Bound by lies, Trapped by Desire - Chapter 91: Chapter 91

Elena’s POV:
She stood there like a startled deer caught in headlights.
An Asian girl—petite, maybe just barely five feet—flushed, trembling, and clearly on the verge of falling apart. I recognized her vaguely from campus—she’d floated around lecture halls, always quiet, always with a book clutched to her chest like armor. I’d never known her name, but her face stuck in my mind. Big eyes. Glossy black hair pulled back into a neat braid. Today, strands were falling loose around her rosy cheeks, clinging to skin.
Between her and two guys.
One of whom made my stomach twist in revulsion the second I locked eyes with him.
And the other?
Lazar Morozov.
Tall. Stoic. Dispassionate as ever.
And yet, for the first time, there was something flickering behind his otherwise unreadable eyes. Disapproval? Resignation? I couldn’t tell. But it wasn’t nothing.
I blinked, stunned for a moment. The girl was backed against a metal shelf of cleaning supplies, visibly shaking, and both men had been far too close. Her face was red, blotchy with smeared mascara and silent sobs. The silence was crushing, awkward, unbearable.
I cleared my throat. “Uh… what’s going on? Are you… okay?” My voice came out way softer than I meant it to, hesitant, awkward.
God. I wanted to slap myself. I sounded like some nosy freshman who walked in on a couple making out. And yeah, sure—I’d been a crying mess more than once after doing things with Nikolai, but not because it wasn’t consensual. Not because I was terrified. But because it felt that good.
But still… I couldn’t jump to conclusions.
The first to react was Lazar. He scoffed lowly and took a deliberate step back, putting distance between himself and the girl. His expression didn’t change much, but there was something wary in the way his eyes shifted.
The girl turned quickly, wiping at her face with trembling hands. She snatched up a worn brown leather bag, clutching it against her chest like a shield. Then without a word, she darted past me, her shoulder brushing mine as she fled down the hall.
She wasn’t strong. Not physically. I barely moved at her contact, but the impact lingered in a strange way, like she left a residue of panic behind her.
Poor thing. She looked like she just wanted to disappear.
I let out a sigh, already kind of regretting stepping into whatever this was. For all I knew that girl probably wanted to make out with two of the richest guys on campus.
I started to turn, ready to just walk away and let the drama die quietly behind me, when a familiar, grating voice stopped me in my tracks.
“Elena,” Dmitri drawled.
I turned slowly.
He stood in the middle of the narrow room, shoulders squared, lips twisted into an indignant sneer. There was something off about his expression. His eyes were slightly unfocused, and I could smell it now—alcohol. Faint but present.
He took a step toward me. “What the fuck was that? You jealous?”
I stared at him, genuinely stunned. Was he serious?
“Are you for real?” I said, brows raised. “Jealous? Of who, exactly?”
He rolled his eyes. “Don’t play dumb, Elena. First you curse me out and act like I’m nothing to you. Then you barge in here and ruin my moment. What, I can’t even make out with someone now?”
Oh, Jesus. He was actually serious. This wasn’t just a bad joke.
I glanced at Lazar, who had moved to lean against the doorway, arms crossed, head tilted. His expression didn’t change, but I saw it—the slight twitch at his jaw. Even he thought Dmitri was off his rocker.
“You think I’m jealous?” I asked, incredulous. But then I paused.
I looked toward the direction the girl had run and then nodded slowly, “Yeah. You’re right. I was jealous.”
Dmitri’s face lit up, a smug grin already curling his lips.
Lazar straightened slightly, eyes narrowing.
But I wasn’t done.
I stepped forward and tilted my chin. “Jealous of you, not her. She’s beautiful. Sweet. She didn’t deserve this.”
Dmitri blinked.
I smiled coldly. “Because let’s be honest, Dmitri—you don’t even know how to kiss properly.”
He froze.
“The hell did you just say to me?” he asked, voice dropping an octave.
I didn’t stop.
I took another step forward, closing the distance. “Exactly what you heard. You brothers might be assholes, but at least the older one? He knows how to kiss. You? I didn’t even realize how bad you were until I had a proper benchmark. She probably did too. That’s why she ran away crying.”
His face darkened. Blood rushed to his cheeks. The alcohol on his breath was stronger now. His fists curled at his sides.
And then—
He lunged forward and grabbed my hoodie by the collar.
My breath caught.
His fist pulled back.
For a split second, I saw it. The punch forming. The violence he’d never dared before.
But I wasn’t twelve anymore. I wasn’t scared of a man hitting me.
I grabbed his arm with both hands, twisting hard. My shoulder throbbed with the motion, but I didn’t flinch.
And then Lazar finally snapped out of his statue mode.
He stepped in with a force I hadn’t expected, shoving Dmitri back with both hands. The contact slammed Dmitri into the wall.
“The fuck is wrong with you!?” Lazar hissed, voice low but deadly. “You’re going to get expelled. You know how close you already are. And now this?”
Dmitri blinked stupidly, dazed by the force of the shove.
“The professor already gave me a warning because of you,” Lazar growled. “I’m not going to cover your ass again. Stop this shit.”
Dmitri didn’t answer. Just kept staring at me like I’d betrayed him somehow. Like I owed him something.
I took a step back, my heart still slamming against my ribs. My hands were trembling slightly, but I kept them clenched at my sides.
Lazar turned his glare on me next.
“What are you still doing here? Leave.”
I scoffed. “Gladly.”
I adjusted my bag on my shoulder and walked toward the door, but paused just before passing him.
“It might do you some good to teach your bestie that this isn’t his daddy’s private property. If you’re gonna make out with girls, do it somewhere that isn’t public access.”
Lazar’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t say anything.
I turned on my heel and left, the door creaking behind me before swinging shut.
Fuck the library.
I needed coffee.
Desperately.
My hands were still shaking as I left the building. My feet moved on instinct, crossing the front courtyard, pushing through the gates and out onto the sidewalk. The afternoon air was crisp, sun dipping low enough to cast long shadows between the trees. Golden light filtered through the branches, painting the street in warm, lazy hues.
And then—
“Elena!”
I stopped dead.
The voice was unfamiliar. But friendly. Playful. And vaguely... musical?
I turned slowly, already frowning.
There, standing by the edge of the sidewalk like he was modeling for a fall catalog, was a man I had only met two days ago.
Auburn hair, swept half-back, half-falling onto his forehead with the kind of effortless messiness that took hours to perfect. A beige Oxford sweater hugged his lean frame. He wore tailored slacks and loafers like he’d just stepped out of a photoshoot for GQ’s academic issue. Sunglasses pushed up his nose, despite the fact that the sun was already slipping behind the skyline.
My jaw dropped.
“Malakai?” I breathed.