Page 113 of Captive Ruin

“That’s what you said earlier.”

“Right. Technically, there was no conflict until I killed Serranto and two of their boyeviki—their soldiers. So the fault is mine.”

Yet he did that because of me. So it’s not on him, after all. It’s absolutely on me.

“So now there’s a conflict?” I ask, voice small, my anger fading as quickly as it came, leaving only guilt and fear.

“Yes, now there is.” He pauses. “They may also be aware of your sister, even though they haven’t yet acted.”

My pulse thuds in my ears. “You said she was safe!”

“She will be, yes.”

“Will be?” I echo, my voice rising in alarm. “What the hell does that mean?”

“I’ve… made arrangements to ensure her safety. And yours.”

There’s something in his tone, and the way he’s looking at me. I know whatever he’s done will come at a price. Who is paying it? Him? Me?

“What arrangements?” I breathe, not wanting to know.

“I told you how the Volkovs treat women.”

“Like dirt,” I say bitterly. I saw that from the men in my apartment in the few seconds they were alive. Their deaths don’t trouble me in the slightest.

His voice falls flat. “They have no compunction targeting you to get to me.”

I swallow hard. “So the bodyguards are actually bodyguards, not merely jailers.” Is that my safety? Tony and Jorge between me and the Bratva? It doesn’t feel particularly safe. Is anything enough against something like this?

“Indeed. However, family comes under different rules. Family is protected.”

“Family?” I don’t miss that he uses the word twice. I grip my arms until my knuckles whiten, watching him as a horrible suspicion forms.

“It’s something of an honor system,” he continues. “If they know you’re linked to me, they won’t touch you, or by association, your sister.”

“What do you mean linked?”

“We’re getting married,” he says.

I laugh, a hysterical note to it. It has to be a joke.

But he’s not smiling, just sitting there watching me.

My laughter fades. “Are you serious?”

“Never more so.”

I can’t believe this. “You’re proposing to me while you’re sitting there, bleeding on the bed?”

“Technically, I didn’t propose to you,” he says, voice emotionless. “I’m informing you. It’s going to happen.”

I hold up a hand, trying desperately to get a grip on the moment. But how can I get a grip on something as outlandish as this? “You’re saying the only way to protect my sister and me is if I marry you.”

“It protects me, too,” he says. “This way, you can’t be used against me.”

“That almost implies you care.”

“Of course I care, Little Stray,” he says softly.