Page 100 of The Pakhan’s Unwanted Bride

"But I lived with the consequences." Alexei's composure cracks slightly, bitterness seeping through. "I watched your family prosper while mine struggled. I watched you inherit everything while I was given scraps and told to be grateful. That is why the secret society started in the first place. My line felt we were supposed to inherit the crown, so to speak. We've been systemically eliminating your Rostova branch." "

"You murdered innocent people." My father takes a step forward, his hands curling into fists. "Children. Women. People who had nothing to do with decisions made before they were born."

"I did what was necessary." Alexei's voice is cold, devoid of remorse.

"Nothing was lost." My father's voice shakes with fury. "You threw away your life for a grudge that existed only in your twisted mind."

Alexei's hand moves to his belt, drawing a long knife with a curved blade. The metal gleams in the dim light. He holds it up between them, the traditional challenge clear in the gesture.

"Then let us settle this the old way. Blood claims blood. The ancient code."

Every weapon in the room lowers immediately. Samuil's captains step back. The remaining society members do the same. Even in the middle of this chaos, even after everything that's happened, the ancient traditions hold power. Once the challenge is issued and accepted, no one interferes.

My father reaches down and draws his own knife from the sheath at his ankle. The blade is shorter than Alexei's but just as deadly. "I accept."

They circle each other slowly, two aging men carrying the weight of generations on their shoulders. This isn't just about their personal grievances. This is about ending a blood feud that has claimed dozens of lives.

The first strike comes fast. Alexei lunges forward, his blade aimed at my father's throat. Ivan dodges to the side, bringing his own knife up in a defensive arc. Metal scrapes against metal with a harsh sound that makes my teeth ache.

They separate and circle again. Both men are breathing hard. What they lack in youth, they make up for in experience and desperation. The fight intensifies. Alexei presses forward with rapid strikes, forcing my father back. Ivan blocks and parries, his movements increasingly defensive. A cut opens across his forearm, blood soaking through his sleeve. Another slash catches his shoulder, making him grunt with pain.

I can't watch this. I can't stand here and do nothing while my father bleeds. My feet move before my brain catches up. I rush forward, intending to help, to do something, anything to stop this. But strong arms wrap around my waist from behind, lifting me off my feet and pulling me back.

"Let me go!" I struggle against Samuil's hold, tears streaming down my face. "He's going to die! I have to help him!"

"No." Samuil's voice is rough in my ear, still raw from grief but absolutely firm. "This is his right. Only your father can end this."

"He's hurt!" I fight against him, but Samuil's grip doesn't loosen. "Please, Samuil, please let me help him!"

"If you interfere, you dishonor him." Samuil holds me tighter. "You take away his chance to protect you the only way he can. Let him do this, Ana. Let him be the father and the leader he needs to be."

The words cut through my panic. I stop struggling and watch through blurred vision as my father and his cousin continue their brutal dance. Ivan is bleeding from multiple wounds now, his movements slower, his breathing labored. But there's determination in his eyes.

Alexei overextends on a particularly vicious strike, putting too much weight forward. It's a small mistake, barely noticeable, but my father sees it. He's been waiting for it.

Ivan moves with speed that seems impossible for a man his age, for someone bleeding from so many wounds. He sidesteps Alexei's blade and drives his own knife forward with all his remaining strength. The blade sinks deep into his cousin's chest, piercing through cloth and flesh and bone.

Alexei's eyes go wide with shock. His knife falls from nerveless fingers, clattering against the floor. He looks down at the blade buried in his chest, then up at Ivan's face.

"It's over," my father says quietly. "The blood feud ends here."

Alexei's legs give out and he collapses to the floor. Blood pools beneath him, spreading across the hardwood in a dark stain. His breathing becomes shallow and ragged, each breath a visible struggle. Then his eyes glaze over and he goes still.

The library falls silent.

One by one, the remaining society members lower their weapons. They don't run. They don't fight. They simply stand there, acknowledging what has happened. Their leader fell in an accepted challenge, killed according to the ancient codes they claim to honor.

Samuil's arms loosen around my waist but he doesn't let go completely. I lean back against his chest, watching as my father sinks to his knees beside his cousin's body. The weight of what he's done, what he's had to do, settles over him in obvious grief.

The cycle of violence, after all these generations, has finally stopped.

52

SAMUIL

The morning sun barely breaks through the windows when I have the surviving society members brought before me. My captains line the great hall while Ana stands to my right, Ivan to my left. The prisoners kneel in a row, hands bound, all of them knowing what's coming.

"I want names of everyone in your secret society," I say, my voice carrying through the silent hall. "Every member. Every cell. Every contact."