Sweet Riddle

IVAN

I didn't leave the room. No, I didn't want to. I stayed just far enough to give her the illusion that I was done, that I was leaving her to her ridiculous laughter and whatever warped sense of freedom she thought she had. I could feel the tension rolling off her, that air of superiority she wore like a shield, but deep down, I knew it wouldn't last. It was just a front. Her laughter was loud, almost mocking, as she read that damn book, and it irritated the hell out of me.

I stood silently, observing her, my gaze sharp, waiting.

She was sitting there on my couch, whiskey in hand, completely oblivious to the weight of the room. The way she held that glass, the way her lips curled with each laugh—it wasn't a performance. No, it was her escape. A way for her to distract herself from the reality that surrounded her. But what did she really think she was escaping from? Me? Or her own demons?

I didn't move immediately. Let her think she had the upper hand. Let her drown in that delusion, in the false sense of control her laughter gave her. But I knew she wouldn't hold onto it for long. She would crack. They always do.

Then she laughed again, the sound almost too carefree, and something in me snapped.

I took a step forward, crossing the room silently, making sure my presence loomed over her without her noticing at first. I didn't say a word. I didn't need to. Just the weight of my footsteps, the sound of them hitting the polished floor, should have been enough to make her feel it. The moment she realized I hadn't left, her laughter faltered.

"Still laughing?" I asked, my voice smooth but low. I leaned in just enough so she could feel my presence next to her, but I made no move to touch her. Not yet.

Her expression shifted. That carefree mask she wore, gone. She stiffened, her grip on the whiskey glass tightening as if it could somehow shield her from me. I could see the hesitation in her eyes. She wasn't laughing anymore.

She was testing me again.

Katya gave me that look—the one where she wanted to challenge me. But I knew the truth. She wasn't just hiding behind her laughter. She was hiding behind the book, behind whatever world it gave her to escape to. But in here, with me, there was no escape. She would learn that.

"You know, Katya," I said quietly, stepping closer until I was just a breath away from her, "You can laugh all you want. But your ways to escape reality through books? They don't work on me."

Her gaze flickered up to meet mine, a challenge in her eyes. She didn't flinch, didn't shrink away. If anything, she leaned into the tension, daring me to make the next move. And that was where I knew I had her. She was playing with fire, but she didn't realize how easily I could burn her.

I took the book from her hands in one swift motion. I could see the title clearly enough. Lights Out. I didn't care much for books—real power was in the action, not in the pages—but I was curious what kind of mind she had. What drew her to books like these? Dark, twisted, slightly amusing, and full of chaos.

I threw it onto the coffee table, just out of her reach, and watched her face as she glanced at it, visibly irritated.

She opened her mouth to retort, probably something sarcastic, but I stopped her with a look—a glance that was enough to silence her.

Katya didn't get it yet, but I was playing a game she had no idea how to win. This wasn't about power moves or insults anymore. It was about control, and I was the one holding the reins.

I want control over her.

No.

I need control over her.

I turned, heading for the door, giving her just enough time to think she'd won. Just enough time to wonder what she could say to get under my skin. But she wouldn't. She never would.

And just before I stepped out, I allowed her one last glimpse of my presence. "I'm not finished with you yet," I said, my voice dark with meaning. "But I will be."

With that, I left her there, but I knew she wasn't laughing anymore. She could feel it—the shift in the air. This was just the beginning, and Katya would learn sooner or later. The walls she had built around herself? They weren't nearly as strong as she thought.

But then... I suddenly stopped walking.