me.

Sergei.

He was looking at me and I let loose a painful whimper.

It was too much, and my body ran cold, unable to move, staying rooted on the ground and feeling dizzy, feeling like giving up.

The light flickered ferociously somewhere in my mind.

The lullaby growing louder and louder and louder.

Deafening.

When the bough breaks, The cradle will fall.

My brain checked out, the hands on my body stilled before jerking away in a quick attempt.

My legs giving out and I could feel the room rotating, sweat dripping from my forehead and my heart pounding in my chest at an irrational pace.

And down will come baby, Cradle and al—

“Hey?” Sergei’s voice cuts clean through the memory. “Look at me.”

I blink, dragging myself back into the room. “Where’d you go?”

Sergei is still standing in front of me, one hand resting carefully against my waist, the other hovering uncertainly near my shoulder as though he’s afraid the wrong movement will shatter my resolve.

“It’s okay, look at me.” He whispers in a low voice and everything vanishes around me.

It’s just me and him and nothing else.

“It’s okay.” He tries once again and I give my all not to burst into tears right then and there. “What happened malyshka?” He envelops me in a hug.

Fuck. Sergei Zaytsev is hugging me. And it’s oddly…calming?

He’s everywhere, around me, in my head, and it doesn’t hurt anymore.

We stand there for a while until my shivering stops. I hadn’t even realised I was trembling—my body is always scanning for threats—and for the first time in a long time, it finds peace.

Without a word, he slips an arm beneath my knees and lifts me into his arms. I should protest but I don’t.

He carries me back to the bed and sits down against the headboard with me settled on his lap, onearm secured around my waist while the other absent-mindedly strokes slow circles across my back.

Why is he kind to me?

What does he want from me?

“I wanna go home.” I mutter in a low voice still hiding in his embrace, unable to let go. He doesn’t reply for a long time until I’ve collected my pieces together.

“I’m not some weak bitch; you can let go.” I say firmly, though I don’t push him away.

He lets out a defeated sigh, as if he already knows what’s coming next, but I’m not ready for it to be over so soon.