Page 97 of The Pakhan’s Accidental Bride

I dress in jeans and a soft sweater, then head downstairs. The smell of coffee draws me toward the kitchen, but as I pass Emil's office, I hear voices.

I slow, recognizing Emil's deep rumble and Luca's measured tones. They're talking about something serious, their voices low and intense.

Without announcing myself, I walk closer and stand in the doorway. Neither of them notices me at first. Emil is sitting behind his desk, his injured arm resting on the armrest. He's wearing a dark gray shirt, and the bandage is visible beneath the sleeve. Luca stands across from him, a tablet in his hands.

"We need to narrow down the list," Emil is saying. "Start with anyone who's made threats in the last six months."

"That's still a long list, Pakhan." Luca swipes through something on the tablet. "Dmitri Volkov is at the top. He's been vocal about his grievances since you took over the shipping contracts."

"Volkov is all talk. He doesn't have the resources for something like this."

"What about Sergei Kozlov? He lost a significant amount of money when you shut down his gambling operation."

Emil leans back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. "Kozlov is a possibility. But he's more likely to come at me directly, not through Kiera."

"Then there's Viktor Petrov. He's been trying to expand into your territory for months. Taking out your fiancée would destabilize you, make you vulnerable."

"Petrov is smart enough to know that killing Kiera would start a war he can't win."

Luca scrolls through more names. "Alexei Sokolov. He blames you for his brother's death."

"His brother was skimming from the family. He knew the consequences."

"Doesn't mean Alexei sees it that way."

They continue listing names, each one accompanied by a grievance. Some are trivial, petty disputes over territory or money. Others are serious, blood feuds that go back years.

I listen, my stomach sinking with each name. There are so many. Too many.

How will they ever figure out who's behind the shootings with a list this long?

I must make a sound because both men look up suddenly, their eyes landing on me. Emil's expression doesn't change, but Luca straightens, closing the tablet.

"Kiera," Emil says. "I didn't hear you come in."

"I was just…" I gesture vaguely toward the kitchen. "Getting breakfast."

He studies me for a moment, and I wonder what he sees. Exhaustion? The fear of losing him?

"We're almost done here," he says.

I nod, but I don't move. I can't. My legs feel weak, and I lean against the doorframe for support.

So many names. So many people who want to hurt him through me.

"Are you okay?" Emil asks, his voice softer now.

"I'm fine," I lie.

He doesn't look convinced, but he doesn't push. "Go have breakfast. I'll join you in a few minutes."

I force myself to move and walk away from the office and down the hall. But the conversation stays with me, the names and grievances echoing in my mind.

In the kitchen, I pour myself a cup of coffee and sit at the table, but I don't drink it. I just stare at the dark liquid, my thoughts spinning.

This is my life now. Danger and violence and a list of enemies so long, it seems impossible to track them all.

I don't know how long I sit there before I hear footsteps. I look up to see one of the staff members approaching.