The door shut quietly behind her.
Nastya's pulse thudded in her throat, and for a moment, she just stood there in the hall, breathing deeply. The weight of his offer was still heavy in her chest, pressing down on her ribs, even though she had left his office.
She didn't feel any different.
But she wasn't the same. Not anymore.
She passed the security guard without saying a word. Her coat felt tighter than it had when she came in. Each step echoed in the hall like a question. A question she didn't have the answer to yet.
What if he's lying? What if I walk away from this… and it's the last chance I'll ever have?
Her feet carried her to the elevator, but her mind was elsewhere. She wasn't thinking about the apartment she'd go back to. Or the unpaid bills. Or Lena.
She was thinking about Anton—his eyes, his voice. How he stood in that cold room, all power and silence, waiting for her to make the choice.
She pressed the button for the ground floor. The elevator doors slid open, and she stepped inside, still trapped in the weight of everything he had said.
But when the doors closed, she let out a long breath. The quiet was almost a relief.
Think. Just think.
I have time.
She could walk away. Walk out of this building and never see him again. Never look at the card in her pocket. Forget about the promises, the protection, the weight of the world on her shoulders.
But she couldn't forget what it felt like when he said—I know enough.
She could still feel the weight of his eyes, steady, unblinking. No charm. No manipulation. Just truth, raw and untouchable.
What's the cost? What's the risk?
The elevator dinged, and the doors opened.
Nastya stepped out into the cold, into the world she knew. She pulled the collar of her coat up against the chill and began to walk—one foot in front of the other, slow, steady.
But there was something different in her stride now. Something heavy in the air. The decision wasn't made yet, but she could feel it coming. She could feel the world around her shifting.
Anton didn't move.
Not until he heard the soft click of the door shutting behind her, then the faint sound of her steps as she crossed the threshold. Only then did he take a breath.
He stared out the window, watching the snow fall in slow, deliberate flurries, his mind moving as fast as the storm outside. He hadn't asked her to stay. Not in words. And yet—
She almost stayed.
He had given her the chance to say no. To walk away. To prove he wasn't trying to trap her.
But she didn't say yes either.
Her silence, though… it had felt like something. Not rejection. Not yet.
He turned, walking slowly back to the desk, his fingers grazing the glass of the whiskey before he set it down again, untouched.
What now? he thought.
He didn't know. He didn't know how far she'd walk before the offer became something too tempting. Or too dangerous.
I shouldn't care.
But his mind kept drifting back to her. The way her eyes narrowed when she challenged him. The way she held her ground.
She wasn't like the others. Not by a long shot. He had seen that the moment she stepped into his world. That was why he'd chosen her.
But now the question was—had he miscalculated? Had he pushed her too far?
Would she come back?
He didn't know.
And that—right there—was the hardest part.
The chill of the night air bit at her skin as she stepped out into the city, the sharpness of it almost grounding her, pulling her away from the heavy thoughts swirling inside.
The streets were quieter than she expected for a Friday night. The wind swept the snow into spirals, and the glow of the streetlights reflected off the slick pavement, giving the city an almost dreamlike quality. She wasn't sure if it was the cold or the offer hanging over her head, but everything felt surreal.
She walked with her hands shoved deep into her coat pockets, her head down against the cold, but her mind was loud. Everything Anton had said replayed over and over. His calm voice. The weight behind it. The way his eyes stayed steady, waiting for her reaction, not blinking, not expecting her to fall in line.
This isn't a fairy tale, she told herself. This is real.
Her pulse hadn't slowed since she left him.
So why does it feel like I'm standing on the edge of something?
She passed the small café on the corner, the one where she had spent countless hours studying or grabbing a quick coffee before her shifts. The warmth from the lights inside was almost inviting. Almost… comforting. She could picture herself sitting at one of the tables with a book, losing herself in the stories, pretending none of this—none of him—existed.
But that was the thing, wasn't it? Pretending. It had worked for a while, pretending her world was fine. Pretending she had control. Pretending she didn't dream of a life that didn't involve late-night shifts or watching her mother's health deteriorate by the day.
But that was a lie.
Anton Reznikov isn't a lie. This… whatever this is, it's not a lie.
She kept walking, not even thinking about where she was going, just needing the space. Needing air. Needing time to decide something she didn't want to decide.
The street lights blurred in her vision as she kept moving, the hum of the city's heartbeat echoing in her ears.
Six months.
That's all it would take.
Six months and I walk away. Scot-free.
She couldn't help but think about her mother—how much easier life could be if she took the deal. The medication, the treatments, the care. The endless battles with bills. The weight of being the sole person responsible for it all.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she flinched. She pulled it out.
A text from Lena.
"How did it go? Are you okay?"
She stared at the message for a few moments, then typed back:
"I'm fine. Just… thinking."
Her thumb hovered over the send button. Should she tell her? Should she let Lena in on this choice?
But she knew what Lena would say—how she would beg her not to get involved. How she would beg her to stay out of the mess that was Anton, the man whose name was whispered with fear, the man whose reputation was built on things no one wanted to know.
But this isn't just about me anymore.
She walked faster, trying to outrun the rising sense of dread creeping up her spine. She didn't know what her next step was, but she felt it. The pull, the promise. And it was making her feel things she didn't want to feel.
He'll always be watching. Even if I say no. Even if I walk away.
The thought made her stop in her tracks. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to breathe through the tension in her chest. She couldn't ignore the nagging thought, the one that told her—What if this is the only chance to fix everything?
What's the cost?
She didn't know the answer. But that didn't stop the pull of his offer, the weight of the promise.
And then, like a flash of clarity, it hit her.
What if it's not just about the money?
What if it's about freedom?
Nastya didn't turn around. She didn't look back at the street where she had come from. Instead, she kept walking, her thoughts sharper, her resolve forming with each step.
Her phone buzzed again, but this time, she didn't check it. She didn't need to. What she needed was to know what she wanted.
I'll figure this out. But not tonight.
Tonight, I need space.
She didn't look back. Not at Anton. Not at the city she knew. Not at the life she was walking away from.
But somewhere deep inside, she knew she wasn't walking alone anymore. She was walking toward something.