He sees the doubt in my eyes and squints, then says a statement so chilling, my stomach drops.
“If they catch you, they will humiliate you, defile you, and fuck every hole until you’re dead.”
“I’ll stay close,” I whisper fast, my eyes wide.
Chapter 9
Peighton
Ifollow Gustav because there is nowhere else to go.
His warning still nips in the air behind us. The notion that anyone outside his house could do worse than he can does something strange to my stomach.
He walks ahead, rifle raised, his broad body cutting a path through the icy air. The guards move like shadows around us, weapons drawn.
When we reach the castle steps, Gustav lifts a hand. The guards freeze. Another wave of them emerges from behind the stone columns, rifles trained outward. Their posture softens once they recognize him. They signal that the vile guests wait inside.
My pulse spikes.
Gustav enters the castle with the confidence of a man expecting a battle. The castle feels different. More alive.
The guards peel away and take formation along the walls as we approach the great room. Gustav pushes open the massive door.
Guards and four men wait inside.
They stand beside a fireplace, hands at their sides as if they have nothing to fear. The tallest one steps forward. He looks young, maybe Gustav’s age. Twenty-five-ish. Long brown hair, thick beard, eyes like pale ice. His suit is immaculate. His posture is too relaxed for someone trespassing.
He smiles when he sees me.
“Peighton Pacciano,” he says, the Russian accent smooth and practiced. “A California mafia princess. Wasn’t sure there was such a thing, but here she breathes.”
I lift my chin.
He smiles at my silent response.
“Shy?”
I scoff. “No.”
“Interesting. Well, I’ve been waiting to see what the Americans are producing these days.”
Gustav’s jaw flexes.
The man continues, “I am Vlad Morozov. I hold a Yellow Card. Got it last year. Expires soon, and I have one life left.”
My heart trips. One life. Which means one spouse... or victim.
Vlad gestures toward me with a slow sweep of his hand.
“I want half your territory, or her.”
Gustav steps forward so fast I flinch. His muscles flex tight. “Our territories won’t change, and she’s not available.”
“She isnotmarried,” Vlad counters calmly. “Not bound. Which means she is fair game.” His tone is smooth and cruel. “We know the wedding is planned for next week.”
Gustav says nothing, and the air thickens. My heart hammers.
Vlad’s gaze sharpens. “And since you have not wed, I can claim her. You know the rules.”
