Even if it means walking through it herself.
"I need to speak with Anya," I say coldly. "Alone."
"Now wait just a—"
"Alone." I let every ounce of the woman I've become bleed into my voice—the one who commands respect through rooms full of armed men. The broken, shattered young girl who had to grow up overnight. The one who built an empire from nothing. The woman who doesn't take no for an answer.
My father's mouth opens and closes like a fish. Then he stands, throws his napkin on the table, and storms out.
The moment the door closes, I sink into the chair beside Anya and pull her into my arms. She collapses against me, sobbing in a way that makes my heart crack.
"I'm so scared," she whispers into my shoulder. "Kira, I can't marry him. I can't. He's old and cruel and everyone says his wives—"
"Shh." I stroke her hair like I used to when she had nightmares as a child. "I know, baby. I know."
"But Papa signed the contracts. He said I have to. That it's for the family."
"Fuck the family." The words make her hiccup a shocked laugh through her tears. "And fuck Papa's contracts. You're not marrying anyone."
She pulls back to look at me, hope and disbelief warring in her eyes. "But how? If it's legally binding—"
"Because I'm going to marry him instead."
The words hang in the air between us like a death sentence.
"No." Anya shakes her head violently. "No, Kira, you can't. Roman hates you. Everyone knows he hates you. He'll—"
"He doesn't hate me." I wipe the tears from her cheeks with my thumbs. "He wants to control me. There's a difference."
"That's worse!" She grabs my hands, squeezing tight. "If you marry him, he'll take everything. He'll break you."
"He can try." I manage something that might pass for a smile. "But I'm not the girl I used to be, Anya. I'm not soft anymore. I’ve already broken once before. It will never happen again."
"You're not soft, but you're not invincible either." She's crying again. "What about you? What about your future?"
My future. The concept is almost laughable.What future? The one where I watch my little sister get destroyed by a monster? The one where I lose the only person I still love?
"My future is making sure you have one," I say simply. "That's all that matters."
"But—"
"Listen to me." I take her face in my hands, making sure she sees the truth in my eyes. "I'm going to make a deal with Papa and Roman. I'll agree to the marriage, but only if they send you to Paris. To that art school you've been dreaming about. L'École des Beaux-Arts."Her eyes go wide. "But that's—"
"Expensive. I know. And far away. Also, exactly the point." I can see the plan crystallizing in my mind. "You'll be safe there. Protected. Away from all of this."
"And you'll be stuck here, married to a man who—" She can't finish the sentence.
"Who wants my organization and my connections more than he wants to hurt me." It's not entirely true, but it's true enough. "Roman is a bastard, but he's a practical bastard. As long as I'm useful to him, I have leverage."
"Until you're not useful anymore." Anya's no fool, despite her gentle nature. "Then what? You end up like his other wives?"
The question hangs heavy between us. I don't have a good answer—or rather, I have an answer I can't share with her. That I'm planning to kill Roman before he gets the chance to kill me. That this marriage is just the first move in a longer game.
"Then I'll handle it," I say instead. "Like I've handled everything else."
Anya looks at me and I see her piecing it together—all the things I'm not saying. She's smarter than people give her credit for. Gentler, yes, but not stupid.
"You're planning something," she says quietly. "Something dangerous."
