Today, I finally put something clean on because I had to. Konstantin called a meeting, and my presence is mandatory.
When I walk into his study, they’re already there. Konstantin nods in greeting, seated behind his desk. Anton stands by the window like a hollow ghost, while Kirill is sprawled across the couch, foot bouncing.
Kirill looks up and mutters, “You look like shit.”
I grunt and drop into a chair.
“Worse than shit, actually,” he continues.
“Leave him,” Konstantin cuts in. “We have bigger problems.” He opens the folder on the desk. “We need to arrange a sit-downwith the Italians and create an alliance. A marriage arrangement between us and them. It is the best avenue for lasting peace.”
“No.”
They all turn to me.
“Not after what that family did. They should be thanking us for not torching every last one of them.”
Konstantin’s eyes narrow. “We will handle that, Aleksei, but there is a bigger picture here.”
“I don’t give a shit about that.” My hands fist against my thighs, the fury shaking loose through me. “And as far as the Volkovs, we need to kill them all, then take care of that Italian svolich before one of them tries something. I will not let that happen.”
Blood roars in my ears as I get to my feet, untamed rage simmering in my veins. “If you don’t want to start a war right now, fine. I will do it myself.”
“Aleksei,” Konstantin warns, but I keep going.
“They came into our city, threatened our blood,touched my wife.I will not let that stand.I’ll take every last one of them apart with my bare hands if I have to.”
Silence cuts through the room, then Konstantin leans forward.
“We will fight,” he says. “In one week’s time.”
I stop pacing.
“That’s why I called you all here,” he continues. “To plan it. We need to be smart. I want every Volkov dead by the end of the month. We are not just going to retaliate. We are going to erase them.”
A hard chill settles in my chest. “That’s not soon enough.”
Konstantin’s mouth twitches. “Maybe you should go take a shower. Sleep. Eat. You’ll need the strength.”
Kirill snorts. “He will not unless she’s the one feeding him.”
He’s not wrong. None of it matters without her. Not the power or the money, not if I’m doing it alone.
I settle back onto the chair and drag a hand down my face again, slower this time. “She won’t even talk to me.”
“Then you try harder,” Konstantin says.
“I need to fix this. How do I fix it?”
“You start by telling her everything,” he continues. “Even the things you think she will never forgive.”
My jaw grinds. “And if she doesn’t forgive me?”
He leans back, that faint ghost of a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Then you make her.”
Kirill lets out a sharp bark of laughter, the sound cutting through the tension. “That’s right.”
Anton, though, says nothing, just watches us from his place by the window.
