Rage burns through my veins like acid, but I force it down, force myself to stay calm, to think strategically. This is what he wants. He wants me to lose control, to react emotionally. To prove that I've grown weak.
I feel Alina go rigid beside me. Her trembling has stopped, replaced by something else. Something harder.
"No," I say, my voice flat and absolute.
Mikhail's eyebrows rise. "No? Just like that? You're not even going to consider it?"
"There's nothing to consider." I pull Alina closer, making my claim clear. "She's my wife. She's not part of any negotiation."
"How touching." Mikhail's smile widens. "You've really have gone soft, haven't you? The Dimitri I knew would have understood that everything has a price. Everyone can be traded."
"Then you didn't know me as well as you thought."
"Oh, I think I knew you perfectly." Mikhail takes a step closer, and I see his men tense, ready to move. "I knew you wereambitious. Ruthless. Willing to sacrifice anything for power. That's why I chose you as my successor. That's why your betrayal cut so deep."
"I was never going to be your successor." I keep my voice steady. "I was going to be your puppet. There's a difference."
Mikhail's mask slips for just a moment, and I see the rage underneath, the wounded pride. Then it's back in place, smooth and controlled.
"Last chance,Dima." His voice drops, becomes almost gentle. "Give me what I want, and this ends peacefully. Refuse, and I'll take everything from you. Your territory. Your reputation. Your life. And yes, your pretty little wife. I'll take her too, but it won't be for just one night. It will be for as long as I want. And you'll be dead, so you won't be able to stop me."
The threat is clear. Absolute. And I know he means every word.
I'm about to respond, about to tell him exactly what he can do with his demands, when Alina moves.
She steps forward, pulling away from my protective hand, and before I can stop her, before I can even process what's happening, her palm connects with Mikhail's face in a sharp, ringing slap.
The sound echoes across the courtyard like a gunshot.
Mikhail's head snaps to the side. His men raise their weapons. The world seems to freeze for a heartbeat.
Then Alina speaks, her voice steady and cold as winter ice. "I'd rather die than let you touch me."
39
ALINA
The crack of my palm against Mikhail's face echoes through the monastery courtyard like a gunshot. For one suspended moment, everything freezes. The torchlight flickers across ancient stone walls. Shadows dance. And I realize with crystal clarity that I've just made a catastrophic mistake.
The silence is absolute. Suffocating.
Mikhail's men raise their weapons in perfect synchronization, the metallic clicks of safeties being released punctuating the quiet. At least a dozen barrels point directly at me, at Dimitri, at the space between us where our bodies are still pressed together.
Dimitri's hand tightens on my arm, his fingers digging into my flesh. But he doesn't pull me back, doesn't try to shield me or apologize for my actions. He simply stands there, solid and immovable at my side, his green eyes locked on Mikhail with an intensity that makes the air crackle.
I can feel the rage radiating from Dimitri in waves. It's in the tension of his muscles, the set of his jaw, the way his freehand hovers near the weapon at his hip. But his face remains expressionless, giving nothing away.
Mikhail touches his reddening cheek, his silver hair catching the torchlight. His blue eyes are cold as winter ice as they study me. I wait for the order, for the bullets that will end this. My heart hammers against my ribs so hard I'm certain everyone can hear it.
Then Mikhail laughs.
It's not the cruel, mocking sound I expected. It's genuine. Delighted. The kind of laugh that comes from deep in the chest, full of real amusement. The sound is so unexpected, so wrong in this moment of violence and tension, that I actually flinch.
"She has fire, this one." Mikhail's Russian accent wraps around the words like silk. He's still touching his cheek, but now he's smiling. "I can see why you married her,Dima."
The use of the nickname makes Dimitri's jaw clench. I feel it in the way his body goes even more rigid beside me.
Mikhail circles us slowly, like a predator assessing prey. His expensive shoes crunch on the ancient cobblestones. "I've changed my mind about the terms."
