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Viktor stands and stares at me head on, squaring his shoulders like he’s ready for the fight I want to give him, but he doesn’t know there’s no way back when you fight me.
“Like to see me try? Really?” His nostrils flare. “Well I already am trying.”
“She’s mine and you’re not getting her back.” I move forward and Anastasia shoots up to step in front of him.
“Who the fuck do you think you are? Do you seriously believe I’m scared of you? I’m Viktor Volkova!” He sounds like a lion staking his claim to the pack.
“I’m Desmier Volkova and I don’t give a fuck who you are. I will fuck you up from here to Valhalla.”
“Think I’m actually scared of you? Or that fucking rune makes you a god?”
“How about we test how much of a god my rune makes me.” The fucking asshole really doesn’t know who he’s talking to.
“Desmier, please.” Anastasia’s eyes plead with me to calm myself, but I’m not backing down. “Please don’t make this worse.”
“Stay out of this.” I look away from her because she still wears that expression that tells me she loves him.
God, would I love to tell her about the vineyard and taint her perfect vision of him. I’m only fucking holding back because I still need to keep that secret, but also because it feels like grabbing for scraps in shit when you have nothing left and know your opponent has one over on you.
Regardless of what I think or what Viktor stood to gain from marrying Anastasia, he was telling the truth—he does love her.
I could tell. She could too.
Anastasia steps closer. “Desmier—”
“You heard me.”
“Why are you stopping her? She deserves to fight for what she wants too.” Viktor seethes with blazing eyes. “What kind of man steals a woman seconds before she’s about to take her wedding vows?”
“This one.” I’m not about to sugarcoat who or what I am just because he’s trying to make me look bad. I know who I am, and I’ve never pretended to be anyone else. “This entitled motherfucker who wouldn’t hesitate to kill you.”
“You’re seriously threatening me?” Viktor rushes me and makes the mistake of shoving me in my chest.
I’m like an unmovable wall of steel, so he doesn’t even move a hair on my head. But that little mistake fucking does it. I land a fist in his face that would have taken him out if he weren’t a Knight.
Anastasia screams when he stumbles back.
“Stop it! You guys are brothers,” she wails.
Neither of us wants to hear her or cares for her words because we don’t want to be brothers.
When he recoils and comes at me, I’m ready for him and glad no one is around to stop me. Gytha, who helped plan this shit, is on a call that came through when she was trying to speak to me. Ehlga is out, and the staff who can hear the commotion know to stay the fuck away.
I throw myself at him and we crash into the wall, exchanging blow after blow, pretty much equally matched.
I grab him by the throat when he digs his thumbs into my shoulders, and Anastasia screams again.
“You’re just a fucking asshole with mommy and daddy issues,” Viktor grates out, and I see red. A wall of red fire covers my eyes and I’m like a rampant bull in an arena.
“What the fuck did you say to me?” I start, choking him, but he’s fucking resilient. He’s not backing down either.
“You heard me.” He coughs. “It’s a pity Father did such a poor job of taking out the trash.”
Trash.
In my flash of fury, I see the unforgettable image of my mother’s face staring back at me, her dying eyes still pleading with me to run and save myself. She died because my father thought she was trash. A mere loose end he was tying up, together with the bastard child he didn’t want.
His beloved son just echoed my thoughts.
