Chapter Text
The first signs that something was wrong came long before Mika opened her eyes.
A dull ache pulsed through her skull, each throb stronger than the last, as if someone were striking a hammer against the inside of her head. Her mouth was dry, her limbs felt impossibly heavy, and a wave of nausea rolled through her stomach the moment she stirred. For several seconds, she remained perfectly still, trapped somewhere between sleep and consciousness, trying to understand why every part of her body hurt.
Then she became aware of the ground beneath her.
Cold asphalt.
The realization sent a jolt of panic through her. Her eyes snapped open, only to be met by the pale glow of streetlights hanging over an empty parking lot. Rows of abandoned parking spaces stretched around her in every direction, while a distant highway hummed somewhere beyond the darkness. The neon lights of the Las Vegas Strip were nowhere in sight.
Mika pushed herself upright, immediately regretting the movement as dizziness crashed over her. She pressed a trembling hand against her forehead and squeezed her eyes shut, struggling to steady her breathing. Nothing about her surroundings made sense. The last thing she remembered was being surrounded by thousands of people at EDC Las Vegas, music vibrating through the ground beneath her feet, colorful lights dancing across the desert sky. She had been laughing with friends, drinking, enjoying the freedom she had been chasing for months.
Everything after that was a blur.
Her pulse quickened as she looked down at herself.
A wave of horror swept through her.
One of her shoes was missing. Her clothing was disheveled, partially torn, and several buttons had been ripped away completely. Bruises darkened the pale skin of her arms and thighs, while scratches marked her shoulders and neck. Her stomach twisted violently as fragmented images flashed through her mind. Hands. Voices. The overwhelming scent of alcohol and sweat. Someone grabbing her arm. Darkness swallowing everything that followed.
"No..."
The word escaped her lips as little more than a whisper.
Mika's hands began to shake uncontrollably. She searched desperately for another explanation, something that would make sense of the nightmare unfolding around her. Maybe she had fallen. Maybe she had been robbed. Maybe she had simply wandered away from the festival while intoxicated.
But deep down, she already knew.
The bruises told their own story.
The soreness throughout her body told the rest.
A suffocating feeling settled in her chest as reality slowly took hold. Tears blurred her vision, though she barely noticed them. She wrapped her arms around herself as if she could somehow shield herself from what had happened. The vast parking lot suddenly felt endless, the silence pressing down on her from every direction.
For several minutes, she remained there, sitting on the cold pavement beneath the glow of the streetlights. Cars occasionally passed on the distant road, their headlights briefly illuminating the darkness before disappearing again. The city around her continued to move, alive with tourists, casinos, and celebrations, completely unaware that her world had just shattered.
Eventually, her shaking hands found her purse lying several feet away. She crawled toward it, her movements unsteady, and fumbled through its contents. Relief washed over her when she discovered her phone still inside. The screen illuminated her tear-streaked face as she stared at it, uncertain who to call.
The police.
A hospital.
One of her friends.
Yet none of those names felt right.
Only one person came to mind.
Pavel.
Mika stared at his contact information for several long seconds. Croatia was thousands of miles away. It was the middle of the night there. The last thing she wanted was to admit how badly she had lost control of her life since her mother's death. Yet as another wave of fear and humiliation threatened to overwhelm her, she realized she could not do this alone.
Her thumb hovered over the screen before finally pressing the call button.
The phone rang once.
Twice.
Then Pavel answered.
The familiar sound of his voice nearly broke what little composure she had left.
"Mika?"
For a moment, she could not speak. Her throat tightened as tears spilled freely down her cheeks. She lowered her head, struggling to force the words out while the cold desert air brushed against her skin.
"Pavel..."
The silence that followed lasted only a heartbeat, but it was enough.
Something in her voice told him everything.
And on the other side of the world, Pavel Bartok was already reaching for his keys.
A woman had found Mika sitting on the curb beside an almost deserted parking lot on the outskirts of Las Vegas shortly before dawn. The stranger had slowed her car after spotting the young woman alone, her clothes disheveled and her skin marked with bruises that stood out beneath the harsh glow of a nearby streetlamp. Mika had already regained consciousness by then, but she seemed disconnected from the world around her, staring into the distance as if her mind were trapped somewhere far beyond the empty asphalt and neon-lit horizon. When the woman approached and gently asked if she was hurt, Mika struggled to answer. Her throat felt raw, her thoughts fragmented, and every attempt to piece together the events of the night ended in a wall of darkness.
The drive to the hospital passed in a blur. Mika sat silently in the passenger seat, clutching the edge of the seatbelt so tightly that her knuckles turned white. The woman spoke occasionally, offering reassurance and asking simple questions, but Mika barely heard her. Her body ached in places she did not want to acknowledge, and every movement sent a fresh wave of discomfort through her. Deep down, beneath the confusion and the gaps in her memory, she already knew something terrible had happened. She did not remember faces, names, or even how she had ended up so far from the Las Vegas Strip and the EDC festival grounds, but the pain she felt left little room for doubt.
The hospital became a long series of bright lights, quiet hallways, and concerned voices. Nurses guided her from one examination room to another while doctors carefully documented her injuries and ordered a series of tests. Hours seemed to disappear as blood samples were taken and questions were asked, many of which Mika struggled to answer. She remained cooperative, but distant, her gaze often drifting toward the window as if searching for an explanation somewhere beyond the city skyline. Each new procedure only reinforced the reality she was desperately trying to avoid.
By late afternoon, exhaustion weighed heavily on her shoulders. Wrapped in a hospital blanket, she sat alone in a private room, staring at the untouched meal resting on a tray nearby. The constant activity had finally slowed, leaving her alone with her thoughts, and that proved far more difficult than any medical examination. The uncertainty surrounding the night haunted her, but the fear of what had happened no longer felt uncertain at all. Somewhere between the empty parking lot and the sterile hospital room, Mika had come to accept a truth she wished she could deny. Whatever had been done to her, it had stolen far more than a single night from her life.
In the afternoon, a detective from the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department arrived at the hospital to speak with Mika. He introduced himself with quiet professionalism, his calm demeanor suggesting that he had handled countless cases similar to hers over the years. Dressed in a simple dark suit and carrying a worn leather notebook beneath one arm, he pulled a chair beside her bed and patiently began asking questions. Throughout the interview, he encouraged her to focus on even the smallest details, explaining that seemingly insignificant memories could sometimes become crucial pieces of evidence.
Mika tried her best to cooperate.
She closed her eyes several times, desperately searching the fog that had settled over her memory. She remembered the bright lights of EDC Las Vegas flashing against the desert sky. She remembered music so loud she could feel it vibrating through her chest. She remembered laughing with friends and feeling free for the first time in months. Beyond that, however, everything dissolved into darkness. No faces. No names. No voices she could identify. Only scattered fragments that refused to fit together into anything coherent.
The detective remained patient despite her inability to provide useful information. He never raised his voice or appeared frustrated. Instead, he quietly jotted down notes before asking another question from a slightly different angle, hoping to unlock something hidden beneath the confusion. Unfortunately, each attempt led to the same result. The memories simply weren't there, and the harder Mika searched for them, the more exhausted she felt.
When it became clear that she had nothing more to offer, the detective finally closed his notebook and rose from his chair. Reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket, he removed a business card and carefully placed it on the bedside table beside her.
"If anything comes back to you," he said gently, "call me. It doesn't matter if it's tomorrow, next week, or next month. Sometimes memories have a way of returning when people least expect them."
Mika nodded, though her attention had already begun to drift. The detective offered her a sympathetic smile before quietly leaving the room, the soft click of the closing door leaving her alone once more. For several moments, she simply stared at the card resting beside the untouched hospital meal she had barely touched all day.
Eventually, she reached for it.
Her fingers closed around the small piece of cardstock before she dropped it into the nearest wastebasket without a second thought. The card landed among discarded tissues and plastic packaging, disappearing from sight. She knew she would never call him. Whatever had happened that night felt as though it had been erased from existence, swallowed whole by a darkness she could neither penetrate nor understand. No matter how desperately she searched her mind, she doubted those missing hours would ever return.
Her gaze slowly drifted toward the large hospital window overlooking the city.
The Las Vegas skyline shimmered beneath the afternoon sun, but Mika barely noticed it. Instead, her thoughts had turned toward a man who was currently somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean.
Pavel.
The mere thought of his arrival caused a knot to tighten in her stomach.
She picked up her phone and glanced at the screen, though she knew there would be no new messages. Pavel had never been a man who wasted words. When he said he was coming, he came. At that very moment, his private jet was carrying him toward Las Vegas, and with every passing hour, the moment she would have to face him drew closer.
The prospect unsettled her more than she cared to admit.
Mika lowered her eyes and rubbed her palms against the blanket covering her legs. Part of her wondered if she could avoid telling him the truth altogether. Perhaps she could claim that she had managed to escape before anything happened. Maybe she could tell him that a group of men had followed her after the festival and that she had run away before they could harm her. The story sounded weak the moment she formed it in her mind, yet she clung to it briefly, grasping at any possibility that might spare her from having to say the words aloud.
The problem was that Pavel Bartok was far too intelligent to believe such an explanation.
She had spent years watching him dismantle excuses and half-truths with almost effortless precision. Pavel noticed details other people overlooked. He listened carefully, observed everything, and possessed an uncanny ability to recognize when someone was hiding something from him. If she attempted to lie, he would see through it almost immediately. He would ask questions. He would notice her hesitation. He would keep digging until the truth revealed itself.
A weary sigh escaped her lips.
No.
Pavel would never believe her.
What troubled her even more was the possibility that she would not have to tell him anything at all.
The doctors already knew.
They had performed the examinations. They had documented her injuries. They had collected evidence and asked questions she could barely bring herself to answer. Mika understood that her medical information was confidential, yet she also knew that once Pavel became involved in helping her, the truth would eventually surface. Whether she spoke of it or not, he would learn what had happened.
The realization settled heavily on her chest.
It wasn't Pavel's judgment she feared. She knew him well enough to understand that he would never blame her. If anything, his anger would be directed elsewhere. That was precisely what worried her. Pavel was fiercely protective of the people he cared about, and she could only imagine how he would react once he learned the full extent of what had been done to her.
Outside, the afternoon gradually gave way to evening as the first lights began to appear across the city. Inside the hospital room, silence settled around her once more. Mika remained seated on the bed, listening to the distant sounds of nurses moving through the corridors and the quiet hum of the air conditioning overhead. Somewhere far beyond the horizon, Pavel's aircraft continued its journey toward Nevada, carrying with it a confrontation that could no longer be avoided. Whether she was ready or not, the truth was waiting for him at the end of that flight.
It was nearly eight o’clock in the evening when exhaustion finally claimed Mika. The events of the day had drained every ounce of strength from her body, leaving her emotionally numb and physically depleted. The hospital room was quiet now, illuminated only by the soft glow of a bedside lamp and the distant lights of Las Vegas beyond the window. Wrapped beneath a thin blanket, she had eventually drifted into a deep sleep, her breathing slow and steady for the first time since waking up in that deserted parking lot.
Earlier that evening, one of the doctors had informed her that Pavel was on his way from Croatia. The news had not surprised her. If there was one thing Mika knew about her half brother, it was that he always found a way. Still, she could not remember ever telling him which hospital she had been taken to. The realization lingered in the back of her mind as she fought against sleep. Then she remembered mentioning Pavel's name to one of the nurses and providing his phone number when they had asked for an emergency contact. Someone from the hospital had almost certainly called him after learning the circumstances surrounding her admission.
The thought had left her with mixed feelings.
Part of her had been relieved to know he was coming. Another part dreaded the inevitable conversation waiting for her once he arrived. Pavel would ask questions. He would want answers she could not provide. Most troubling of all, he would see through any attempt to minimize what had happened. Eventually, those worries faded beneath the overwhelming exhaustion weighing on her, and sleep finally carried her away.
Meanwhile, somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean, Pavel had been making arrangements of his own.
The moment he learned where Mika was, he had ensured she would remain at the hospital until his arrival. Money had never been an obstacle for Pavel Bartok, and he had no intention of allowing his twenty-eight-year-old half sister to leave the safety of medical supervision and wander through Las Vegas alone after what she had endured. The additional expense meant nothing to him. What mattered was knowing that she was somewhere secure while he crossed an ocean to reach her.
By the time Pavel's jet touched down in Las Vegas, night had fully settled over the city. The famous skyline shimmered beneath the darkness, its endless display of neon lights and illuminated resorts creating an illusion of celebration that felt strangely disconnected from reality. Pavel had little interest in the city surrounding him. While others arrived in Las Vegas seeking excitement, he had come for only one reason.
Mika.
Refusing the services of a chauffeur, Pavel slid behind the wheel of a rental vehicle himself and headed directly toward the hospital. The drive passed in near silence. His hands remained steady on the steering wheel, but beneath that calm exterior, his thoughts were far less composed. He had spent the entire flight reviewing every detail he had been given, every medical update, every unanswered question. The fact that Mika had called him personally told him everything he needed to know. She had been frightened enough to reach out for help, and that alone unsettled him more than he cared to admit.
Less than an hour later, Pavel entered the hospital lobby. The building was quieter than it had been during the day, with only a handful of visitors lingering near the reception desk. Nurses moved through the corridors with practiced efficiency while the distant hum of medical equipment echoed softly through the otherwise peaceful environment. After briefly speaking with the staff, he made his way toward the elevators and ascended to the third floor where Mika's room was located.
The corridor was nearly empty when he stepped out of the elevator.
His long stride carried him toward her room with quiet determination, though he slowed as he approached the partially closed door. For a moment, he simply stood there, gathering himself. Throughout the journey from Croatia, he had focused entirely on reaching her. Now that he was finally here, he found himself reluctant to cross the final distance separating them.
Carefully, he pushed the door open.
The room was dimly lit, bathed in the soft glow of a lamp near the window. Mika remained asleep, completely unaware of his arrival. Her short brown pixie cut was slightly disheveled against the pillow, and exhaustion was still visible even in sleep. The oversized hospital gown hung loosely from her small frame, making her appear younger and more vulnerable than he remembered.
Pavel stepped inside and quietly closed the door behind him.
At six foot five, he seemed to fill the room without even trying, yet he moved with surprising care as he approached her bedside. His gaze lingered on the bruises that had not yet begun to fade, and a tightness settled in his chest. Seeing photographs and reading medical reports had been one thing. Seeing Mika in person was something else entirely.
Slowly, he reached out.
The back of his large hand brushed gently against her cheek, careful not to disturb her sleep. His touch was light, almost hesitant, as though he feared causing her pain even now. Mika stirred slightly but did not wake. Curled beneath the blanket, she seemed impossibly small beside him. At barely five foot three, she had always appeared petite compared to Pavel, but tonight the contrast felt even more striking.
For several seconds, he remained there in silence, studying her sleeping face.
The fierce independence that usually defined Mika had vanished for the moment, replaced by a vulnerability she rarely allowed anyone to witness. As he looked at her, a protective instinct rose inside him with surprising force. Whatever had happened in Las Vegas, whatever horrors the missing hours concealed, one thing had become absolutely certain.
She would not face any of it alone.
Months had passed since Mika had last seen Pavel. In truth, the last time they had been together was during one of the most painful periods of her life, the funeral of her mother, Elena. Since then, oceans, obligations, and separate lives had kept them apart. Their conversations had become occasional phone calls and brief messages exchanged across time zones. Yet despite the distance, Pavel had remained one of the few constants in her life, a presence she had always known she could rely on when everything else seemed uncertain.
Half-asleep beneath the hospital blankets, Mika stirred when she felt something warm brush gently against her cheek. At first, her mind struggled to emerge from the heavy fog of exhaustion. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of a bedside lamp casting long shadows across the walls. Confusion lingered for several seconds as her vision slowly sharpened and focused on the tall figure standing beside her bed.
Then she saw him.
Pavel.
For a moment, she simply stared.
His broad shoulders filled the space beside the bed, his familiar features illuminated by the muted hospital lighting. He looked exactly as she remembered and yet somehow different. Perhaps it was the concern visible in his eyes or the exhaustion etched into his face after crossing an ocean to reach her. Whatever the reason, the sight of him shattered the fragile control she had been clinging to throughout the day.
The fear, the confusion, and the loneliness she had forced herself to suppress suddenly became impossible to contain.
Without thinking, Mika pushed herself upright and threw herself toward him.
A small sound escaped her throat, somewhere between a sob and a desperate gasp, as she wrapped both arms around him with surprising strength. She clung to him as though letting go might cause him to disappear. Words refused to come. Every sentence she might have spoken became trapped behind the knot tightening painfully in her throat. Instead, tears spilled freely down her cheeks while her body trembled against his.
To much of the world, Pavel Bartok was a controversial figure.
Newspapers described him as a powerful Russian oligarch and the CEO of Bartok Airways. Television commentators debated his influence, questioned his decisions, and speculated endlessly about the empire he had built. To many, he was a distant and intimidating businessman whose name inspired admiration, suspicion, or fear depending on who was speaking.
To Mika, however, he was none of those things.
To her, Pavel was simply the older half brother who had shown up whenever life had fallen apart. The man who never made promises he could not keep. The man who, despite the years separating them and the thousands of miles between their homes, always found a way to be there when she needed him most.
Pavel reacted instantly.
His arms closed around her, enveloping her completely within the safety of his embrace. Against his chest, Mika felt impossibly small. He held her firmly but carefully, one hand resting protectively against the back of her head while the other settled across her shoulders. He could feel the tremors running through her body, the silent grief and terror she had carried alone since waking up in that parking lot. The pain radiating from her was almost tangible.
For a brief moment, Pavel closed his eyes.
The sight of her medical reports had angered him. Seeing the bruises with his own eyes had been worse. Feeling her break down in his arms was almost unbearable. Yet none of that showed on his face. Right now, this moment was not about his anger or the questions that still needed answers.
It was about Mika.
Lowering his head slightly, he spoke in a calm voice that contrasted with the storm raging beneath the surface.
"It's okay. It's okay, Mika. I'm here."
His hand moved slowly through her short brown hair as he continued to hold her.
"Shhh... everything will be alright."
Mika buried her face against his chest and cried harder. The tears came without restraint now, carrying away the fear she had been holding inside for nearly twenty-four hours. She could not explain what had happened. She could not remember enough to answer the questions everyone kept asking. At that moment, none of it mattered.
For the first time since that terrible night, she no longer felt alone.
The familiar scent of Pavel's cologne lingered in the air around her, subtle yet unmistakable. It carried traces of cedarwood, leather, and something distinctly masculine that instantly transported her back to countless memories she had nearly forgotten. Mika squeezed her eyes shut and allowed herself, for the first time since waking up in that deserted parking lot, to simply exist in the safety of his embrace. Wrapped within his arms, sheltered by a presence that had always represented stability in her life, she felt some of the crushing loneliness that had haunted her throughout the day begin to loosen its grip.
She wasn't alone anymore.
The realization struck her with unexpected force.
For nearly twenty-four hours, she had been navigating a nightmare she barely understood. Doctors had questioned her. That Detective had asked her to remember details that refused to surface. Nurses had offered kind smiles and comforting words, but none of it had managed to quiet the fear constantly gnawing at her from within. Now, standing in Pavel's arms, the fragile wall she had built around her emotions finally collapsed.
"I'm scared. I don't know what to do."
The words emerged between broken sobs and uneven breaths. Her voice trembled as she buried her face deeper against his chest, clutching the fabric of his shirt as though it were the only thing keeping her grounded. Tears continued to stream down her cheeks, soaking into the dark material beneath her fingers. The fear she had been carrying alone was finally escaping, and once it started, she found herself unable to stop.
Deep down, Mika knew her life had been spiraling for months.
Ever since her mother's death, she had been drifting from one destination to another, filling her days with parties, expensive trips, and endless distractions. The inheritance Elena had left behind had given her a freedom that initially felt exhilarating. No schedules. No responsibilities. No one telling her what to do. At the time, it had seemed like the perfect escape from grief. Looking back now, she could see how easily she had lost herself along the way.
None of what had happened in Las Vegas was her fault.
A small, rational part of her understood that.
Yet guilt had a cruel way of ignoring reason.
As she stood there trembling in Pavel's embrace, she found herself replaying every decision that had brought her to that night. If she had stayed home. If she had skipped the festival. If she had left earlier. If she had been more careful. The questions were endless, each one carrying the same painful implication. Although she knew she had done nothing to deserve what had happened, she could not silence the voice whispering that somehow she should have prevented it.
Slowly, she lifted her head.
Her blue eyes were flooded with tears, the moisture making their color appear even more vivid beneath the soft hospital lighting. They seemed almost luminous against her pale complexion and the short reddish-brown pixie cut framing her face. The contrast only emphasized how vulnerable she looked, as though the confident, adventurous woman who had arrived in Las Vegas days earlier had vanished entirely.
Pavel looked down at her, his expression softening as he took in the pain written across her features.
For a brief moment, neither of them spoke.
The city of Las Vegas continued to glow beyond the hospital window, its countless lights illuminating the darkness outside, but inside the room the world felt strangely distant. There was only the quiet hum of medical equipment, the steady rhythm of Mika's uneven breathing, and the protective circle of Pavel's arms around her. Whatever words needed to be said could wait. Right now, all that mattered was that she was safe, and for the first time since that terrible night, Mika allowed herself to believe it.
****************************************
Several hours after leaving Las Vegas aboard Pavel's private jet, Mika was finally beginning to feel the tension slowly loosen its grip on her body. The nightmare she had endured still lingered at the edges of her mind, surfacing in brief flashes whenever her thoughts drifted too far. Yet for the first time since waking up alone and terrified on the outskirts of the city, she felt something she had almost forgotten existed: safety. Wrapped in a soft blanket near one of the cabin windows, she watched the endless expanse of clouds glide beneath the aircraft, allowing the steady hum of the engines to quiet the chaos inside her head.
Across from her, Pavel remained focused on a collection of documents displayed on his iPad, though Mika suspected he had barely read a single page since takeoff. Every few minutes, his gaze would lift in her direction, checking on her without making it obvious. It was a habit she had noticed years ago. Pavel rarely expressed concern through words alone. Instead, he watched, observed, and made certain the people he cared about were safe long before they realized they needed protecting. Knowing he was there brought her a comfort she could not easily explain.
The difference in their ages had always attracted curious looks from strangers. Pavel was now in his early fifties, a powerful businessman whose life revolved around international meetings, private jets, and responsibilities that stretched across continents. Mika, meanwhile, was still in her late twenties, trying to find her place in a world that often felt far larger than she was prepared for. More than once, people had assumed their relationship was something other than what it was. The confusion usually disappeared once they learned Pavel was her older half-brother, though the explanation often invited even more questions.
The truth, at least the version Mika had always known, was relatively simple. Pavel had been born during the first marriage of his father. Many years later, after that marriage ended, Pavel's father had fallen in love again with a woman named Elena, Mika's mother. Their relationship eventually led to Mika's birth in the late 1990s, creating a family divided by decades, different mothers, and entirely different lives. Despite the unusual age gap, Mika had never questioned the bond she shared with Pavel. From her earliest memories, he had been a constant presence, appearing whenever life became difficult, offering support without judgment and protection without conditions.
As the aircraft continued its journey toward Croatia, Mika turned her attention back to the window. Somewhere beyond the horizon waited Pavel's villa overlooking the Adriatic Sea, a place she had only seen in photographs and brief video calls. For now, she knew very little about what awaited her there. All she knew was that Las Vegas was growing farther away with every passing mile, and for the first time in a long while, she was not entirely afraid of what came next.
As the hours passed and the private jet continued its journey across the Atlantic, the cabin settled into a calm and almost surreal silence. The soft hum of the engines blended with the muted clinking of silverware as the flight attendants prepared dinner. Outside the windows, the sky had darkened, leaving only the occasional glow of distant clouds illuminated by the moonlight. For most passengers, it would have been a comfortable and relaxing flight. For Mika, however, it felt as though she were drifting through a world that no longer belonged to her.
When dinner was served, a flight attendant carefully placed a plate in front of Pavel. Perfectly cooked meat, fragrant rice, and a selection of vegetables were arranged with the precision expected aboard a private jet. A second plate was gently set before Mika. The aroma was inviting, but it might as well have been invisible. She stared at the food for several seconds without truly seeing it, her thoughts lost somewhere far beyond the cabin walls. The events of the past twenty-four hours had left her emotionally exhausted. She felt present in body, yet her mind seemed detached, floating somewhere between Las Vegas and Croatia.
The flight attendant offered her a sympathetic smile. "Would you like me to bring you anything else, Miss Bartok?"
Mika slowly shook her head. "No, thank you. I'm not hungry."
Across from her, Pavel lifted his gaze from the documents displayed on his tablet. His eyes lingered on her for a moment, taking in the exhaustion written across her features. He did not insist, nor did he lecture her about needing to eat. He simply gave a subtle nod to the flight attendant, who quietly removed the untouched plate. Pavel understood better than most that healing could not be rushed. Some wounds were invisible, and no amount of food or rest could immediately erase them.
"It's all right," he said calmly, his deep voice carrying the familiar reassurance that had comforted her so many times throughout her life. "When you feel like eating, there'll be something for you."
A faint smile touched his lips before he returned his attention to the tablet resting on his lap. The gesture was small, almost insignificant, yet it warmed something inside her. Pavel had always possessed an unusual ability to make her feel protected without making her feel weak. He never pushed. He simply remained there, steady and dependable, like an anchor in a storm.
Mika reached for her phone and slipped her AirPods into her ears. Anything to quiet her thoughts, even if only for a few minutes. Her fingers moved automatically across the screen until Spotify opened before her. Moments later, the opening notes of Science by Deadmau5 filled her ears, surrounding her with a familiar melody. She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes briefly, allowing the music to wash over her. Yet despite her efforts, her gaze continued to drift toward Pavel.
Every time she looked at him, the same painful truth resurfaced.
For as long as she could remember, her feelings for him had been far more complicated than they should have been. It was something she had spent years trying to ignore, bury, and rationalize. Whenever months passed without seeing him, she convinced herself the feelings were fading. Distance always seemed to weaken them, allowing her to believe she was finally moving on. Then Pavel would walk back into her life, and the illusion would shatter almost instantly.
Now, sitting only a few feet away from him, she knew better than to lie to herself.
The feelings remained exactly where they had always been, buried deep beneath layers of guilt and silence. She hated herself for it. She understood how wrong it was. Pavel was her older half-brother, the one person who had always protected her and cared for her without question. Nothing good could ever come from feelings she could never confess. Yet knowing that did nothing to diminish them. If anything, the impossibility of it all only made the secret heavier to carry.
Her mother, Elena, had never known.
The thought tightened something in Mika's chest as she stared out the window into the darkness beyond the glass. Elena had gone to her grave without ever suspecting the truth hidden inside her daughter's heart. Their father had died two years earlier, taking with him countless family memories and unanswered questions. Both of them were gone now, leaving Mika with only one remaining piece of the family she had once known.
Pavel.
The realization struck her with renewed force.
He was all she had left.
That alone was enough to keep her silent forever.
No matter how much it hurt, she would never risk destroying the bond they shared. The secret would remain hers and hers alone, locked away where no one could ever find it. She would carry it for the rest of her life if she had to. Some truths were simply too dangerous to speak aloud.
As Science continued to play softly through her AirPods, Mika turned her gaze back toward the darkness outside. Somewhere ahead lay Croatia, Pavel's villa, and a future she could not yet imagine. Behind her lay Las Vegas, a city she desperately wanted to forget. Suspended between the two, high above the ocean and wrapped in the quiet comfort of Pavel's presence, Mika slowly closed her eyes.
For now, she allowed herself to believe that some secrets could remain buried forever. Little did she know that the greatest secret of all was not the one hidden in her heart. It was the one sitting quietly across from her, only a few feet away...