My jaw tightens. “No.”
“Yes,” he says calmly. “He will marry Irina. The families will be tied again. The alliance secured.”
I shake my head, already feeling the anger twist into something sharp. “He doesn’t want to marry her.”
“He will,” my father says. “If you tell him to.”
“I’m not ruining my brother’s life so you can clean up the disaster you caused.”
Vladimir’s expression doesn’t change, but something shifts in the way he exhales. “You want to keep your world intact? This is the solution.”
I run a hand down my face, feeling the weight of everything hit at once—the morning, Kira, Lucas, Boris, the gun at her head, the way my father stood there and watched it all like it was nothing, and now this.
I inhale slowly. “I’ll think about it.”
He nods once, accepting the temporary compromise. “Good.”
I don’t wait for anything else. I leave, shutting the door a little too hard, and walk down the hall with the tension still burning in every muscle. I’m already trying to figure out how to tell Mikhail, how to protect him from being forced into something that will eat him alive, when Calina’s voice echoes from upstairs.
I take the stairs two at a time.
When I walk in, Kira is sitting on the edge of the bed, Milana beside her, Calina leaning against the dresser with her arms crossed and her eyes somewhere between concerned and furious. They all look up when I enter, and Milana stands first.
“We’ll give you two a minute,” she says gently, squeezing Kira’s shoulder before stepping out. Calina follows, brushing my arm lightly as she passes.
Then it’s just us.
Kira looks up at me with eyes still swollen from the morning and from everything she had to say to her brother. She tries to straighten her posture like she doesn’t want me to worry, but the tremble in her hands gives her away.
I sit beside her, close enough that our knees touch, and I take her hand first because I need the contact as much as she does.
“You okay?” I ask quietly.
She nods slowly, but her throat works once. “I think so.”
I lift her chin gently, forcing her to meet my eyes. “You did the right thing.”
Her breath shudders. “It didn’t feel like it.”
“It will,” I say, brushing my thumb along her jaw.
“Thank you for not doubting me,” she whispers and her eyes meet mine.
“Not even for a second,” I kiss her forehead and she leans into my hand, eyes closing for a moment, and I feel the tightness in her spine loosen just enough that she exhales fully. When she opens her eyes again, I can see the fear still there, but also something steadier—trust, maybe, or the beginning of it.
I take a breath. “There’s something else.”
Her brow furrows. “What?”
“My father wants Mikhail to marry Irina. To fix the alliance.”
Her eyes widen slightly. “Does Mikhail know?”
“No.”
Her thumb brushes over my knuckles, slow and warm. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “He doesn’t want her. They don’t even get along.”
