That scares me more than I care to admit.
Panicked, I give it one last shot for my father to see sense through the madness. “Why, Papa? I didn’t do what Asher thinks I did. You know that better than anyone.”
When he leans down to press his lips to my forehead, mine quiver. “I had to make a decision, Ari.” My nickname reveals the pain in his heart. He only uses it when he sees my mother in my eyes. “This was the safest option for all involved.”
As the truth smacks into me, my lungs suck in air. This isn’t my life for his. I’ve been sacrificed for Vaughn. It doesn’t make my father’s decision any easier to swallow, but it’s nice knowing I haven’t been shunned for no reason. My mother would have never forgiven him if he sent Vaughn into battle unprepared. I’m no better trained than Vaughn, but I have something he doesn’t: femininity.
Asher’s reputation is unsurpassed. He’s feared for a reason, but even before Dominique entered his life, the degree of his callousness didn’t extend to the women and children of the men he succeeded. Their choices were minimal: they either left his monarchy with the clothes on their back or became a whore or a chambermaid under his command. It was cruel, but they still had their lives, which was more than their fathers, brothers, and sons had.
My moisture-filled eyes lift to my father’s when he asks, “Do you see, Zariah? Do you understand why I had no choice?”
Fat, salty tears plop down my cheeks when I bob my head. Although I’m devastated, my fate has been decided. Nothing I can say or do will change that, so I may as well walk into my destiny with the willpower my mother hardened my spine with before her life was cut way too short.
“I love you, Papa.”
Never one to be seen as weak in front of his men, he accepts my confirmation with a gentle squeeze of my hand. Once he’s confident I heard his wordless reply, he pivots on his heels and leaves. His goons follow closely after him.
He’s barely entered the hallway at the end of the one I’m standing in when a husky timbre draws my focus. “I won’t let you do this, Zariah. I’m not letting you take the blame for this.”
An unruly curl curtains my right eye when I shift on my feet to face Vaughn. His golden hair, green eyes, and ruggedly sharp jaw reminds me a lot of our father, it’s just the spirit in his eyes that exposes my error. He may look like our father, but his core is our mother.
The pained glint in his eyes weakens when I murmur, “Hush, Little Mouse. Just because they’ve laid out a trap, doesn’t mean I’ll get snagged. There’s enough cheese for everyone; I just need to find where they’re hiding it.”
“This isn’t child’s play, Zariah. We barely survived Asher’s wrath the first time. I don’t see us achieving the same results the second time around.”
I pace closer to him, praying my strides will cover the shakiness in my voice. “This time is different.”
He gives me a confused look, as if to say,how?
“Last time, it was us versus him.” He nods, agreeing with me. “This time, it’s us and his father versus him. We have an ally. It may not be one we want, but it’s better than the none we had.”
He peers at me as if I am foolish. He’s probably right. “You cannot trust Oleg. He’s not like our father. He’s—”
“Not a man who gifts his daughter to another?”
My snappy remark stumps him. He’s truly shocked. I can’t blame him. Up until ten minutes ago, I never thought my father would do this either. Only thirty seconds ago, I realized he doesn’t have a choice. It still hurts knowing he can wash his hands of me so quickly, but the pain is nowhere near as intense as it was when I thought he was doing it solely for him.
After weaving my fingers through Vaughn’s messy bed hair, I tug down his face until it rests in the crook of my neck. Tears reform in my eyes when I recall how long it’s been since we’ve embraced like this. Although my memories are hazy, I’m reasonably sure we haven’t since our mother passed. Perhaps even a little longer.
“No matter what happens, stay focused. This isn’t the end for me, Vaughn. It may very well be the beginning.”
Refusing to acknowledge the whispered voice in my head that I’m delusional to believe I’ll still be alive tomorrow morning, I press my lips to Vaughn’s sweaty temple before stalking down the hallway in the opposite direction our father went. My steps shake more with every one I take, but the wobblier my stride, the harder my spine becomes.
You can’t become fearless without first facing your fear. Just like you can’t embrace your fate if you’ve yet to succumb to the idea of change. My goal was never to live forever. I just had no idea my soon-to-be husband would be the one to end it.
Chapter 2
Asher
Itug my coat tighter when a bitterly cold Moscow wind blows underneath it. I’ve lived here my entire life, but it’s colder than I remember. The sleet and ice are unlike anything I experienced in Las Vegas the past six months. You’d think the stark white conditions would make the Christmas holidays more joyful, but I can’t see six feet in front of me, much less the twinkling lights on the tree children will surround on January sixth as they call forDed Morozto bring them presents, or sometimes his granddaughter,Snegurochka.
After the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991, families were free to celebrate holidays they kept hidden after they were banned in 1929, but it’s still quiet around these parts. You’ll see the occasional tree and the sprinkling of lights in office windows, but it’s nothing like the hoopla I experienced in Vegas the last week. Even the once stone-cold Popov compound wasn’t spared the wrath of naughty elves. They covered the balustrades in the main foyer with green garlands before erecting a monstrous tree in the middle of the den.
Although sickened by the amount of joy on display, I understood it. The Popov housemaids had reason to celebrate. My American counterpart, Nikolai, and his wife, Justine, welcomed twins fifteen days before Christmas. With the Popov entity not having any children under the age of two since Nikolai was a child, the whores turned housewives went all out. Toby and Mila won’t remember a thing that happened a little over a week ago, but the endless alcohol, drugs, and whores at Nikolai’s off-site compound will be reminisced about by his men for years to come.
Perhaps even by me.
I’m not a man who gets misty-eyed. I was born craving bloodshed, raised to seek rivals more than allies, and I’ve done everything in my power to instigate conflict during my past almost twenty-nine years, but I’m man enough to admit I admire the life Nikolai has created for himself. He has his crown, his queen, and his heirs.
