The glass slipped from her hand, water splashing across the coffee table.
"W-what?" Her voice was barely a whisper.
"Viktor Kozlov," I repeated, observing her facial expression on the mention of his name.. "The name your kidnapper mentioned. The one that made you look like you'd seen a ghost."
She moved to clean up the spilled water, but I beat her to it, grabbing a nearby towel and mopping up the mess. She was crying when I looked up from my knees beside her chair. This close, I could see her pulse hammering in her throat, could smell the faint vanilla scent of her skin beneath the hospital antiseptic.
"I don't know who that is," she said, the tremor in her voice betraying the lie.
I rose slowly, deliberately, the wet towel forgotten in my hands. "Don't."
She tried to stand, to put distance between us, but I stepped closer, close enough that she had to tilt her head back to meet my eyes. The coffee table pressed against the backs of her legs, trapping her.
"Whoever this Kozlov is, he's connected to what happened today. To the threats. To that dead kitten at your door."
"You don't understand—" She tried to sidestep me, but I moved with her, my body a wall she couldn't escape.
"You're right, I don't," I cut her off, my control slipping.
"Because you won't tell me anything!. You've been hiding something since the day I arrived, and now it's put your life in danger!."
Her breath hitched as I leaned closer, my hands braced on either side of her against the back of the sofa.
"I can't protect you if you keep me in the dark."
She hugged the blanket tighter around herself, a barrier between us that felt pathetically thin. "It's nothing. Just someone trying to scare me."
"Bullshit!" The word came out harsh, explosive. She flinched, but I didn't step back. Couldn't step back. "That wasn't a random threat. He knew things about you—specific things about your past. About what happened five years ago."
Her head snapped up, eyes wide with panic. "You were listening."
"Of course, I was listening. I'm your security detail. It's my job to know what threats you're facing." I straightened but didn't move away, keeping her caged between my body and the sofa.
"Princess, this isn't a game. These people drugged you. Kidnapped you. They could have?—"
I couldn't finish the sentence. The possibilities of what could have happened whilst she was in their custody had been haunting me since the moment I realised she was missing. Every time I looked at her, I saw how close I'd come to losing her forever.
"I shouldn't have left the coffee shop," she admitted quietly, her voice breaking. "It was stupid and reckless."
Something in her tone—defeat, self-loathing—made me want to pull her against me, to tell her it wasn't her fault. Instead, I forced myself to maintain the pressure. "Yes, it was. You deliberately evaded your security. You put yourself directly in harm's way after receiving explicit threats."
She wiped away a tear, the gesture so vulnerable it nearly broke my resolve. "I know. I'm sorry."
"Sorry?…sorry doesn't cut it. Not this time." I reached out, unable to stop myself, and brushed the tear from her cheek with my thumb. Her skin was silk beneath my fingertips, and she leaned into the touch for just a moment before catching herself.
"You NEED to tell me who Viktor Kozlov is and why his name terrifies you."
For a heartbeat, I thought she might break. Her lips parted, and I could see the words forming, the truth hovering on her tongue. My hand was still against her face, and she turned into it slightly, her eyes fluttering closed.
"I told you, I don't?—"
"Stop lying!" The words exploded from me, and my other hand slammed against the sofa beside her head. She jumped, eyes flying open, and I immediately hated myself for frightening her. But I couldn't back down. Not when her life was at stake.
"Whatever happened five years ago—the incident that led to all those palace cover-ups—whatever this secret is you're keeping, it's made you a target."
For a moment, I thought she might finally open up. Something shifted in her expression—a crack in the facade. Her hand came up to cover mine, which still rested against her cheek, and the touch sent electricity through my entire system.
But then she straightened her shoulders, the royal mask slipping into place with practiced ease.
