“Yes,” I say. “Kaya’s sister is under my roof.Yes,I knew whose blood she carried. Andyes,I chose her anyway.”
That hits.
One of the men near the back frowns. “Then what is this? An alliance with Kaya?”
I laugh once.
“If I had allied with Kaya, we wouldn’t be hunting him.”
Another man says, more carefully, “Then what do we call it?”
“Mine.”
The word drops into the room like a body.
Demyan scoffs.
Big mistake.
I keep my eyes on him. “Kaya tried to use her. He put hands on what I had already chosen and thought blood would make that his leverage.”
My voice turns colder. “It didn’t.”
A younger soldier shifts. “With respect, Pakhan, men want to know if she came here under orders.”
I let the question breathe just long enough to make him regret asking it.
“She is loyal to me now. That is the part that concerns you.”
“Convenient,” Demyan mutters.
Pietro’s head turns sharply.
A warning Demyan ignores. “We’re supposed to pretend enemy blood in our home means nothing because you say so?”
“My word should be enough.”
“And if it isn’t?”
I cross the space between us.
Fast.
Now I’m in his face and the room belongs to me again.
“Itmeans,” I say, “you forgot who you’re speaking to.”
“No.” His chin lifts. “I rememberexactlywho I’m speaking to. That’s the fucking point.”
Ah.
He has a death wish because he fears.
Fears that I will become the man who made fathers into monsters and sons into orphans.
Fear makes him stupid.
“When one of us wanted an Armenian girl, it was no. Now you drag a Turkish woman into your bed and we’re supposed to bow our heads and call it strategy?”
