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Without waiting for a reply, the head of the Petrov family turns and strides towards Eric with his youngest son in tow. Mikhail shifts his position so that he is standing to my left instead, keeping his rifle aimed at my temple. God, he must love this. Having me on my knees like this. But I can’t muster enough fucks to give right now. Alina is safe. That is all that matters.
Across the room, Eric screams as Ivan plants his boot on his wounded leg and shoves down. Ivan’s harsh voice echoes through the candlelit room as he starts interrogating Eric.
I tune them out, because it is taking all of my willpower just to keep my arms raised and my hands behind my head. The muscles in my arms are screaming in protest and the wounds across my body throb, sending more blood sliding down my skin and soaking my white shirt.
But I remain where I am, on my knees with my fingers interlaced behind my head, in front of a large semi-circle of dead or wounded men.
After a while, Ivan and Anton start back towards me.
My head is swimming and it’s taking most of my self-control to keep my arms from shaking. But I keep my eyes hard as I tilt my head back and meet Ivan’s gaze again while he comes to a halt before me.
There is an unreadable expression on his face.
Then he raises his gun and presses it directly against my forehead.
“NO!” Alina screams from somewhere behind me.
I just keep holding his gaze.
He stares down at me, as if waiting for fear to flood my features. But I only feel terror when my brothers’ or Alina’s life is in danger, so the emotion that Ivan is waiting for never comes. If he wants to shoot me, then he’s going to shoot me. It’s as simple as that.
But he doesn’t pull the trigger.
Instead, he watches me as if he is trying to read answers on my face. But he finds none of those on my features either. So in the end, he jerks his chin to indicate the slaughter around us.
“You did this?” he asks.
“Yes,” I simply reply.
“Why?”
My answer is immediate. Because it’s the most natural thing in the world. The easiest decision I have ever made. The most solemn vow I will ever make.
“Because I will protect her until the day I die.”
41
ALINA
This gothic mansion hotel that we’re still occupying has probably made more money in this one day than they have in the past year. After my father finally accepted that Kaden was the one who had protected me against the attack, not instigated it, he called the head of the Hunter family since both our families were affected by this attack. And together, they bought out the hotel for the next three days, called in cleaning crews to handle the dead bodies, and the still surviving thugs too, while sending the other guests away with a not-so-subtle threat to keep their fucking mouths shut. My father had Eric shipped away on his own, for him to handle personally later.
Kaden’s father and brothers arrived within the hour. As did the doctors that his family keeps on payroll. None of his wounds were life-threatening, but they still needed stitching. I haven’t seen him since they arrived, since the Hunters retreated to one side of the hotel while we took the other. And even though I wasn’t injured, my family is still fussing over me as if I’m the one who just fought off an entire room of thugs on my own.
“I still can’t believe the fucking nerve of them!” Maksim growls, and slams his hand down on the table. “We need to retaliate. Hard and fast.”
“I agree,” Mikhail adds from where he’s leaning against the wall of the conference room that we’re currently occupying. “And the retaliation needs to be so bloody and so brutal that people will whisper about it for years to come. A warning to everyone not to cross our family.”
Dad nods, his expression hard. “We will.”
Rain beats the row of windows behind the table, filling the room with the sound of the whirling storm outside.
“God, what if they had actually managed to kill Alina?” Anton says, shaking his head in disbelief. His gray eyes soften as he turns to me. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Sitting in one of the white wooden chairs in the neatly furnished conference room, I glance down at the blue dress that I wore to dinner and still haven’t taken off. Light from the swirling metal lamps in the ceiling reflect against the silk, making the fabric shimmer. The hem of the dress is soaked with blood.
Just seeing that darker line at the edge of the skirt makes a storm of emotions whirl through me. Am I okay? No, I’m not.
Images of what happened inside that dining room flash before my eyes. Images of Kaden fighting like a demon from hell while all I could do was stand there uselessly behind him. It was the most incredible display of fighting skills I have ever seen. And I know that I would only have gotten in his way if I had tried to help. That I will always get in the way if I try to help in a fight like that. I’m not an assassin. But I’m smart. I should have seen the attack coming. I should have known that Eric wouldn’t just let me go. I should have figured out that our actions would be seen as a threat to the rich elite. Should have seen this attack coming.
