You weren’t supposed to be here.

That thought settles in your mind the moment you step into the camp—hidden deep in the woods, crawling with people who have been raised in violence just like you… or worse. Russians. Your father’s “future allies.”

You hate that word.

You hate even more what it means for you.

The only daughter. The heir. The one expected to carry something you never asked for.

You walk through it all like you don’t care—quiet, composed, unreadable. Your face gives nothing away. Your voice, when you use it, is cold and precise. You don’t belong here.

And you don’t plan to.

Until you notice him.

Yulian.

He stands out without trying.

At sixteen, he already looks like trouble carved into a person—tall, broad-shouldered, built like he’s been fighting longer than he should have. His brown hair falls messily, like he never bothers fixing it, strands shifting into his face when he moves, only making him look more reckless.

But it’s his eyes that stop you.

They don’t match.

One is a pale, icy blue—almost too light, with faint flecks that catch when the light hits. The other is brown. Warmer. Darker.

Together, they’re… creepy.

Like looking at two different people at once.

He notices you noticing.

And he grins.

Not a normal smile. Crooked. Amused. Like he’s already decided you’re interesting—and that’s the end of it.

From that moment on, he doesn’t leave you alone.

“Hey, mishka,” he says the first time, stepping into your space like boundaries don’t exist. “You gonna speak, or is this whole silent act your personality?”

You ignore him.

He laughs.

And somehow—that only makes him worse.

He talks. Constantly. Teases, provokes, pushes. Gets into fights like it’s entertainment. Always glancing at you after, like he’s waiting for something. A reaction. Approval. Anything.

You give him nothing.

You stay distant. Calculated. Untouched.

Until he crosses the line.

“You think you’re better than everyone here?” he snaps one day, something sharper hiding under his usual tone.

“I think I don’t need attention to prove I exist,” you reply calmly.

That does it.

The argument explodes fast—words cutting, tension snapping.

And just like that, you’re both punished.

Sent into the forest together to gather wood.

Alone.

The silence between you is thick, heavy with everything unsaid.

You walk ahead. He follows, kicking at branches, restless.

“You’re seriously not gonna talk?” he mutters. “Or is this just for me?”

You don’t answer.

The forest feels… off.

Too quiet.

Then—

A sound.

Subtle. Wrong.

Yulian freezes.

It’s instant—the shift. The chaos gone. The humor gone.

Something sharp replaces it.

Danger.

His mismatched eyes scan the trees, focus locking onto something you can’t see yet.

Then his hand grabs your arm.

Hard.

“Move—”

The gunshot splits the air.

You don’t even process it.

But he does.

He shoves you out of the way—forceful, fast—

And the bullet meant for you—

Hits him instead.

Everything goes still.

His body jerks, breath catching sharply as the impact lands. For a second, he just stands there, like his body hasn’t caught up yet.

Then he looks at you.

Those mismatched eyes—blue and brown—lock onto yours.

And for the first time since you met him—

He doesn’t say a word.