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Alarm crackles across his face as I drop down on top of his chest, trapping him against the floor. He swings his fist at my face, but I block it with my forearm. The impact vibrates through my bones, but I can barely feel it. I shove his arm to the side and slam my other fist into his jaw.
His cheek hits the floor as his head snaps to the side.
Using his moment of disorientation, I yank out a knife and drive it towards his throat.
Both of his hands fly up and grab my wrist, trying to stop me from sinking that blade into his windpipe.
Terror floods his face.
The sight of it feeds my soul and partly calms the storm that is tearing through it.
Using my free hand, I yank one of his away from my wrist. With the resistance cut in half, my knife immediately moves closer to his throat.
Fear and panic flash like lightning strikes across Anton’s face, and he thrashes wildly underneath me. But it’s no use. I’m both bigger and stronger than him.
The point of my knife touches Anton’s throat.
He immediately stops struggling. Lying there motionless underneath me, he stares up at me while his chest heaves in panic.
“I can end you right here, little Petrov,” I say, threats dripping like poison from my every word.
Anton stares up at me, but he says nothing.
It doesn’t matter. I drink in the fear that he can’t hide and savor the knowledge that I hold his entire existence in the palm of my hand.
One more inch, and he will die right here on the floor like the useless piece of trash that he is.
That terrible storm inside me urges me to do it. To kill him. To watch him bleed out and see the life fade from his eyes.
My fingers flex on the hilt of my knife.
One push. Just one push.
“STOP!”
The feminine voice cuts through the whirling cloud of rage and frustration and restlessness in my mind.
Looking up, I find Alina on her knees next to us. Her big gray eyes are wide with fear and desperation, and they’re lined with tears.
“Stop,” she says again. Her hand shakes as she reaches towards my arm. “Please, stop.”
I look back down at Anton. He just continues holding my gaze, and he still hasn’t begged for his life, which I have to admit buys him a measure of respect.
Alina’s hand appears on my forearm. It’s so small compared to mine, and yet it makes more of an impact than mine ever could.
Clarity floods my system again.
It’s immediately followed by panic and rage.
I almost killed Anton Petrov. The war between our families doesn’t exactly have any rules, but if I killed one of them, I would’ve launched us all into a blood feud. Break them? Sure. But kill them? That’s off the table. And I know that. I have always known that. So why did I almost cross that line now?
“Please, Kaden,” Alina says.
I slide my gaze to her again, and then abruptly push to my feet.
On the floor, Anton drags in a deep breath and then scrambles to his feet as well. Alina does too.
“Go wait in the kitchen,” she says, and shoots Anton a commanding look.
