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“Shut up!” Annika exclaimed.
“I thought maybe you could be useful to me as an asset. Perhaps I could trade you away for something more valuable,” he went on cruelly, even as his thigh wound deepened.
Clearly, he didn’t care anymore who knew the extent of his evil. He was a cornered predator, hissing and spitting, throwing final scratches before the inevitable end. If he was going to die, he was going to cause as much pain as possible with his dying breaths.
So, Mikhail reasoned, why allow him the luxury?
With everyone staring in dead silence, Mikhail took the priest’s handgun, cocked it, and strolled down the aisle to stand over Egor. Mikhail held the gun out, the cool barrel gently pressed against the old man’s temple. Even in his final moments, Egor would not go quietly.
“Annika! What’s the matter with you? Save me! Save your father!” he demanded.
“Sorry, Daddy,” she said coldly.
Annika rushed to Mikhail’s side and buried her face in his chest. Mikhail’s finger hovered on the trigger. There wasn’t a sound to be heard across the entire Sokolov Estate. With her cheek pushed into his designer suit, Annika murmured, “Do it.”
Mikhail grinned down at Egor, and before the traitorous man could utter another word, Mikhail pulled the trigger. His arm jolted back as the bullet ripped straight through Egor’s head, lodging into the grassy earth as the fallen patriarch’s blood pooled around it. Smoothly enough to almost be choreographed, Mikhail’s right-hand men fell into step. They dragged the Baranov dissenters away to a secluded corner of the Estate. As planned, these people would be forced to either swear fealty to Mikhail or meet their maker.
The remaining Baranovs and Sokolovs slowly got to their feet and brushed themselves off, looking around at each other with surprise. The ones left were the actual civilians, the actual innocents left out of the grand plot. On the Baranov side, Yulia stood gawking at her dead husband bleeding down the aisle. She looked stunned, but not especially heartbroken. One of the older Baranov men silently approached to drape his black coat over Egor’s body.
From the Sokolov side, Mama Katja came strolling forward with a big smile, seemingly unfazed by the violence that had just ensued. The woman had seen a lot in her day. She swished up to the empty altar and took the place of the priest, who had been dragged off with the other traitors. She gestured for Mikhail and Annika to come forward.
“Sit back down, everyone,” she announced brightly. “We’ve got vows to exchange.”
Perhaps because of the violence they’d just seen, everyone was eager to follow instructions, and sat down in unison. Mikhail turned to Annika, who peered up at him with wide eyes and a tentative smile. She was trembling a little, which was understandable. She had just watched her father die. But she was resolute. She was strong enough to handle it. When Mikhail took her hand, she squeezed it back, and he knew she was going to be okay.
Katja was right; they still had to finish the ceremony. That was how things worked around here. Blood tinged every step they took. Death was unavoidable, even on the most sacred of days. They stepped around Egor’s body and continued down the aisle, with no music to accompany them. Katja gave Annika a little wink as they stepped up to the altar.
“Don’t worry,” she whispered. “I got ordained last year and I’ve been dying to practice. You know, just in case we ever add a wedding chapel to the properties.”
“Go ahead,” Mikhail urged her softly.
Katja cleared her throat and announced, “Friends, family, lovers, enemies. We are all gathered here today to witness not only the joining of two factions, but the union of two incredible human beings. So far, we have seen power, violence, and control here. But there’s something much more potent in the air today: love.”
Mikhail glanced down at Annika, whose eyes were shining with tears. He was overcome with the urge to pull her into his arms. He wanted to be close to her, to brush away the tears and kiss away all her painful memories. He wanted to give her the world, and he didn’t care who he had to take it from or how hard he had to fight to get it. Annika was worth it, every second.
“Mikhail, would you like to share your vows?” Katja prompted.
He nodded and, without looking away from Annika’s deep green eyes, he began, “Annika Baranov, I vow to love and protect you as long as I live. You are my light, you are my family, and you are the center of my world. I will guard your life with my own, and cherish you every day for the rest of our lives.”
“Beautiful,” Mama Katja said. “Annika, it’s your turn.”
Mikhail gazed into his lover’s eyes. She smiled through the tears and spoke in the softest, sweetest voice he’d ever heard. “Mikhail Sokolov, I promise you my heart, body, and soul forever. I will always choose you. I will always put you first. You have my love and my loyalty from now until the end of time.
“Lovely,” said Katja. She raised her hands up and exclaimed in a joyful tone, “Well, by the power vested in me by the Internet, I now pronounce you husband and wife! Mikhail, you certainly don’t need my permission, but you may now kiss your bride!”
Mikhail swept Annika into his arms. He cradled her precious face in his large hands, leaned in, and kissed his new wife deeply. For a moment, it was like everything faded away—no wedding guests, no blood, no bodies—just the two of them wrapped together in a passionate kiss. Distantly, he heard the gentle response of the crowd, but he didn’t much care about that. All that mattered was in his arms right now.
The afternoon ceremony devolved into an evening reception inside the mansion. Outside, the Sokolov ‘cleaning crew’ took to the scene, expertly removing all specks of DNA and evidence from the lawn. The captured Baranovs were gradually released back to the party, all looking shell-shocked but much more docile now. With the former Baranov leader dead, there was no one left to rally them, no cause left to fight for. Mikhail could see them trying to blend in, chatting with people who were their sworn enemies only hours earlier, allowing themselves to be absorbed into the Sokolov fold. He knew there would be growing pains and the occasional rebel, but for the most part, the exchange of power had gone over rather smoothly, thanks to Annika’s intel. The reception was so beautiful and genuinely enjoyable, it was hard to believe they had just walked away from a gruesome battlefield. But Mikhail fully intended to eke out every drop of joy he could from this monumental day. He and Annika dealt with round after round of well-wishers, getting increasingly drunker as the night wore on. Mafia people knew how to party, and by the time the clock struck midnight, it was in full swing.
Mikhail took Annika by the hand and led her out onto the dancefloor as the live band struck up a slow, traditional Russian love song. Annika melted into him like they were one being, slowly swirling around the grand hall, almost levitating with love.
“Now you’re all mine. I won’t let anyone take you away from me,” Mikhail growled.
“My love, I have always been yours,” she told him fervently. She stood on tiptoe to kiss him, and he felt her smile against his lips. “But it’s nice to make it official.”
“I can think of another way totrulyseal the deal,” Mikhail whispered seductively in her ear. Annika shivered under his touch, but didn’t shy away.
Instead, with a gleam in her eye, she whispered back, “Then let’s get moving. I’m the wife of a Pakhan now, after all. I have to fulfill my wifely duties.”
