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ADRIK

“The priest survived the attack and the compound is clean,” I say. “All evidence says he was poisoned before he arrived for the ceremony. We didn’t have a breach.”

My father hums disinterestedly, offering nothing to the conversation. And I’m running out of shit to say.

I don’t sit vigil. It’s not in my nature. If someone is going to die, they’ll die whether you’re sitting on your ass in the next room over or not. Might as well make good use of your time and do something productive while you wait.

And yet here I am, sitting on my ass, waiting for my father to die.

“If I knew I would be receiving guests, I would have taken that pretty nurse up on another sponge bath,” my father says once I lapse into silence.

It’s strange to see his mind as sharp as ever, completely unchanged, even as his body rots before my eyes.

He’s lost weight since I saw him last. There are dark circles under his eyes, new lines around his mouth, and his complexion is sallow and dull. It’s like he’s being eaten alive from the inside out.

“You’ll just have to suffer with my current appearance, I’m afraid,” he adds.

“You look fine.”

He barks out a laugh. “Your lies may fool everyone else, but I’m the one who taught you to deceive. I know your tricks.”

“I’m not lying, I’m just—”

“Lying.”

I sigh. “There’s no sense hitting someone while they’re already down unless you plan to kill them.”

He smiles at me, dry lips drawing tight over his yellowing teeth. “I could go for a mercy killing right about now.”

“You look like shit,” I snap. “Like death warmed over. Is that what you want to hear?”

“I prefer harsh truths over lies. Or, better yet, silence. I don’t want to waste the time we have left being dishonest.”

“The doctor hasn’t changed your diagnosis, have they? You’re in the hospital for a fall, not cancer.”

“A fall caused by the cancer,” he corrects. Then he chuckles humorlessly. “The don of the Tasarov Bratva can’t even stand on his own two feet to take a piss. Do you think the Volandris know that?”

I wouldn’t be surprised. But that is my burden to bear. Not my father’s.

“It doesn’t matter what they know. We can handle them,” I say.

He stares at me for a long moment, studying me. Then he shakes his head. “I knew it. I don’t often gloat. Not my style. But let a dying man have his fun.”

“What fun? What are you gloating about?”

He grins. “You. And your bride.”

Emery. Her name echoes through me without anyone even having to say it.

“What about her?”

“It’s not about her,” he says. “It’s about you. The two of you. I knew she would be good for you.”

I frown. “You don’t even know her.”

“But I know you, son,” he says. “And yet here you are, pulling punches with a dying man. Telling white lies to ease my suffering. She has made you kind.” He shrugs. “Well, kinder, anyway. You still told me I look like shit. But you’ve changed enough. Just what I hoped for.”

“You hoped I would become kinder?” I snort. “Since when has kindness won a war?”

“Since when has bloodshed and violence for the sake of it led to anything but more of the same?” he counters.

I shake my head, not understanding. “You raised me to be this way.”

“I raised you with the expectation that, one day, you’d find something worth fighting for.” He smiles proudly. “And now, you have.”

I want to lie and tell him that not only does he look like shit, but he’s full of it, too.

But I can’t.

Because he isn’t wrong.

“You care for her,” he says, folding his hands across his sunken belly. “The night I came to dinner, I didn’t believe it. But now, it’s as plain as day.”

I roll my eyes. “Spare me the fucking sermon.”

“This is a good thing, my son.”

I snap my attention up to him. “I don’t remember you saying that the last time I cared about a woman.”

He blinks, unfazed. “Because Sofia was the wrong woman.”

“For fuck’s sake,” I growl, “when did you become the wise old oracle of my life? How can you possibly know this won’t go up in flames just as literally and figuratively as that did?”

“I don’t.” He shrugs. “No one can know that.”

“How helpful,” I drawl.

“But,” he continues, “you don’t need to know everything. Being a good leader isn’t about always being right—it’s about always being prepared. You are prepared, Adrik. To lead the Bratva. To be a husband. All of it. No matter what’s coming, you can handle it.”

This could be the very last thing my father ever says to me. I ought to listen. To mark it down.

But I can’t stop the refrain playing in my head.

Bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit.

Bringing Emery and Isabella into the picture is like pointing out the chink in my armor with a bright red bullseye.

If anything happens to either of them, I’m not sure I’ll be able to handle it. I’m not even certain I’ll survive it.

* * *

When I get back to the house, I head straight for Emery’s room.

Finding it empty, I walk down the hall to the gym. It’s my least favorite room in the house, so of course Emery can’t seem to stay away.

Sure enough, there she is.

She’s standing in front of a punching bag with black leggings and an emerald green sports bra on. Her hair is twisted back into Viking braids, and she’s bouncing on the balls of her feet, making all the soft parts of her bounce along with it.

“I thought I burned through all your energy last night.” My voice echoes off the wooden floors.

She jumps in surprise and turns around. As soon as she sees me, her forehead creases in concern. “Are you okay?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

She tugs off her gloves and drops them on the mat. “I heard about your dad.”

I grit my teeth. Fucking Stefan. Son of a bitch can’t keep a secret to save his life.

“Cancer isn’t contagious, thankfully.”

She glares at me. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“I’m fine. Peachy. Don’t worry about me.”

“Every day, you find new ways to become even more irritating.”

“The feeling is mutual, kiska,” I snarl. I step towards her and soften my tone as I add, “Pity that our honeymoon period seems to have ended so soon. Second day married and we’re already fighting.”

She crosses her arms over her chest, pushing her breasts even higher. What I wouldn’t give to peel her out of those clothes right now. To drag her to the mats and fuck her in front of the mirrors so she can see just how beautiful is when she falls apart all around me.

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