He embraces me, and I breathe in the familiar scent of his cologne. For a moment, I'm a little girl again, safe in my father's arms. But then his hands grip my upper arms, squeezing too tightly, and the illusion shatters.
"Are you hurt?" he asks, his voice loud enough for everyone to hear. "Has he harmed you in any way?"
"I'm fine, Papa." The endearment feels strange on my tongue now. "I'm not hurt."
He pulls back, his hands still gripping my arms, and studies my face with an intensity that feels invasive. "You're certain? You can tell me the truth, Alina. You're safe now. I'm here."
But I don't feel safe. I feel like I'm being examined, evaluated. His questions sound rehearsed, like lines from a script he's memorized. And his eyes keep darting to Dimitri, who stands a few feet away, watching silently.
"I'm certain," I say, gently trying to extract myself from his grip. "Really, Papa. I'm fine."
His hands tighten for a moment before he releases me. "Thank God. When I couldn't find you at the church..." His voice breaks convincingly. "I thought I'd lost you."
The memory of Sergei sends a chill through me. I remember watching him fall, the blood spreading across his white shirt. Three perfect circles over his heart.
"It was terrible," I whisper. "So many people died."
"Yes." My father's expression hardens. "So many innocent people, murdered in a house of God." His gaze shifts to Dimitri, and the accusation is clear even though he doesn't voice it.
I feel Dimitri tense beside me, but he doesn't respond to the implied challenge. He's letting me handle this, I realize, giving me the space to make my own choices.
"Dimitri saved my life," I hear myself say. The words surprise me, but they're true. "He pulled me out of the church when I was frozen. If he hadn't, I'd be dead."
My father's jaw tightens, and for just a moment, his mask slips. I see anger flash across his face. Not relief that I'm alive. Not gratitude toward Dimitri. Just pure, cold anger.
Then the mask is back in place, and he's smiling at me with paternal warmth. "Of course. I'm grateful to Dimitri for protecting you in that moment of chaos." He turns to Dimitri, inclining his head. "Thank you for keeping my daughter safe."
Dimitri's response is cool and measured. "She's under my protection now. No harm will come to her while she's in my care."
Something passes between the two men, some unspoken challenge or threat that I don't fully understand. The air in the foyer feels thick with tension, and I'm aware of all the armed men surrounding us, fingers near triggers, waiting for an excuse.
"Well." My father turns back to me, his smile still in place. "Now that I've seen you're safe, we should go. Your mother is beside herself with worry. And Katya has been asking for you constantly."
Katya. My little sister. The thought of her makes my chest ache. Is she really okay? Did she make it out of the church safely?
"Is Katya alright?" I ask urgently. "And Mama? They weren't hurt?"
"They're fine. Shaken, but fine. They'll be so relieved to see you." He extends his hand toward me. "Come, Alina. Let's go home."
I look at his outstretched hand, and something inside me rebels. Home. The word should bring comfort, but instead, it fills me with dread. Because going home means going back to being a pawn in my father's games. Going back to being property to be traded for alliances and power.
"I'm staying here," I say quietly.
The words hang in the air like a grenade with the pin pulled.
My father's expression doesn't change, but his eyes go flat and cold. "What did you say?"
"I'm staying here. Willingly." I force myself to meet his gaze. "Dimitri has offered me his protection, and I've accepted."
"Protection." My father spits the word like a curse. "Is that what he's calling it? Alina, this man kidnapped you from your own wedding. He's holding you prisoner."
"No." I shake my head. "He's not. I'm choosing to stay."
I don't mention the marriage proposal. Don't tell my father that Dimitri wants to marry me, that he's offered me a position of power and safety in exchange for becoming his wife. Some instinct tells me to keep that information close, that revealing it now would be dangerous.
But I'm torn. Because this is my chance. My father is here with armed men. If I wanted to leave, if I wanted to escape this forced marriage to Dimitri, this is my opportunity. All I have to do is say the word, and my father will take me away from here.
So why can't I say it?
