Iwatch Alina's face as the news broadcast plays, studying every micro-expression, every flicker of emotion that crosses her features. Her green eyes are fixed on the screen, on her father's tearful performance, and I see the exact moment doubt creeps in. Her jaw tightens, a muscle jumping beneath the pale skin. Her hands curl into fists on the table.
Good. She's smart enough to question the narrative.
Viktor Popov is a master manipulator. I've known that for years. But watching him play the grieving father, the desperate man begging for his daughter's safe return, is almost impressive in its audacity. Almost. The tears are real enough, but I know Viktor. Those tears aren't for Alina. They're for his ruined plans, his lost alliance, and his damaged reputation.
When the video ends, silence fills the room. Alina stares at the blank screen, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. I give her a moment to process, to think. Then I ask the question that needs asking.
"Did you know?" My voice is calm, controlled. "Were you in on the hit with your father?"
Her head snaps toward me, and the genuine shock on her face tells me everything I need to know. Her eyes widen, her mouth falling open in disbelief.
"What?" The word comes out strangled. "You think I... that I would..."
"Answer the question, Alina."
"No!" She stands abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. "No, I didn't know. I didn't know about any of it. How could you even think that?"
The anger in her voice, the outrage, the hurt, it's all real. She's not that good an actress. Relief floods through me, though I don't let it show on my face. I needed to be certain, needed to eliminate that possibility before moving forward.
"I had to ask." I lean back in my chair, studying her. Even disheveled and exhausted, wearing borrowed clothes with her red hair wild around her face, she's beautiful. Dangerously so. "Your father is claiming I orchestrated the church attack. That I murdered Sergei to steal his bride. That I'm holding you prisoner."
"Aren't you?" She crosses her arms over her chest, defensive. "Holding me prisoner?"
"For your protection."
"That's what you keep saying." She laughs, but there's no humor in it.
I stand slowly, moving around the desk toward her. She takes a step back, maintaining distance between us, and I stop. I don't want to crowd her, don't want to make her feel trapped. Not for this conversation.
"I showed you the security footage," I remind her. "You saw the attack. You saw my men die. You saw Sergei fall."
"I saw chaos." Her voice quavers slightly. "I saw people dying."
"Your father's accusation has put us both in an impossible position," I say, choosing my words carefully. "If I return you to him, I look weak. Like I can be pressured and manipulated. The other families will see that as vulnerability, and they'll move against me."
"So, keep me here out of pride?" She shakes her head. "That's insane."
"If I keep you here without explanation, I look guilty of exactly what Viktor is claiming." I move to the window, looking out at the darkened grounds. "The other Bratva families are already choosing sides. Some believe your father's story. Others are waiting to see how I respond. A war is brewing, Alina. One that will consume this entire city if we don't stop it."
I hear her move behind me, her footsteps soft on the carpet. When I glance back, she's closer, her arms still wrapped around herself like armor.
"What does any of that have to do with me?" she asks quietly.
"Everything." I turn to face her fully. "You're the key to all of this. The alliance your marriage to Sergei was supposed to create. The legitimacy it would have brought to both our families. That's all gone now, and the power vacuum it's created is dangerous."
"Sergei is dead." Her voice catches on his name. "There is no alliance."
"There could be." I take a breath, preparing to lay out the plan that's been forming in my mind since I pulled her from that burning church. "There's a third option. One that solves multiple problems at once."
She watches me warily, those green eyes sharp and assessing. "What option?"
"We get married." The words come out blunt, direct. There's no point in dancing around it. "Immediately."
For a moment, she just stares at me. Then she laughs, a harsh sound that has nothing to do with amusement.
"You're insane." She backs away, shaking her head. "You're actually insane."
"I've never been more serious." I follow her, matching her steps. "Think about it, Alina. Your marriage to Sergei was meant to unite our families. If you marry me instead, that alliance is still intact. Stronger, even, because I'm the Pakhan. The head of the family."
