“Oh, relax,” Lena replies, waving a hand dismissively as she drops into the leather chair angled across from my desk. She folds her arms over her chest, her posture loose, expression amused in a way that sets my teeth on edge. “I’m not here to scold you. Well…” she adds after a beat, lips curving, “not entirely.”
I flip open the folder she brought, skimming the front page without actually processing the words. It’s habit more than interest. Nothing here matters more than the problem sitting a few feet away from me wearing heels and a knowing smile.
“Then leave,” I say.
She ignores me completely.
Instead, she rises again and comes around the desk, perching herself on its edge like she used to when we were teenagers and she wanted my attention at all costs. Her hand comes down sharply over the open file, palm flattening against the paper, stopping my movement mid-page and forcing my gaze up.
“You slept with her,” Lena says lightly. “Didn’t you?”
It isn’t phrased like a question. There’s no curiosity in it, no uncertainty. Just certainty delivered with a casual cruelty that only siblings can manage.
My jaw tightens. “No.”
She smirks immediately, slow and satisfied. “Don’t you dare lie to me,malysh. Half the house has been talking about it since sunrise. You’re many things, but subtle has never been one of them.”
“Get out,” I snap.
“No,” she replies simply.
She doesn’t raise her voice. She doesn’t need to. Lena has always understood that power doesn’t come from volume. It comes from pressure. She leans back slightly on her hands, studying me the way she always does when she’s trying to decide how hard to push.
She continues, tone shifting just enough to shed its teasing edge. “You know what this means. You didn’t just cross a line. You erased it.”
I say nothing.
She’s right and she knows it.
Her gaze sharpens. “You brought her here as leverage. To use as collateral. Whatever story you told yourself to justify it. And now? You’ve complicated it beyond repair.”
“I don’t need this from you,” I mutter.
“Yes, you do,” she counters immediately. There’s no room for me to deflect or dismiss it. “Unlike everyone else in this house, I won’t pretend not to see what’s happening. And unlike you, I don’t confuse ignorance and denial.”
She slides off the desk in one smooth motion and begins to circle the room, heels clicking softly against the floor. Each step is measured, pacing out the boundaries of a battlefield. I track her without meaning to, my jaw tightening as she moves.
“You slept with a woman whose mother you killed. Whose father sold her to you like property. A woman the Iron Pact will absolutely destroy the second they suspect she’s anything more than a pawn.”
She stops directly in front of me then, close enough that I can see the faint crease between her brows. Her gaze holds mine, unwavering.
“You just handed Nikolai Malyshko the sharpest knife he could ever want.”
Silence stretches between us.
For a moment, I almost give in to it, almost let the weight of her disappointment force an apology out of me. It tickles the back of my throat, foreign and unwanted. My lips part slightly as I exhale, the sound shallow.
Finally, Lena exhales and straightens, shaking her head slowly as if she’s not surprised by this outcome in the slightest. The sharpness drains from her posture, from her voice, leaving behind something that feels almost weary. “I’m not here to stop you. I know better than that. I’m here to make sure you understand what you’re getting yourself into.”
“I know,” I reply just as quietly.
It is the truth, or at least the version of truth I am willing to admit out loud. I know the risks. I know the cost. I know the way this ends more often than not for men like me. Knowing, however, has never been the same as being prepared.
She studies me for a moment longer, her gaze lingering in a way that feels uncomfortably intimate, as if she’s memorizing me. As if she’s already accounting for the possibility that this might be the last time she sees me breathing and unbroken. Then she turns and heads for the door.
“I mean it, Sasha,” she says without looking back. “Figure this out quickly.”
Her hand pauses on the handle. When she speaks again, her voice carries just as much weight without her even having to face me.
