I clasp my hands in my lap. “About what?”
His smile is small and venom-sweet. “Your husband, of course.”
My body tenses before I can stop it.
He notices.
“You seem uneasy,” he says softly. “These things happen when one is married to someone… unpredictable.”
“He isn’t unpredictable,” I lie again.
“Then what would you call the twitching? The muttering? The new cuts on his temples?” Rupert’s fingers steeple. “Councilmen observed all of it over the last two years. Including myself.”
My pulse stutters. I force my expression blank.
“Why else would he get a Yellow Card? We have concerns,” he continues. “For you. For the wives and children in the Sokolov bratva. An unstable boss endangers everyone beneath his sigil.”
“Gustav is not a danger to them,” I say carefully. “He’d die for them. You’re misinterpreting—”
“He may have killed a rival boss,” Rupert interrupts lightly. “That is forbidden. Even with a Yellow Card. His bride should know that.”
Inside, I freeze. Outside, I stay poised like a Russian woman as I learned in etiquette class.
He watches me like a hawk studying prey.
“You can deny it. Or you can tell us the truth.”
“I am aware of the rumors,” I say coolly. “But they are simply whispers against a young king.”
For the first time, genuine irritation flashes across his face.
“You are a good wife,” he responds sharply. “I grant you that.” He studies me with mild fascination. “Yellow Card wives often provide the clearest insight to the Council. Close enough to know if a boss is fit to rule, or fit to bury.”
My stomach drops. “What are you suggesting?”
“Your cooperation,” he replies. “If Gustav is mentally unstable, you can spare yourself being dragged down with him. We would take you back to America, place you under Council protection, and end the Sokolov line. No guilt. No blood on your hands. You would be praised.”
He says it as if describing a great honor.
My throat goes dry.
“I can’t betray my husband,” I say simply.
Rupert’s mouth twitches. Not quite a smile. “A loyal wife. Admirable, but doomed.”
He shifts forward. “Let me ask you something, Peighton. What do you believe happens to you if Gustav dies?”
I blink. “I… assume I’d go home. Back to California.”
“Oh, my dear.” His laugh is soft and pitying. “No. You will never return to the Blood Masons. Once you married into the Sokolov Bratva, you ceased belonging to your father’s house.”
My heart stops.
He continues as if giving a lecture. “If Gustav is declared unfit, the Council will eliminate the Sokolov bloodline entirely. Petyr Kov, as second-in-command, will take the bratva. His wife, Keira, will take your place. And you...” His eyes glint. “Would either die with Gustav… or remarry whomever Petyr selects.”
Cold dread shoots through me.
I never once considered that I wouldn’t go home if my marriage ended in his death. Not stay in Russia or remarry.
