Chapter 46
ALENA
The car pulls away with Drogo inside, and I stand in the doorway watching until it disappears around the corner.
Marcus's arm is still around my shoulders, solid and grounding, and Lucy is beside us both, still crying softly.
When the car is finally gone, Marcus gently guides us back inside and closes the door.
We return to the kitchen table in silence, our coffee cups still sitting where we left them, now cold. The morning light seems different somehow—harsher, more revealing. Everything feels raw and exposed after Drogo's confession.
Lucy is the first to break the silence. She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand and looks at Marcus with an expression I've never seen before—fierce and determined and slightly terrified all at once. "You meant it, didn't you? When you said you'd help him."
Marcus doesn't hesitate. "Yes."
"Even if it's dangerous? Even if Klaus finds out and comes after you?"
"Especially then." Marcus reaches across the table and takes her hand. "He's my brother, Luce. He did this for us. For you. I'm not letting him face this alone."
Lucy's face crumbles, and fresh tears spill down her cheeks. "I know. I know. I just—" Her voice breaks. "I can't lose you. Either of you. I can't."
"You won't," Marcus says firmly, squeezing her hand. "We're going to end this. Together. And we're all going to walk away from it."
I watch them, my heart aching with a strange mixture of fear and gratitude. Then Lucy turns to me, her eyes red but resolute. "I'm in too," she says. "Whatever you need. However we can help. I'm in."
"Lucy—" I start, but she cuts me off.
"No. He protected us, Alena. For two years he protected us while we thought he'd abandoned us. While we were angry at him. While you were—" She stops, swallows hard. "While you were breaking apart. He was out there becoming a monster so we could be safe. The least we can do is stand with him now."
Marcus nods. "She's right. Whatever it takes to get him free of Klaus, to end this—we're with you. Both of us. No matter what."
The words hit me like a physical force. They're pledging their lives—actually pledging their lives—for Drogo.
For the man who disappeared, who joined the mafia, who became something dark and dangerous to keep them safe.
And they're doing it without hesitation, without condition, with the same fierce loyalty Drogo has always shown them.
"You don't have to—" I begin, my voice shaking.
"Yes, we do," Marcus says simply. "He would do it for us. Hell, he already did do it for us. This is what family does."
There's a knock at the back door—firm and professional—and we all freeze. Marcus stands immediately, positioning himself between us and the door, his body tense and ready. "Stay here," he says quietly.
He walks to the door and opens it cautiously, and I see one of the suited guards standing there—tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair and eyes that have seen too much.
The man inclines his head respectfully. "Ma'am," he says, looking past Marcus to me.
"I'm Konstantin. Mr. Drogo asked me to check in, make sure you have everything you need. "
Oh fuck. The mafia. I'd almost forgotten about the armed guards posted around my house like I'm some kind of—what? Princess? Prisoner? Both?
Marcus steps aside, and Konstantin enters the kitchen.
He's imposing in a way that makes the space feel smaller, but there's something about his demeanour—respectful, almost gentle—that keeps me from being truly afraid.
He looks at the three of us sitting at the table, takes in Lucy's tear-stained face and Marcus's protective stance, and something shifts in his expression.
"You're planning something," he observes. It's not a question.
Marcus tenses, but I speak before he can.
"We're planning to help Drogo kill Klaus.
" The words come out steady and sure, and I'm surprised by my own certainty.
"We're ready to do whatever it takes. All of us.
" I gesture at Marcus and Lucy. "Even if it means putting our own lives on the line.
If that's what it takes to set him free. "
Konstantin is silent for a long moment, studying each of us in turn. Then, slowly, he nods. "Me too," he says quietly.
I blink. "What?"
"Me too," he repeats. "I would die for him.
For Mr. Drogo." He moves further into the kitchen and leans against the counter, his posture relaxing slightly.
"You think you're the only ones who see what he is?
What he's become? I've worked for Klaus for eighteen years.
I've seen men come and go—some weak, some cruel, most just…
empty. But Drogo?" Konstantin shakes his head.
"He's different. He's an amazing heir. Strong, smart, decisive.
But more than that—he's good. Even with all the blood on his hands, even after everything Klaus has made him do, he's still good.
He protects people. He cares. He leads with honour.
He—he even protected my family. Kept everyone in hiding. I will never be able to repay that."
Lucy's crying has stopped, and she's staring at Konstantin with wide eyes. Marcus is still tense but listening intently.
Konstantin continues, his voice low and intense.
"Every man under Drogo's command feels the same way. We follow him not because we fear him—though we do, make no mistake, the man is a… something we’ve never seen before—but because we respect him.
Because he's earned our loyalty in a way Klaus never could.
We're waiting, all of us, for Klaus to make one wrong move.
Just one. And when Drogo kills that bastard—" He pauses, meets my eyes directly.
"And he will kill him, make no mistake about that—we'll be right behind him.
Supporting him. Protecting him. Making sure he survives to claim what's rightfully his. "
The kitchen falls silent. I can hear my own heartbeat, can feel the weight of what Konstantin just said settling over all of us like a physical presence.
It's not just us. It's not just the four people who grew up together in that tiny squat, who survived on scraps and determination and love.
It's an entire network of dangerous men who have chosen Drogo, who have decided he's worth following, worth dying for.
"How many?" Marcus asks, his tactical mind already working. "How many men are loyal to Drogo?"
Konstantin considers for a moment. "Most of them.
Maybe seventy percent. The younger ones especially—they see him as the future.
Klaus is old, sick, cruel for cruelty's sake.
Drogo is young, strong, strategic. He doesn't waste violence.
Doesn't hurt people for fun. He protects his own. The men respect that."
"And the other thirty percent?" I ask.
"Klaus loyalists. Older men who've been with him for decades. They'll fight for him when the time comes." Konstantin's expression hardens. "But they're outnumbered. And they're slow. When Drogo makes his move, it will be fast and decisive. Klaus won't see it coming until it's already over."
Lucy reaches across the table and grabs my hand, squeezing tight. "So we wait," she says. "We wait for the right moment. And then we move."
Konstantin nods. "Exactly. And when that moment comes—" He looks at each of us in turn. "You need to be ready. Because this will be war. Brief, bloody, and brutal. But when it's over, Drogo will be free. And Klaus will be dead."
I think about Drogo—about the man who held me last night, who made me coffee this morning, who refused to let me do anything because he needs to take care of me. The man with eight-pointed stars on his collarbones and my name tattooed over his heart. The man who became a monster to keep me safe.
And I realize with absolute clarity that I would do anything for him. Kill for him. Die for him. Burn the entire world down if that's what it took to set him free.
"We're ready," I say, and my voice doesn't shake. "Whatever he needs. Whenever he needs it. We're ready."
Marcus and Lucy nod in unison, and Konstantin smiles—small and grim but real.
"Good," he says. "Because the time is coming soon.
I can feel it. Klaus is getting sloppy, overconfident.
He thinks he's won, thinks he's turned Drogo into his perfect weapon.
But he's wrong." Konstantin's smile widens slightly.
"Drogo isn't Klaus's weapon. He's ours. And when he strikes, we'll all be there to make sure he doesn't fall. "
He straightens up and moves toward the door.
"I should go. The other guards will wonder why I'm inside so long.
But know this—" He pauses at the threshold and looks back at us.
"You're not alone in this. None of you. Drogo has an army waiting for his signal.
And when he gives it, we'll tear Klaus apart. "
Then he's gone, the door closing quietly behind him, leaving the three of us sitting in stunned silence.
Lucy speaks first, her voice barely a whisper. "An army. He has an entire army."
"Yeah," Marcus says, and there's something like pride in his voice. "He does."
I lean back in my chair and close my eyes, feeling the weight of it all settle over me—the danger, the violence, the blood that's coming. But underneath the fear is something else. Something fierce and bright and unbreakable.
Hope.
Because Drogo isn't fighting this alone. He never was. He has us. He has his men. He has people who would die for him without hesitation.
And together, we're going to end this. We're going to kill Klaus and set Drogo free and give him back the life that was stolen from him two years ago.
"When he comes home tonight," I say, opening my eyes and looking at Marcus and Lucy, "we tell him. We tell him we're with him. All the way. No matter what."
They both nod, and Lucy wipes her eyes one more time before managing a shaky smile. "All the way," she agrees.
"To the end," Marcus adds.
I look at them—my family, my found siblings, the people who have been through hell with me and still stand strong—and I know with absolute certainty that we're going to win this.
Because love is stronger than fear. Loyalty is stronger than violence. And Drogo—our Drogo, the boy who offered me stolen flowers and grew into a man who would burn the world for me—is stronger than any monster Klaus ever tried to create.
Klaus made one crucial mistake: he thought breaking Drogo would make him controllable.
But you can't break someone who's already been broken and rebuilt themselves stronger. You can't control someone who fights not for themselves but for the people they love.
And you definitely can't win against an army of people who have chosen their leader not out of fear, but out of respect.
Klaus's days are numbered. And when the end comes, it will be swift and brutal and absolute.
Then Marcus turns to me. “Babe, don’t forget where we all came from. We are kids of the pit. Let me make some calls.”
Fuck. He is right. We are.
We grew up in a family that’s burned down from society. Forgotten, judged, and forgotten. We are called many things but fuck… we are one. I look at Marcus.
“Make the call.”
He smiles back.
“Yes, babe.” And then he dramatically bows. “How can I say no to a mafia bride?”
I can't wait.