“What would you know about war?” she spits. “You are a child.”
A smile pulls at my mouth. “A child you want something from, hm?”
“Align with my family. Marry my granddaughter. Unite our families. That is what I want. What we can both benefit from.” “I’m already promised,” I tell her, almost casually, like it’s nothing, like it doesn’t change everything. “Signed in blood. This month.”
That gets her attention.
“I don’t have time for alliances built on desperation and nostalgia,” I add, straightening again. “And I certainly don’t have time for women who overreach their hand. I am promised to the last female of the Russian throne.”
“Who?” she snaps, something cracking through her composure. “There is no royalty left.”
“And you saidIdidn’t understand the game,” I murmur.
Niko moves then, his foot slamming into her back hard enough to send her forward, her hands hitting the floor as she catches herself, his voice cutting through the room with sharp authority.
“You will not disrespect me,” she says coldly. “Tell me.”
“The last female of the Romanov bloodline.” I say.
Silence follows.
Niko smiles.
I don’t.
Because I already know what that means.
For me.
For what comes next.
For the price that’s already been paid.
Galina moves.
Her hand slipping toward her boot.
Her weight shifting.
Her intent clear.
We’re already ahead of her.
My gun is in my hand before she clears the leather, safety off, finger steady on the trigger, Niko mirroring me without even needing to look.
“I am a Draganov,” she snarls, dragging the weapon free. “We fight. We bleed—”
We fire.
Together.
Two shots.
Her body drops before the echo has time to settle.
“And you die,” I finish quietly.
There’s no pause.
