Episode 4

Roman Zachary

The hospital feels like my last tether to normalcy, a fading fragment of a life I used to have control over. Every beep of a monitor and whir of a ventilator pulls me back to a world where I understood my place, where the most dangerous thing I faced was a ruptured artery, not gunfire and shadows.

But no amount of sterile hospital walls or neatly stacked charts can erase the weight pressing down on me. It’s been five days since I stepped into that mansion, into a life I didn’t ask for. Five days of patching up Ivan while pretending not to feel Maxim’s presence everywhere—his gaze, his orders, his threats.

The vibrations in my pocket break through my thoughts, making my stomach tighten. I pull out the phone, my pulse quickening as I stare at the screen. Unknown Number. I already know who it is.

I answer, keeping my voice steady. “Dr. Zachary.”

A clipped voice greets me. “Good evening, doctor. Mr. Maxim has requested your presence at the house. Someone will pick you up shortly. Be ready.”

The line goes dead before I can say anything. Of course. It’s not like I have a choice.

---

Later that evening, I stood outside the hospital, clutching my bag. The cold night air bites at my face, but it’s nothing compared to the chill twisting in my gut. A sleek black car pulls up to the curb, its windows dark and opaque, as if to keep secrets hidden within.

The driver steps out, his expression blank, and opens the door without a word. I climb into the backseat, the faint scent of leather and cologne filling the confined space.

The ride is silent, the hum of the engine the only sound as the city fades into the distance. My chest feels heavier with each mile, the weight of the unknown pressing down on me.

When the car pulls into the estate, I’m struck again by its sheer size and isolation. The mansion looms against the night sky, its sharp angles cutting into the moonlight like a predator lying in wait. The gardens are perfectly manicured, the pond still and reflective, but it all feels cold, uninviting.

The driver doesn’t say a word as he gestures for me to follow him inside

-----

Inside, the house feels even more foreboding. The polished floors and gilded sconces give it a false warmth, but beneath the surface, everything about this place feels sharp, like a blade pressed to my skin.

I’m led through the halls, the echoes of my footsteps swallowed by the thick silence. When we reach Ivan’s room, I pause at the door.

He’s sitting up in bed, propped against a mountain of pillows, his usual confidence muted by exhaustion. His grin, however, is still intact.

“Doctor!” he greets me, his voice cheerful but rough. “Miss me?”

“Ivan,” I say, stepping into the room, my tone calm but professional. “How are you feeling?”

“Never better,” he replies, though the way he adjusts himself with a wince tells a different story. “Okay, maybe not better, but alive.”

“That’s debatable,” I mutter, setting my bag down and pulling on gloves.

“I’m fine, Doc,” Ivan says, though the grimace that flashes across his face tells a different story.

“Fine doesn’t look like that,” I mutter, pulling back the bandage. His wound is healing, but slowly—a reminder of just how close he came to dying that night. A faint shiver runs down my spine as I adjust the dressing, and my gaze lingers for a moment on the other scars littering his chest.

“Occupational hazard,” Ivan jokes lightly, catching the direction of my gaze. “You get used to it.”

I don’t laugh. “That’s not exactly reassuring.”

He leans back against the pillows, his grin softening into something almost kind. “Don’t let it get to you, Doc. You’re doing better here—better than I expected, actually.”

I frowned, raising an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs, his expression turning mischievous. “Just saying, you don’t seem like the type to handle all this… chaos.”

He’s not wrong. And yet, here I am.

I try to keep my focus on the task at hand,

“You’re healing well. No signs of infection. Just keep resting, and for the love of God, stop trying to move around.”

“Doc, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you care.”

I glance at him, raising an eyebrow. “I’d care a lot more if you didn’t end up back on my table.”

He chuckles softly, but before I can respond, the air shifts.

I feel it before I hear it—the weight of his presence.

Maxim.

---

“Doctor,” Maxim’s voice cuts through the silence, sharp and commanding. It takes all my willpower not to flinch as I feel his gaze settle on me. I straighten instinctively, my hands stilling as I press a fresh bandage to Ivan’s side.

When I finally turn, he’s standing just inside the doorway, his presence consuming the room like a storm.

“Maxim,” I reply evenly, locking eyes with him despite the unease crawling under my skin. I won’t let him see me falter—not here, not now.

He steps forward, his movements slow and deliberate, his sharp green eyes boring into mine as if testing how much ground he can take before I back down. I don’t move, though my heart pounds like a drum in my chest.

“I trust Ivan is recovering well,” he says casually, though there’s an edge to his tone that sends a ripple of tension through the air.

“Yes,” I reply, my voice steady. “He’s healing, but the process takes time. His wound was severe. He’ll need at least a few more weeks of rest to avoid complications.”

Maxim’s gaze flicks to Ivan, who offers a faint, almost sheepish shrug. “I told you, I’m fine,” Ivan mutters, but the strain in his voice betrays him.

Maxim doesn’t respond, his attention snapping back to me. His expression is unreadable, but there’s something behind his eyes—something dark, calculating. “Good,” he says after a moment, his tone cool. “Then I assume I’ll have no need for a replacement.”

I meet his stare head-on, unwilling to let his veiled threat go unanswered. “If you want him to recover fully,” I say, my tone sharp but measured, “then you need to make sure he rests. No unnecessary movement, no heavy lifting, and certainly no ‘replacements.’”

The air in the room seems to shift. Maxim’s lips curve faintly, a ghost of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. He steps closer, reducing the space between us until he’s barely a foot away. The weight of his presence is suffocating, but I refuse to look away.

“Doctor,” he murmurs, his voice soft but razor-edged. “You seem to have a lot of opinions about how things should be done here.”

“I have opinions when it comes to my patients,” I shoot back, my words clipped. “And as long as I’m responsible for Ivan’s care, I’ll do whatever it takes to keep him alive.”

His smirk widens ever so slightly, a flicker of amusement crossing his features. “Bold,” he says, almost mockingly. “But let me remind you of something—you’re here because I allow it. Because I need you. The moment that changes…” He lets the words hang in the air, their weight pressing down on me like a vice.

I feel a flicker of fear deep in my gut, but I force myself to hold his gaze. “Understood,” I say firmly.

Maxim’s eyes narrow slightly, as if he’s trying to decide whether to push further. Finally, he steps back, his expression smoothing into that detached mask he wears so well. “Good,” he says, his voice as cold as ice. “Keep it that way.”

He turns to leave but pauses at the door, glancing over his shoulder. “Ivan, behave yourself. Don’t make me regret saving you.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Ivan replies, though his tone is quieter now, subdued.

Maxim leaves without another word, the soft click of the door somehow louder than the tension he leaves behind.

I let out a slow breath, forcing myself to unclench my fists. When I glance at Ivan, he’s watching me with a faint smirk, his dark eyes glinting with something between amusement and approval.

“You’re either the bravest person I’ve ever met, or the most reckless,” he says lightly.

“I’d say it’s a mix of both,” I reply, my tone dry. “But don’t worry—if you push yourself too hard and end up back in critical condition, I’ll be sure to tell Maxim it was your idea.”

Ivan chuckles softly, though it’s clear he’s holding back some pain. “Noted, Doc. Noted.”

I shake my head, turning back to my bag to pack up my supplies. The adrenaline still courses through me, my nerves thrumming from the encounter, but I keep my hands steady. I don’t have time to fall apart—not here.

And for the first time, I realize that standing my ground isn’t just about survival anymore. It’s about proving, to Maxim and to myself, that I’m more than just a pawn in his game.

-------

The sound of heavy footsteps and muffled voices pulls me out of my thoughts. I step into the hallway, drawn by the commotion. Two guards drag a bloodied man down the corridor, his body slumped like a broken marionette.

I should turn around. Go back to Ivan’s room. But something keeps me rooted to the spot, my breath catching as they shove the man into a room at the far end.

I follow, moving quietly, my heart hammering in my chest. The door is partially open, and through the crack, I see Maxim and Kyle standing over the man like shadows come to life. The contrast is striking—Maxim’s calm, controlled presence next to Kyle’s coiled aggression.

“Do you know what you’ve done?” Maxim’s voice is soft, almost soothing, but it sends a chill down my spine.

The man whimpers, blood dripping from a split lip. “P-please… I didn’t mean to…”

Kyle moves first, delivering a blow so fast I barely see it. The sound of fist meeting flesh echoes in the room, and I flinch, pressing myself against the wall outside. I know I should leave, but my feet refuse to move.

Inside, Maxim crouches in front of the man, tilting his head like he’s studying a specimen under a microscope. “Your mistakes,” he says, his voice icy, “have consequences.”

I can’t look away. Every instinct screams at me to run, but I’m frozen, caught between horror and something else—a morbid fascination with the way Maxim commands the room.

A floorboard creaks beneath my foot, and my heart stops.

-----

The room goes silent. Slowly, Maxim turns his head, his piercing green eyes locking onto mine through the crack in the door.

“Doctor,” he says, his voice dangerously soft. “I didn’t realize we had company.”

I freeze, my throat tightening as every muscle in my body screams at me to back away. But I force myself to stay rooted, my hand gripping the edge of the doorway like an anchor. My heart pounds in my chest, but I straighten my shoulders, refusing to look away.

“I—” My voice cracks slightly, and I clear my throat. “I wasn’t trying to interfere,” I say, my voice is firmer than I expect, though my pulse races in my throat. “I heard the noise and thought someone might be hurt.”

Maxim steps forward, his movements slow and deliberate, the space between us shrinking until my back hits the wall. His gaze holds mine, unblinking, and I feel the air grow heavier around us, his presence suffocating.

I swallow hard, my pulse racing as he leans closer, his hand lifting to brush against my jaw. The touch is light—too light—but it sends a shiver down my spine. My instinct is to pull away, to escape, but I force myself to stay still, to meet his gaze even as my chest tightens.

“Curiosity can be dangerous, doctor,” he continues, his breath warms against my cheek. His fingers linger on my jaw, their weight a silent reminder of the power he holds over me. “Especially in a world like mine.”

“I… understand,” I manage, though my voice trembles. My hands clench into fists at my sides, a futile attempt to steady myself.

His lips curve into a faint smile, one that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Do you?” he asks, his tone laced with mockery. “Because standing here, spying on something you shouldn’t be part of, doesn’t scream understanding.”

He’s standing just inches away now, his imposing frame casting a shadow over me. The air between us feels charged, suffocating, and I hate how my body reacts to it—a shiver running down my spine, a heat creeping into my face that I can’t suppress. But I met his gaze, refusing to shrink away.

“I wasn’t spying,” I say, my voice is steadier than I feel. “I just wanted to make sure no one needed medical attention.”

His lips curve into a faint smile, one that doesn’t reach his eyes. “You’re quite the Good Samaritan, aren’t you?” He steps even closer, his presence swallowing the room, and for the first time, I feel the full weight of his dominance pressing down on me.

“You seem… unsettled,” he says softly, tilting his head as his piercing eyes sweep over me. “Tell me, doctor, do I frighten you?”

I flinch at the steel in his voice, but I meet his gaze, my jaw tightening despite the fear coursing through me. “I’m not afraid of you,” I say, surprising myself with the strength in my voice. “But if someone is in danger, I need to know.”

His eyes are narrow, and for a moment, I think I’ve pushed too far. The silence stretches between us, heavy and oppressive, and I brace myself for whatever comes next.

“You’re bold,” he murmurs. “Foolishly so. But boldness won’t protect you in my world.”

His eyes narrow slightly, and for a fleeting moment, I think I might have pushed too far. But then he turns away, his attention shifting back to Kyle and the bloodied man in the chair.

“Finish up here,” Maxim says coldly, his tone is all business now. Kyle nods, his focus returning to their captive as if I’d never interrupted.

Maxim’s voice cuts through the air once more, sharp and unyielding. “Doctor,” he says, not even looking at me. “Don’t wander where you don’t belong.”

His words are a dismissal, but the unspoken warning lingers, heavy and suffocating. Without another glance, he strides out of the room, leaving me standing against the wall, my breath uneven and my hands trembling.

I force myself to move, stepping quickly into the hallway and away from the suffocating tension of that room. But even as I put distance between myself and Maxim, I can still feel his touch on my skin, the memory of his gaze boring into me like a brand.

For the first time, I’m forced to confront a truth I’ve been avoiding since the moment I stepped into his world.

Maxim doesn’t just control my life. He’s starting to invade my very sense of self. And it terrifies me.

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