INSATIABLE CRAVINGS
Insatiable Cravings - Episode 141
Subtitle; {Loving You Is A Loosing Game}
TAGS: Age-gap, Mafia, Forbidden Love, Drama, Tragedy and Betrayal.
Settings: United Kingdom, Russia and others.
★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★
~ Genevieve ~
Darkness.
But not the comforting kind that wraps around you like a warm duvet on a frosty morning. No—this was cold. Hollow. The sort of darkness that presses in from all sides, cloying and heavy, making your head spin and your skin crawl. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to think. It clung to me like smoke after a house fire—suffocating and thick.
My head throbbed with a dull, relentless ache, each pulse blurring the line between thought and pain.
I tried to move.
Nothing.
My limbs felt miles away, leaden and foreign, as though they no longer belonged to me. My wrists were bound—rope. Coarse and unforgiving. It bit into my skin with every twitch of movement, raw and abrasive.
A groan slipped from my lips—low and unbidden, escaping like water through a cracked glass.
“Well, look who’s finally decided to wake up,” a voice muttered, rough and unmistakably male. Close.
Decided?
I’m like this because of them!
My eyes fluttered open. Lashes clung together, sticky. My vision swam, the world around me warping like I was underwater. The lighting was dim and flickering—fluorescent and ugly.
A house?
The air reeked of smoke and cold. Not the crisp scent of snow, but something artificial and burnt, like plastic left too close to a flame. The floor beneath me was wooden—cool, splintered, unforgiving. And beside me—
“Rory?” My voice cracked, brittle and rasping, barely a whisper.
No reply. But her body jerked. A sharp inhale.
Relief struck like lightning—sudden, electric, painful. She was alive.
Then came the footsteps. Measured. Mocking.
A shadow fell across us before I could sit up.
“Well, well…” The voice now was like silk stretched over razor wire. Smooth, but deadly. “Sleeping beauty’s finally joined the party.”
My gaze rose on instinct, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe.
Viktor.
He was every nightmà re made flesh. Towering well over six foot, with a presence so cold it made the air around him feel thinner. He didn’t just walk—he prowled. Every movement calculated, controlled. Predatory.
His skin was pale, almost translucent under the harsh lighting. His face looked like it had been sculpted from marble—sharp cheekbones, a rigid jaw, lips too thin to ever seem kind. But it was his eyes that held the true horror—icy, piercing, void of any soul. A shade of blue so frigid it burnéd, yet crackling with malevolence. They didn’t just look at you—they cut through you.
Viktor didn’t need a weapon. He was one. Cold. Calculated. Cruel.
And for the second time in my life, I was truly, gut-deep terrified.
He crouched before me, and I could see it in his expression—the twisted delight, the hunger. He looked at me like a predà tor who’d already won. Like the hunt was over and the fun was about to begin.
“I trust you enjoyed the little nap I arranged for you?”
I didn’t stay silent.
I wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.
“Almost as much as you’ll enjoy what’s coming for you.”
He smirked, then reached forward and gripped my jaw—just tight enough to húrt.
“Still got fight in you, hmm? Good. I like it better that way.”
I spat in his face.
It hit his cheek—bold, stupid, reckless.
He stilled.
For one long, breathless moment, the air held its own tension, thick and brittle.
Then, slowly—deliberately—he wiped it away with a gloved hand, eyes never leaving mine. His fingers flexed once before clamping my jaw tighter, until it ached.
“You know,” he murmured, voice low and intimate, “I adore it when my women are feisty. Makes the game far more entertaining, as I said.”
It turned my stomach to hear him refer to me like that.
“I love games,” I whispered, my voice hoarse and cracking.
He laughed—a sharp, cruel bark that echoed around the walls and scraped across my skin like nails down slate. “I know.”
Behind me, Rory stirred, groaning faintly. Her voice was slurred, disoriented. “Genny…?”
Viktor straightened, stepping away with a smirk still twisting his lips. “Don’t worry about her,” he said flippantly. “She’s perfectly fine.” Then he chuckled darkly. “For now.”
I didn’t like the sound of that. Not one bit.
I closed my eyes and tried to focus. What did I know? I’d sent the message. Dominic would’ve seen it. Echo could’ve traced it.
But a hiss slipped through my teeth as cold dread bloomed inside me.
Even if Echo traced the signal, it wouldn’t lead them here.
Where even is here?
All I could remember before blacking out was being carried—strapped down—into a helicopter. Wind. Snow. Trees.
We were far. Far away from London.
Would Dominic find us?
Or would it be too late?
“You’re wondering if your precious Dominic’s coming, aren’t you?” Viktor said, like he’d ripped the thought right from my mind. “He will. Eventually. But by then…”
He crouched again, leaning in until I could feel the rot of his breath against my cheek.
“…he’ll have nothing left to save.”
His words weren’t confirmation. But they shattered the fragile hope I’d been clinging to like glass under a hammer.
Rory stirred properly now, her breathing uneven beside me. “What the fúck is happening…?”
His gaze snapped to her, and the smirk returned—darker this time. Amused.
“Finally awake, are we, doll?”
Instantly, her face twisted in revulsion. She thrashed against her restraints, voice sharp and venomous. “You bloódy imbécile! Let us go, right now!”
“How about no?”
“That wasn’t a bloódy question, doll.” She spat the nickname back at him with pure disgust.
“Nah. It suits you better.” He grinned, an unsettling flicker of interest glinting in his eyes. “Don’t you think?”
“No!”
The glint in his gaze sharpened—amusement turning to something darker. “Ah, I don’t believe I’ve introduced myself. I’m—”
“A chimpanzee doesn’t exactly need an introduction now, does it?” Rory cut in, eyes fierce and gleaming.
He laughed, unfazed. “I reckon I’m slightly better looking than a chimp.”
“Who lied to you?”
“Certainly not the mirror,” he said, smug. “Or the dozens of women who practically beg for me.”
“Do you kidñap and lock them up too?”
“Only the interesting ones.”
“Wow,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Look how lucky I am.” Then she beamed—a smile so fake it was almost art. “So lucky I could vomit from joy.”
“I like you,” he said.
Just blóody fantastic.
“Yay me,” Rory deadpanned, undeterred.
“Have you always been this bitey?”
“Wanna find out?” she challenged. “Let me loose and you’ll see.”
“Alright.”
No.
But Viktor didn’t hear my thoughts. He bent down and started untying her wrists, then her ankles.
Rory was up the moment she was free.
Oh, God.
I barely had time to process before her fist flew—crashing against his mouth with a sickening crunch. Blóod bloomed at his lip. Then another hit—this time straight to the nose. It snapped with a wet crack.
But her third strike didn’t land.
He caught her by the wrists mid-swing and shoved her hard against the nearest wall.
“Tsk—” A single sound, yet brimming with quiet, terrifying promise. “Tsk, tsk.” He tilted his head until his mouth hovered just beside her ear. “I did say I like them feisty. But did I mention what I do to them when they push too far?”
She struggled in his grip, refusing to look away. “Let me guess… lock them up until you get bored and kÃll them?”
“Exactly.” His reply was breezy, too casual. “Now be a good girl. Shut that pretty little mouth of yours and help your sister-in-law out. Alright?”
She didn’t respond.
That made him furious.
His grip tightened on her wrists until she winced.
“Am. I. Understood?”
“Loud and clear.”
“Good girl, doll.” He let her go. She instantly turned to glare at him, rubbing her wrists. He smiled again, teeth red with blood. “You’re so fit when you’re fuming. Shame there’s nothing you can do about it.”
A scoff cut through the air like a slap. No surprise—it was Rory. Still glaring daggers, still defiant as she stroked her sore wrist.
“Oh, I know you could escape,” Viktor said, voice suddenly quiet, almost reverent. “I’ve no doubt. Your brother trained you well. But act clever…”
He turned to me.
“…and he dies.”
His words landed like a series of brutal strikes to the chest.
Dominic can’t die.
He won’t. He wouldn’t let Viktor win.
I trusted him. I trusted him with everything in me.
He’ll fight back—with fury, with fÃre. And he’ll búry this mónster where he belongs.
As though he could hear my thoughts, Viktor snapped his attention back to me and strolled closer. He crouched again, invading my space with his suffocating presence.
“You… you’re painfully clever, aren’t you?” he murmured. “I’ve seen it. The things you’re capable of—in your neat little real world and in our messy, bloódy one.” He chuckled like it was all a joke. “But if you so much as try to outsmart me, your whole family pays the price.”
A slow, sick feeling began gnawing at my insides—sharp, icy, relentless.
It was like being pelted with buckets of freezing water while knÃves of fire tore through my chest.
“If I’m feeling generous,” he added, that cursed smirk never leaving his face, “I’ll start with Everett. If not… Adrianna. And, of course, I’d never let her go alone.” He leaned in, voice soft and poisonóus. “I’d kÃll her baby too.”
Calling him the dévil’s advocate would be generous. Viktor Valdislav made Satà n himself look civilised.
“Understood?”
I couldn’t trust my voice not to break. I nodded.
“Good.”
He stood and turned sharply, boots clunking across the floor as he barked an order to one of his men. I couldn’t make it out—my ears were filled with white noise, panic surging like a wave I couldn’t stop.
Even after Rory freed me, I was still spiralling. My limbs shook as I stood, finally taking in our surroundings.
A storage room. Crates stacked high, dust floating in the stale air. A single bulb overhead buzzed faintly, casting harsh yellow light across the bleak space.
I hobbled to the small window.
Beyond it—mountains. Pine trees. Snow blanketing everything in sight. The sky outside was black.
So that’s where the cold smell came from.
We were remote.
Cut off.
Where the héll were we?
“Gen?”
I turned slightly, raising an eyebrow in silent response.
“This is all my fault,” she muttered. “I’m sorry for pushing. If I hadn’t, we wouldn’t be here.”
I wanted to say it was fine.
But it wasn’t.
I should have stayed home. Armed guards. Steel gates. Safety. I should’ve trusted my instincts and said no. But no—I had to be considerate. I had to try and be kind.
And now here we were.
Kidnà pped.
F+cking perfect.
“I’m really sorry,” she said again. “Dominic’s going to kÃll me if anything happens to you. Especially now that you’re… you know. And Everett—God, he’ll be furious. And your mum—she terrÃfies me, by the way—she’ll—”
“Can you stop freaking out?”
She didn’t.
“I just wanted to do something nice for you and my brother. And now look. I pushed when you said no, and this—this is what happened.” She dragged a hand through her hair, frantic. “God, I’m so sorry, Genevieve. I swear, next time—and God forbid there is a next time—I won’t go against what you say. I promise.”
“If I say I forgive you, will you stop talking?”
She nodded quickly.
“Then I forgive you.”
I walked over and leaned into her, letting my shoulder rest lightly against hers.
“It’s alright,” I whispered, even though it absolutely wasn’t. “I got the message out.”
Because I had. I wrote it just minutes before we left. A gut feeling. A whisper of dread.
“What message?” she whispered back.
We were quiet now. Almost reverent.
I always had a sense for danger. I just didn’t listen soon enough.
But it wasn’t just a gut feeling this time.
It was something else, too.
It was being a mother.
That’s what loving a man like Dominic Morozov does to you.
It trains you to think like a soldier. Move like a spy. Prepare like a survivor.
And he would come for us.
We just had to stay alive long enough for him to find us.
TBC📖✍️
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