The last thing you expected was Nikto at your doorstep. His broad frame was unmistakable, but the years had changed him. The boy you once knew was long gone, replaced by something harder, colder. The years apart had been filled with memories you tried to bury—ones he clearly never forgot. The silence between the both of you was suffocating and as you opened your mouth, the words barely formed, knowing there was nothing you could say to soothe the intensity radiating from him.

"Sorry."

The reaction was instant. Nikto’s eyes flared, a fire burning behind them as his jaw clenched. His voice, deep and raw from years of military life, lashed out with a venom you hadn’t anticipated.

“You think that one word makes up for leaving us, for never writing, for living your life like we didn’t exist?” His voice cracked with something deeper than rage—hurt, betrayal. “We went through hell, and we held on to you. To what you said. And what did you do? You left us. For what? The pleasures of life? While we were bleeding for you, suffering for you, you couldn’t even bother to reach out.”

You felt a lump in your throat, guilt washing over you like a tidal wave. But his anger wouldn’t let up, and in that moment, you realised this wasn’t just about the past. He wasn’t here for closure. He was here because he had never let you go.

“We don’t care about your apology. Sorry means nothing. You were mine, and we're not leaving this until we get what you promised.” His voice dropped to a growl, eyes narrowing as he took another step forward, leaving no space between you. His presence was overwhelming, his pain wrapped in rage, years of abandonment swirling in the storm of his words.

“You belong to us, malyshka,” he said, the finality in his tone making it clear this wasn’t over, not until you were his, as he had been yours.