Page 211 of Lethal King

“I didn’t think you two were on the best of terms,” Leander admits, a subtle confusion scrunching his nose.

“That doesn’t matter,” I realize. “He raised me. He is my father.”

My shallow breaths become deeper as a wave of emotion swells over me.

It’s the truth—even if it took me this long to figure it out.

For all of Drago’s faults, he is my father.

“Very well,” Leander smirks, his confusion quickly dissolving. “Dragomir Raclaw, would you please step forward and accept this ring from me to your daughter?”

Drago hardly hesitates.

“I will.”

His voice overflows with pride, momentarily breaking in the middle.

This must mean the world to him.

I want to cry. But I do everything I can to hold back the tears as he approaches.

“Thank you,” he whispers, brushing by me; his once powerful voice reduced to a grateful murmur.

My tense heart unspools just a little.

I want to reach out and hug him. But I don’t think either of us actually know how to give a proper hug. And even if we did, this isn’t the time. We’ll have to wait until this is all over.

Fuck.

My heart tenses up again at the thought of what will happen when this is over.

The decisions I’ll have to make…

After Leander is dead, and we have his army, what will we do about Rian? What can we do? There’s no way he’d ever agree to work with Drago, a man who’s set him up twice.

But I don’t want to hurt Rian. And suddenly, I’m not so ready to discard Drago.

He’s my dad, after all.

“Give it here,” the once fearsome dragon says as he approaches Leander and the priest.

Before he can take the black box from Leander, though, the shady billionaire leans forward and grabs his wrist.

“Hey!” Tytus and I both shout out at the same time.

But we can only watch as Leander pulls Drago towards him and whispers something into his ear.

“Let him go!” I shout.

“It’s alright,” Drago soothes me. Pushing himself off Leander, he turns around and lifts the black box in his hand so Tytus and I can both see it.

“Stay here until your daughter is ready,” Leander orders. Then, with a subtle glance, I catch him gesturing to his guards. I watch with horror as they tighten their grips around their guns.

My hackles rise.

“I’m ready,” I hiss. But when I take another step forward, Leander lifts up an open palm and stops me.

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “You’re not ready. Not yet.” Turning to the bodyguard on his right, he nods.