– Sebastian’s POV

The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting long shadows along the walls. Sebastian sat in the armchair by the bed, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together as he watched her.

Valarie.

She looked different like this—vulnerable, quiet. The usual fire in her eyes was gone, replaced by the exhaustion of grief. The fierce woman who had fought like a storm, who had glared at him with hatred and challenge, was now curled up in his bed, in his home, wrapped in sheets that smelled like him.

His breath hitched slightly.

She was beautiful.

Her dark brown hair sprawled across the pillow against flawless skin. Her lips, slightly parted, looked soft—too soft for someone so deadly. The curve of her waist beneath the blanket, the exposed length of her throat, the way her lashes trembled against her cheeks as she dreamed… it drove him insane.

Sebastian clenched his jaw, gripping the armrest of his chair. His fingers twitched with the need to touch her. To claim her. To make her his.

But he didn’t.

Not tonight.

She was still grieving.

His gaze flickered to the faint crease between her brows, even in sleep. She must be dreaming about him, he thought bitterly. Elijah.

Sebastian exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair.

Then, almost hesitantly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring.

It was simple, nothing extravagant. A small, silver band but beautiful. Elijah’s last gift to her. And he—Sebastian Vasillev, the cold-blooded monster—had been entrusted with it.

His fingers traced over the metal, his expression unreadable.

“Take care of her.”

The words haunted him.

Elijah had seen through him, had known about his obsession, had understood what Sebastian himself refused to admit.

He wanted Valarie.

Not just for a night, not just as a passing infatuation.

No—he wanted to own her, to love her , to break down every wall she built, to carve his name into her very soul until she couldn’t think of anyone but him.

But she wasn’t his.

Not yet.

His grip on the ring tightened.

He would wait.

For now.

****** — Ghosts of the Past

Valarie’s POV

The sheets felt too soft. The room, too quiet. The air, too warm.

Everything felt wrong.

Valarie stirred, her body heavy with exhaustion, but her mind—her mind was somewhere else.

Somewhere she had sworn never to go back to.

Then—

A voice.

Deep, steady, familiar.

“Val.”

Her breath hitched.

She turned, and there he was.

Elijah.

Standing in the dim glow of the streetlights, his uniform crisp, his badge glinting against his chest. His hair was neatly combed back, the way he always wore it, and his sharp green eyes locked onto hers with that same intense focus that had always made her feel safe.

Her stomach twisted.

“Elijah?” she whispered.

He smiled, just a little. That soft, knowing smirk that had once unraveled her completely.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

Her heart broke.

She moved without thinking, throwing herself forward, reaching for him—but her hands touched nothing.

Cold. Empty.

A sob caught in her throat. “No. No, no, no—”

“Elijah,” she gasped, frantically searching his face. “I—I don’t understand, you—”

“I’m here,” he murmured, voice warm, steady. “I’ll always be here.”

But he wasn’t.

He wasn’t.

Because she had seen the blood. Had felt it, hot and sticky between her fingers as she pressed against his chest, desperately trying to hold him together—

“Stay with me, damn it—”

His grip on her hand had been so tight, his breaths ragged, and yet he had smiled through the pain, his lips forming her name one last time—

And then—

Nothing.

A broken sob tore from her throat.

“Shhh,” Elijah murmured now, stepping closer. “You’re okay.”

“I’m not.”

She shook her head violently, tears blurring her vision. “I’m not okay, Eli. I—” Her voice cracked. “I should have done more. I should have—”

His hand cupped her face, solid, warm. Real.

But it wasn’t.

“It wasn’t your fault, Val.”

She clenched her jaw, tears spilling down her cheeks. “I should have saved you.”

His thumb brushed over her cheek, just like he used to.

Her breath hitched.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, voice soft. “You did.”

Her chest ached.

God, she missed him.

His touch. His scent. The way he used to press a lazy kiss to her temple after long shifts, whispering how proud he was of her. The way he held her on nights she couldn’t sleep, murmuring reassurances against her hair.

The way he had loved her. Unconditionally.

A life she could never have again.

“Elijah,” she whispered, her voice shattering.

He smiled again. Soft. Sad.

“You have to let me go, Val.”

Her stomach dropped.

No.

No, she couldn’t. She wasn’t ready—

“Elijah—”

A sharp noise.

Gunfire.

No—

Blood bloomed across his chest, staining his uniform. The warmth in his eyes flickered, his body swaying.

No, no, no—

“Elijah!”

She lunged, but this time—this time he stepped back.

And then—

He was gone.

Vanished into darkness.

Valarie screamed.

She woke up gasping.

Her chest was tight, her throat raw, her body shaking.

Sweat clung to her skin, and yet she was cold.

For a long moment, she just lay there, her pulse pounding in her ears, the ghost of his touch still lingering against her skin.

Then—

A presence.

Warm. Solid. Real.

Sebastian.

He was beside her, sitting at the edge of the bed, his sharp eyes fixed on her.

Not amused. Not teasing.

Watching. Waiting.

Valarie sucked in a shaky breath, pressing a hand to her chest, trying to ground herself.

She felt raw. Exposed.

Sebastian’s voice was quiet. “Nightmare?”

She swallowed hard. “I’m fine.”

A lie.

Sebastian’s lips pressed into a thin line.

Then—without a word—he reached forward.

Not forceful. Not demanding.

Just there.

Warm fingers brushed against her wrist, prying her clenched fist open, his thumb running over her palm in slow, grounding strokes.

Valarie bit her lip, staring at his hand against hers.

So different from Elijah’s.

Rougher. Larger. Dangerous.

And yet, the weight of it against her own—

Steadying.

For the first time since she had closed her eyes, she could breathe again.

******* — A Vow in the Dark

Sebastian’s POV

Sebastian had never seen her like this.

Valarie was many things—fierce, untouchable, impossible to break. But now, sitting in the dim glow of the bedroom, sweat clinging to her skin, her breath unsteady, she looked small.

Fragile.

Not because she was weak—never because she was weak—but because she had just fought something far worse than a physical battle.

A ghost.

And he hated it.

He had known, of course. About him.

Elijah.

The golden boy. The noble one. The man who had held her heart first.

Sebastian had never let himself think too much about it. It didn’t matter. The past was the past, and Valarie was his now. It's the fate.

But then—

“Elijah…”

She had whispered it in her sleep, her voice broken, raw.

And Sebastian had felt something in his chest twist.

Jealousy.

It should have been jealousy.

He should have hated the man for having had her first. Should have wanted to erase him from her mind, to sink his teeth into her throat and remind her that the only name she should ever whisper like that—like a prayer—was his.

But when she had jolted awake, breathless and lost, it hadn’t been jealousy he’d felt.

It had been rage.

Not at her. Not even at Elijah.

At the world. At the universe. At fate for making Valarie suffer, for taking someone she had loved and leaving her with wounds that even time hadn’t healed.

Sebastian had never cared. He should be happy he died.

But in that moment, he respected him.

Because Elijah had died for her.

And Sebastian understood that.

Because he would do the same.

Without hesitation. Without a second thought.

For Valarie—only for her—he would burn the world to the ground.

Her breathing was still uneven, her body tense beneath the sheets.

Sebastian exhaled slowly, watching her.

She looked… beautiful.

Not in the way he usually admired her—not in the way that made him want to pin her down and consume her.

But in a way that made something in his chest ache.

She was his.

His to protect. His to ruin. His to keep.

She swallowed hard, her fingers curling against the sheets.

Sebastian’s hand moved before he could stop himself.

Slowly, deliberately, he reached out, fingers brushing her wrist.

She stiffened.

Not in fear.

Never in fear.

But in surprise.

Sebastian never comforted. He took. He conquered. He didn’t give.

But right now—

Right now, all he wanted was to anchor her back to him.

Back to now.

Back to him, not the ghost of a man who would never return.

His fingers slid over hers, coaxing them open.

She let him.

Sebastian’s grip was firm, steady.

“You should sleep,” he murmured, his voice softer than he intended.

Valarie huffed a quiet, breathless laugh. “Not sure I want to.”

Sebastian tilted his head, watching her.

Then—

His lips twitched.

A slow, sharp smirk.

“Well,” he murmured, voice dropping lower. “I could keep you occupied in other ways.”

She shot him a dry glare, but he didn’t miss the way her fingers tightened around his.

Or the way her breathing finally began to steady.

He brought her knuckles to his lips, brushing them lightly over her skin.

A promise. A vow.

Elijah had died protecting her.

Sebastian would live protecting her.

And if the universe ever dared to try and take her from him—

He would set the world on fire.

*******

Valarie’s POV

The room was dark, but not silent.

Sebastian’s presence filled every inch of space, his body a shadowy outline in the dim light. He hadn't moved since she woke up, his gaze steady, unreadable.

Valarie exhaled shakily, running a hand through her tangled hair. The nightmare still clung to her, the echoes of Elijah’s voice fading like smoke.

She hated this.

Hated feeling like this.

Like she had lost something all over again.

Sebastian hadn't spoken, but she could feel him watching her. Calculating. Waiting.

And for once, he wasn’t pushing.

That almost made it worse.

She sighed. “You’re being weird.”

Sebastian arched a brow, but he didn't rise to the bait. Instead, he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his expression unreadable.

“You had a nightmare,” he said simply.

Valarie huffed a humorless laugh. “No shit, genius.”

His lips twitched—just a flicker—but the usual sharpness in his gaze was softer now.

She hated that, too.

Because it made her want to talk.

And she wasn’t sure if she was ready for that.

But then—

“Elijah.”

Sebastian said his name, not as a question, but as a fact.

Valarie tensed.

He didn’t sound angry. Didn’t sound jealous.

And somehow, that made her chest ache even more.

She swallowed, staring at the ceiling. “Yeah.”

She didn’t elaborate.

But Sebastian—of course—waited.

Silent. Patient.

He wasn’t going to let this go.

Valarie let out a slow breath. “We met when I was eighteen,” she murmured. “I was reckless. Too confident for my own good. He… balanced me out.”

She closed her eyes, the memory of him sharper than it had been in years.

“He always said I acted first, thought second.” A small, sad smile played on her lips. “He was probably right.”

Sebastian didn’t move, but his gaze burned into her.

“He loved you.”

It wasn’t a question.

Valarie nodded, throat tightening. “Yeah.”

She hesitated.

Then, quieter—

“And I loved him.”

The words sat heavy between them.

Sebastian didn’t speak, but something flickered in his eyes.

Something dark.

Valarie smirked faintly, trying to lighten the weight in the air. “Are you jealous of a dead man, Vasillev?”

Sebastian exhaled sharply through his nose, his jaw clenching.

Valarie laughed.

Not because it was funny.

Because she needed to.

Sebastian shot her a flat look. “Shut up.”

She only grinned wider, nudging his leg with her foot. “Oh my God, you are jealous.”

His glare was instant. “You think highly of yourself.”

She smirked. “Obviously.”

A beat of silence.

Then, softer—

“I don’t hate him, Valarie.”

That surprised her.

Sebastian wasn’t exactly known for his ability to share.

He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “He died protecting you.”

Valarie’s smile faltered.

Sebastian’s voice was steady. Low.

“I respect that.” A pause. “Because I would do the same.”

Something thick swelled in her chest, her breath hitching.

Sebastian didn’t look away.

“You’re mine now,” he murmured. “But I’m not blind. You lost something—someone—and I won’t pretend that doesn’t matter.”

Valarie blinked rapidly. “That was almost… mature.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Don’t get used to it.”

She smirked again, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Sebastian exhaled through his nose, reaching out.

She didn’t pull away when his fingers brushed her wrist.

Didn’t fight him when he pulled her forward, tucking her into his chest.

Didn’t resist when he pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to her temple.

******* — Unraveling the Silence

Sebastian’s POV

Valarie was still curled against him, warm and real. The scent of her—gunpowder, faded perfume, something inherently her—lingered in the space between them.

She wasn’t trembling anymore, but Sebastian could tell the nightmare still clung to the edges of her mind.

He wasn’t the type to comfort with soft words or empty reassurances. That wasn’t who he was.

But he could occupy her mind.

So he did.

“You’re close to your brother,” he said, voice low, steady.

Valarie hummed, fingers absentmindedly tracing circles on his forearm. “Luca? Yeah. He’s annoying as hell, but I’d kill for him.”

Sebastian smirked. “I imagine he’d say the same about you.”

She snorted. “Probably. He’s too soft, though. Got our mother’s kindness.”

Sebastian tilted his head. “And you?”

Valarie smirked lazily. “I got everything else.”

He chuckled. Of course she did.

Silence settled, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

Then—

“What about your family?” Valarie asked, peering up at him.

Sebastian’s smirk faded.

His fingers curled slightly against her waist, but he didn’t pull away.

“They’re dead.” His voice was even. Matter-of-fact.

Valarie blinked. “Oh.”

No pity in her tone. Just acknowledgment.

Good.

He didn’t want pity.

“Grew up with an absent father,” he continued, voice smooth. “He was a ruthless bastard, but he taught me everything I needed to know before he got himself killed.”

Valarie arched a brow. “And your mother?”

Sebastian exhaled through his nose. “Gone before I was old enough to remember.”

She didn’t say sorry, and he appreciated that.

Instead, she hummed thoughtfully. “Explains a lot.”

He raised a brow. “Does it?”

Valarie smirked. “Yeah. Explains why you’re so emotionally stunted.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “I prefer efficiently detached.”

Valarie snickered, nudging him with her elbow. “Sure, Vasillev. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

A small pause.

Then—

“What about love?”

Sebastian glanced at her. “What about it?”

She tilted her head, studying him. “You’re rich, handsome, built like a Greek god—”

He smirked. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

She ignored him. “—and yet, I’ve never heard of anyone in your life. No long-lost lovers? No tragic romances?”

Sebastian scoffed. “I never had time for that shit.”

Valarie’s brows lifted. “Never?”

He shrugged. “I had priorities. Building an empire doesn’t leave room for distractions.”

Valarie gave him a slow, almost mocking smile. “So, what you’re telling me… is that you’ve spent your entire life alone?”

Sebastian narrowed his eyes. “I’m not alone.”

She grinned. “Sure you aren’t.”

His gaze darkened. “Valarie.”

Her smirk widened.

He growled low in his throat, fingers flexing against her waist. “I could make you pay for that.”

Her laughter was light, teasing. “Oh, I’d love to see you try.”

Sebastian exhaled sharply, shaking his head.

This woman.

Even after a nightmare, even after exhaustion clung to her—she was still a menace.

Still, he didn’t mind.

She had stopped thinking about Elijah.

And that?

That was exactly what he wanted.

********* Sebastian twirled the silver ring between his fingers, the metal cool against his skin. His gaze flickered back to the sleeping woman in his bed—his untamed deity, fierce even in slumber.

How ironic, he thought, that the man she loved gave me the one thing that should have belonged to him.

His fingers tightened around the band as his mind wandered into dangerous territory. The urge to slip it onto her delicate finger, to claim her in the simplest yet most permanent way, was suffocating. Would she even notice if I did it now?

Just as the thought crossed his mind, Valarie stirred.

Her long lashes fluttered open, and those sharp, stormy eyes locked onto him. There was a brief moment of confusion before awareness settled in. She blinked, then scowled.

“What the hell are you staring at?” her voice was hoarse, but the attitude was all there.

Sebastian smirked, slipping the ring back into his pocket. “Watching you sleep. You drool, by the way.”

Valarie scoffed, pushing herself up on her elbows. “Liar.”

His smirk deepened. “You’ll never know.”

She stretched, wincing slightly from her injuries. “Where am I?”

“My room obviously” Sebastian replied smoothly, leaning back in his chair, arms draped over the armrests like a king on his throne. “Where else would I take my stubborn little officer?”

She rolled her eyes, but something flickered in them—caution. “You planning to keep me here forever, Vasillev?”

“Tempting,” he drawled. “But I figured I should at least feed you before I chain you to my bed.”

She let out a sarcastic laugh. “Charming. If you do plan on feeding me, I’d prefer my food without poison, thanks.”

Sebastian chuckled, low and amused. “Poison?” He feigned offense. “You wound me, Valarie.”

She smirked. “I’ve seen your type, A man like you doesn’t just ‘take care’ of a cop out of kindness.”

He tilted his head, eyes gleaming. “Maybe you’re right.” He leaned in slightly, voice dropping to a silky murmur. “Or maybe I just enjoy seeing you in my bed.”

She huffed, throwing a pillow at his face. He caught it effortlessly, laughing.

Valarie narrowed her eyes at him. “So? Are you actually offering food, or is this just an excuse to mess with me?”

Sebastian stood, stretching lazily. “sure, my goddess. I’ll even let you choose what you want.”

Valarie arched a brow. “And you won’t poison me?”

He leaned in close, his breath warm against her ear. “If I wanted to kill you, Valarie…” His fingers trailed up her wrist before he pulled away. “You wouldn’t be here right now.”

Her pulse quickened, but she refused to let him see it.

Instead, she threw the blanket off and stood up. “Fine. But if I die, I’m haunting you.”

Sebastian smirked. As if I don’t already see you in my every waking thought.

*****

Sebastian sat on the edge of the bed, one knee bent as he rolled up his sleeves. His sharp gaze flickered to Valarie, who was stubbornly avoiding his touch, her arms crossed like a petulant child.

“Take off your shirt,” he ordered, his voice low and commanding.

Valarie scoffed, glaring at him. “In your dreams, Vasillev.”

Sebastian smirked, already amused. “Believe me, kiska, my dreams are far more creative than this.”

Her eye twitched, but before she could snap back, he grabbed the medical kit and popped open a bottle of antiseptic. Without warning, he reached for her, intent on treating the bruises littering her arms.

The moment his fingers brushed her skin, Valarie twisted, kicking him in the side. “I can do it myself.”

Sebastian barely flinched, though the unexpected force had him chuckling darkly. “You could—but you won’t.” Before she could strike again, he moved quickly, trapping her wrists and maneuvering her against the bedframe in one smooth motion.

“Let. Me. Go,” she growled, wriggling under his grip.

He grinned, eyes flickering down to where she was pinned beneath him. Beautiful. Her chest rose and fell with every breath, defiance burning in her stormy gaze. The faintest trace of blood smeared her lips—a split from her earlier fight, no doubt—and his fingers twitched with the urge to wipe it away.

“Stay still,” he murmured, dipping the cloth into the antiseptic.

“I swear to God, Sebastian, if you—”

Her words cut off with a sharp inhale as he gently dabbed at her bruised jaw.

“Hurts?” he asked, feigning concern.

Valarie scoffed. “I’ve had worse.”

His lips curled. “I know.”

Her glare sharpened, but she stayed still, letting him work. His touch was steady, deliberate—tracing over her bruises with a kind of careful attention that made her stomach twist.

His eyes flicked down to her lips again.

Soft. Plump. Tainted with blood and anger.

Sebastian didn’t stop.

His fingers ghosted lower, brushing over the hem of her shirt. Valarie tensed but didn’t shove him away, and that was all the permission he needed.

He lifted the fabric, exposing the bruises lining her ribcage. His jaw clenched. Mikhail’s men had done this. He should’ve made them suffer longer before killing them.

His touch was light as he pressed the cloth to her skin, cleaning the wounds with slow, deliberate strokes. The moment the cool antiseptic touched her, she shuddered, her body giving the faintest involuntary twitch.

Then—

A soft, unintentional moan left her lips.

Sebastian stilled.

Something dark and primal uncoiled inside him. His grip tightened slightly on her waist, his fingertips brushing bare skin. The sound had been quiet, barely audible—but he’d heard it. Felt it.

Fuck.

His mind spiraled. His gaze flickered to her lips, slightly parted. Her flushed skin, the way her chest rose and fell unevenly. Was she even aware of what she just did?

He doubted it.

And that only made it worse.

God, you’re killing me, diety.

He swallowed hard, forcing himself to stay in control. But then she moved again, her breath hitching as his fingers brushed too close to her waistline. Another quiet, involuntary sound.

Sebastian’s restraint snapped.

His thoughts turned filthier than ever, images flashing through his mind at breakneck speed.

Her underneath him, panting, trembling, writhing. That voice moaning his name instead. Those bruised lips red parted, gasping, begging.

His jaw clenched, fingers twitching against her skin.

She has no idea what she’s doing to me.

Valarie shot him a glare. “Are you done, or do you plan on fondling me all night?”

Sebastian smirked, masking the hunger in his eyes. “I’d rather you moan like that for a different reason, kitten.”

She froze. Then—her expression twisted in rage.

Sebastian still staring at dangerous yet beautiful creature in front of him.

. “If you’re going to keep gawking, at least bring me dinner first.”

Sebastian smirked. “I’d rather have you for dinner.”

She kicked him again, but this time he caught her leg, gripping her thigh with ease. His fingers pressed into the exposed skin, his touch firm, possessive.

“Careful, my diety,” he murmured, voice dropping to something more dangerous. “Keep tempting me, and I might forget I’m supposed to be playing nice.”

Valarie huffed. “Nice? This is you being nice?”

He leaned in, brushing his lips just shy of her ear. “You wouldn’t survive me at my worst.”

Her breath hitched—just for a second. But he caught it.

She twisted, shoving him off with an annoyed grunt. “I hate you.”

Sebastian chuckled, unfazed. “Liar.”

She grabbed the antiseptic from his hands, glaring. “Next time, I’ll stitch myself up.”

His smirk widened. “Next time, you’ll be in my bed by choice.”

Valarie froze, then scowled, launching the nearest pillow at his head.

Sebastian laughed. God, she was intoxicating.

Still, as he sat back, his fingers flexed. He could still feel her warmth on them. Smell the faint scent of her skin.

He was utterly fucked.

******