Page 114 of Cruel Submission

Translation: we end this. Permanently.

I nod once. “Ya soglasen bratok. Glad we’re on the same page.”

Something eases in Yanis’s posture. We both know what comes next. Unity. A united front against the man who created us and spent decades trying to break what we became.

My phone vibrates against the mahogany desk. The calendar reminder I set this morning. Fifteen minutes until the wedding planner arrives.

“I have to go,” I say. “Meet with the wedding planner in my office to arrange our ceremony. I refuse to put our lives on hold because of that pizda.”

Yanis’s eyebrows rise a fraction. “You’re still moving forward with the wedding? Now?”

“Especially now.” I straighten, roll tension from my shoulders. “Gavriil wants to terrorize us into submission. Wants us cowering in bunkers instead of living. Fuck that. I’m marrying Mirabel. On my timeline. Not his.”

The first genuine warmth I’ve seen from Yanis in days crosses his face. “Where are you planning to have the wedding?”

“On a private island resort where I can control all security aspects while giving Mirabel the dream wedding she deserves.”

“An island.” He processes this, running the same scenarios I’ve already gone over a dozen times. “Smart. Limits access points. Easy to monitor incoming traffic.”

“Three hundred acres off the coast. Single causeway that can be closed and secured in under two minutes. Helipad for emergency evac. Private airstrip for controlled arrivals.” I tick off the features. “Stefan’s team has already swept it twice. Clean. And far enough from here that Gavriil can’t mobilize fast enough to cause problems without us having advance warning.”

“How many guests?”

“Fifty, maybe less. Tight list. Background checks on everyone, down to their childhood dentist. Mirabel’s father, obviously. Debra, if Dr. Harrison clears her for travel. The core team—Stefan, Volodya, Sasha, the twins. A few of Mirabel’s friends from the registry.” I shrug. “Not a spectacle. Just us. The people who matter.”

Yanis absorbs this. “Debra would like that. Might be good for her—seeing Mirabel happy. Safe. Proof that good things can happen even in our world.”

“Then make sure Harrison signs off on it.” I check the time again. Ten minutes. “I want both sisters there. Mirabel deserves that.”

“Da. I’ll talk to Harrison today.” Yanis reaches for his jacket draped over my desk chair, shrugs into it, adjusts the sleeves. “What about the old man? You have a timeline for handling him?”

Handling. Such a clean word for murder.

“Working on it. Stefan’s tracking his movements. He’s gone to ground since the gate. Regrouping. But he’ll surface. Stupid fucker can’t stay hidden long. Too much ego.”

“And when he does?”

I meet my brother’s eyes. Hold them. “This time, I don’t hesitate. This time, I pull the trigger.”

Yanis returns my stare. Then he nods, sharp and final. “Da pomozhet vam Bog. God help you. Because if you don’t, I will.”

No judgment. No moral hand-wringing. Just acceptance that we’ve already crossed the line, and the only question is how deep the other side goes.

He moves toward the door, pauses with his hand on the brushed steel handle.

“Take care of Debra,” I say. “She’s family now. Whatever she needs—therapy, time, space, armed guards, a house in the countryside—it’s yours. No questions. No limits.”

Something shifts in his expression. Recognition, maybe. The understanding that we’re building something here in the ruins of what Gavriil tried to forge with violence.

“Same goes for Mirabel,” he says. “And your kids. Aleks, the baby… whoever else comes. We protect our own now. The family we chose, not the one we were born into.”

“Da.”

He leaves. The door swings shut behind him with the heavy hiss of reinforced steel settling into its frame.

I stand alone in my office, forty-two stories above a city that has no idea what’s being planned in its glass towers. In two weeks, I’ll marry Mirabel on a private island with guards in the shadows. We’ll exchange vows while my security team monitors every boat within five nautical miles, every helicopter that enters our airspace.

It’s not the wedding she probably dreamed of as a little girl.