He killed his own brother.
Dimitri just stands there, weapon still raised, staring at Alexei’s body. His face is completely blank, but I can see him breaking inside and I see the cracks spreading through that controlled façade.
Without thinking, I go to him. My arms wrap around him from behind and he collapses into me—this strong, terrifying man who just executed two people without hesitation reduced to something raw and wounded in my arms.
“I had to,” he says, his voice breaking. “I had to. There wasn’t another choice. He would never have stopped.”
“I know,” I whisper against his back. “I know. You did what you had to do. You protected us. You protectedeveryone.”
His hands come up to grip my arms where they’re wrapped around his chest, holding on like I’m the only thing keeping him upright.
And maybe I am.
“Take them away,” Dad says quietly to the guards giving us this moment. “Same as before. Burn the bodies. They don’t get graves.”
People start filing out to give us privacy. My father pauses as he passes, his hand briefly touching my shoulder in a gesture of comfort and support and then he’s gone too.
Finally it’s just Dimitri and me and two blood stains on the marble floor.
He turns in my arms and buries his face in my neck, and I feel his shoulders shake. He’s not making noise (too stubborn even for that) but I can feel the grief wracking through him.
“I’ve got you,” I murmur, running my hands through his hair. “I’ve got you. It’s over. It’s done.”
“He was my brother,” he chokes out. “My baby brother. I was supposed to protect him.”
I kiss whatever skin I can find with my lips. “You protected him for years, but he made his choices. He chose power over family. He chose to betray you.” I keep one hand tangled in his hair while the other rubs down his spine. “You gave him chances,” I tell him softly. “More than he deserved and he threw them away."
Dimitri lets loose a deep, shuddering breath. “I know. I know that. But it still?—”
“Hurts,” I finish. “Of course it hurts. It’s supposed to hurt. That’s what makes you different from Konstantin and Alexei. You still feel it. You still care.”
We stand there for so long that the sun finishes setting and the hall grows dark.
Eventually Dimitri pulls back. His eyes are red but dry now and he gently cups my face with both hands.
“Thank you,” he says quietly.
I raise an eyebrow as I drape my arms around his shoulders. “For what?”
“For standing with me. For not running. For—” He stops, struggling for words. “For choosing me despite everything.”
“Always,” I promise, watching the shadows in his eyes lighten at that. “I’ll always choose you. I love you.”
He kisses me. It’s soft and desperate and full of everything we can’t say.
And slowly, carefully, we start to piece ourselves back together.
Both families officially recognized our leadership before they left. Dimitri as the undisputed head of the Volkov family and me as his equal partner and bridge to the Ashfords. Not a symbol of a treaty. Not a bargaining chip. But a real leader in my own right.
The alliance between families is real now and it’s built on truth instead of manipulation, on trust instead of fear.
We won. But victory tastes like ash when it costs this much.
In our bedroom, Dimitri is quiet, grieving in that silent way he has.
I don’t push him to talk or try to force him to process faster than he’s ready for. Instead, I just hold him, providing him the physical comfort he needs. For too long he’s been alone and not able to have anyone to shoulder his burdens and I intend to fix that.
We’re lying in bed, his head on my chest, my fingers running through his hair in slow, soothing strokes. His arm is wrapped around my waist, hand splayed across my lower back as he holds me, anchoring himself.
