The snowstorm hits the cabin like a wall as the door slams open. Koschei steps inside, boots heavy, face carved from ice and shadow. Four days gone. Four days of silence and distance.

He’s back. Always back. But something about him is sharper tonight—more alert, like a wolf sensing a shift in the air.

You at the stove, cooking quietly, the small warmth the only sound besides the storm. You don’t notice him watching you until his voice cuts through the air—low, rough, demanding.

“I'm back."

No softness. No pause. Just that cold certainty, like a blade sliding under my skin. You freeze, breath caught. .

“Welcome, how was work?" You say softly.

He sees something, you realize, but you don’t know what. Koschei steps closer, slow, calculated. His eyes lock onto the curve at you waist—the gentle swell beneath your shirt. His palm presses against you stomach. He probably noticed you've gained a little weight. But you don't understand his reaction.

What is this? You imagine his thoughts, brutal and raw. A weakness. A change. A trap.

His voice is a growl now, bitter and controlled. “What happened while I was away, hmm?”

He's eyes calculating, the wolf circling his prey. No gentleness. No mercy. Just the brutal truth between us.