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My father’s eyes flash dangerously as they shift from Mishka to Viktor and back again, silently demanding an explanation.
“But not to worry, Otets. We’ve already gotten some valuable information from the survivors,” my brother continues glibly. “For example, it would appear we’ve had a traitor in our midst. For several months now.”
Shit. This is not good.
My heart skips several beats as I look between my father and brother, then to Mishka. Mishka looks so calm, resigned even, as he kneels before them, and that’s what terrifies me most.
“Apparently, Orlov here used to be one of them,” Viktor says, his voice theatrical, bordering on maniacal. “Of course, he failed to mention that at any point while we were getting to know him. Didn’t he? But his friends were more than willing to oust him once they started talking. The way I see it, he could easily be a spy pretending to have switched sides. They knew we were coming tonight, after all. We lost a lot of good men. So, who’s to say he wasn’t the one who alerted them to our arrival?”
Viktor takes the opportunity to bury the toe of his boot in Mishka’s stomach, and Mishka grunts, doubling over as the air leaves his lungs. My heart throbs, the horror making me want to vomit at the terrible scene.
What am I supposed to do now? I never imagined my father would find out. I thought the secret would die with me. And yet here we are, Mishka’s life on the line and me once more faced with protecting him at the expense of my loyalty to my family.
Fury twists my father’s features into a snarl as he studies Mishka with new eyes. Panic rises in my throat as I realize this is far worse than my father finding out that Mishka and I are having a child together.
I can see it in his deadly gaze.
He’s going to kill Mishka. Right here. Right now.
He’s not even going to give him a chance to explain.
Heart breaking into a sprint, it sends me flying down the stairs, my feet barely touching the ground as I race to save Mishka’s life. Desperate to reach the man I love before it’s too late, I shove my way through the mass of men. And without a second thought, I fling my body in front of Mishka’s, covering him as I put myself between him and my father’s gun.
“Papachka, no, please!” I scream, curling myself protectively around Mishka’s head and shoulders. Cringing, I brace for impact as I realize how reckless my choice might have been.
But no gunshot follows. Mishka’s heavy breaths match mine as his forehead rests against my shoulder.
“Alina, get out of the way,” my father growls.
“No, please, you can’t kill him,” I beg, turning my head to look at my father without moving the shield my body provides.
“I know you’ve grown fond of the boy, solntse. And I haven’t forgotten what he’s done for this family—you in particular. But he’s a traitor, and he will see no mercy from me.”
“Please, Papachka, just listen?—”
“No, Alina! I won’t let you get involved. You have a tender heart, and that’s exactly why you have no business dabbling in men’s affairs. Go back to bed this instant.”
“I won’t,” I state defiantly. “Not until you’ve heard what I have to say.”
“Alina,” Mishka breathes, the concern in his quiet plea agonizing.
I know what he’s asking of me with the soft caress of my name alone. He doesn’t want me to stand between him and my father. Not when a gun is involved. Even now, he’s trying to keep me safe. But I won’t just stand by and watch him die. I can’t.
“Alina,” my father scolds more forcefully, “this is unbecoming of a young woman. Go upstairs now before I make you.”
“I don’t care. I won’t go,” I say, tipping my chin defiantly.
My father’s eyes narrow, and I can feel Viktor glaring at me from off to my left.
“You do understand he’s cost us good men, don’t you?” my father says. “That he was likely planning to destroy us from within? Are you so desperate to save a man who knows so little about loyalty?”
Taking a deep, fortifying breath, I pray that Katie’s theory is right. And slowly, I straighten to face my father, squaring my shoulders. “Mishka knows more about loyalty than you could ever dream. He’s given up everything for me, and I’ll gladly stand beside him. If you intend to kill him, you’ll have to kill me first.”
“Alina,” Mishka begs, his voice tormented.
But I refuse to look behind me. Instead, I glare defiantly into my father’s face.
“Why?” my father growls, his hand tightening around the grip of his gun.
