23. Kiera
KIERA
Istare at him like he's lost his mind.
"No." The word comes out flat, final. "Absolutely not. Not after what I just saw."
Emil's expression doesn't change. He doesn't argue, doesn't try to convince me. He just looks at me with those dark brown eyes that have seen too much violence, done too much damage.
Then he nods to Luca.
"What? No. I'm not…" I start to stand, but Luca is already moving toward me, his movements careful and non-threatening.
"This way, Miss," he says quietly.
"I said no." I look at Emil, willing him to hear me, to understand. "I'm not marrying you. I can't. Not after…"
The image flashes through my mind again. Emil's fist connecting with that man's face. The blood. The cold, empty look in his eyes as he delivered punishment without hesitation or remorse.
"The sooner you come to terms with accepting the wedding," Emil says, his voice calm and measured, "the sooner you'll get some freedom."
"Freedom?" I laugh, and it sounds slightly hysterical even to my own ears. "You're forcing me to marry you and you're talking about freedom?"
He doesn't respond, just watches me with that unreadable expression.
Luca touches my elbow gently. "Please, Miss."
I want to fight, want to scream and throw things and make them understand that they can't just decide my life for me.
But what's the point? I'm surrounded by armed guards on an estate I can't escape from.
Emil has already made his decision. I'll have to think about it and find a way out of this mess later.
I let Luca guide me out of the dining room and up a sweeping staircase. My legs feel numb. We walk down a long hallway lined with expensive artwork and polished wood floors. Luca stops at a door near the end and opens it, gesturing for me to enter.
The bedroom is spacious. Huge, actually. There's a king-sized bed with a plush cream comforter, matching nightstands with elegant lamps, and a sitting area with a couch and chairs near floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the gardens. A door on the far wall probably leads to a bathroom.
It's beautiful. Luxurious. A prison cell dressed up in silk and expensive furniture.
"I'll leave you to settle in," Luca says.
"Wait." I turn to face him, desperation clawing at my chest. "You can't seriously think this is okay. Forcing someone to marry him?"
Luca steps into the room and closes the door behind him. For a moment, he just looks at me, and I see something in his expression that might be sympathy.
"This was not what Emil wanted," he says.
"Then why is he doing it?"
"Because now he doesn't have a choice."
I shake my head. "That's bullshit. He always has a choice. He's the Pakhan, right? He can do whatever he wants."
"It's not that simple." Luca moves to the sitting area and gestures for me to join him. After a moment's hesitation, I do, perching on the edge of one of the chairs while he takes the couch.
"You saw Emil punishing that man," Luca continues. "You witnessed something that very few outsiders ever see. The family would be concerned that you'd tell someone. Your brother, for instance. The one who's a cop."
My stomach drops. "Jack."
"Yes. They couldn't take that chance. If word got out about what you saw, about Emil's methods, it could cause problems. Legal problems. Political problems. The kind of problems that destabilize power."
"So they'd kill me to keep me quiet." The words taste bitter on my tongue.
"They'd see it as necessary. As protecting the family." Luca leans forward, his elbows on his knees. "Emil is doing what he can to protect you. If you're his wife, you're family. Untouchable. No one can harm you without his permission."
I want to argue, want to tell him that I'll take my chances, that I can keep my mouth shut, that I don't need Emil's protection.
But the words stick in my throat because I remember the shooter outside my apartment.
"I can keep my mouth shut," I say anyway, because I have to try. "I won't tell anyone what I saw. Not Jack, not anyone. I'll take my chances."
Luca shakes his head slowly. "It's not that easy."
"Why not?"
"Because it's not just about you anymore." His voice is gentle, but the words hit like a sledgehammer. "Your brothers' lives are in danger too."
The room tilts. "What?"
"If the family decides you're a liability, they won't just eliminate you. They'll eliminate anyone you might have told. Anyone who could be a threat."
"But I haven't told anyone anything."
"They don't know that. And they won't take the risk." Luca's expression is grave. "Your brother Jack is a cop. That makes him especially dangerous in their eyes. If they decide to act, he'll be the first target."
"The police force can protect him." Even as I say it, I know how naive it sounds.
"Can they?" Luca's eyebrows rise. "The family has connections everywhere. In the police department, the mayor's office, and in the courts. All they have to do is say the word and your brother could be killed in the line of duty. A tragic accident. A shootout gone wrong. It happens all the time."
The air leaves my lungs in a rush. I can't breathe. Can't think.
Jack. Kevin. Devin. Kaleb.
My brothers. The men who raised me, protected me, loved me even when they drove me crazy with their overprotectiveness.
"You're lying." But I can hear the weakness in my own voice.
"I wish I were." Luca stands. "Emil is trying to protect you the only way he can. By making you family. By giving you his name and his protection. It's not perfect, but it's the best option you have right now."
He moves toward the door, then pauses with his hand on the handle.
"For what it's worth," he says quietly, "Emil cares about you. More than he's cared about anyone in a very long time. This isn't just about obligation or protection. He wants you to be his wife."
Then he's gone, and I'm alone in this beautiful prison.
I sit there for a long time, staring at nothing. My mind keeps circling back to the same thoughts and horrible realizations.
I'm trapped. Completely and utterly trapped.
If I refuse to marry Emil, his family will kill me. And probably my brothers, too, just to be safe.
If I try to run, they'll find me.
If I go to the police, to Jack, I'll be signing his death warrant.
There's no way out.
The tears come then, hot and angry and helpless. I cry for the life I thought I was building. For the independence I fought so hard to achieve. For the future I'll never have now.
I cry until there's nothing left, until I'm empty and exhausted and numb.
The sun is setting when Luca returns. He knocks softly before entering, giving me time to wipe my face and compose myself.
"Dinner is ready," he says. "Emil is waiting."
I want to refuse, stay in this room, and never come out. But what's the point? I can't hide forever.
I follow Luca back downstairs, through the elegant hallways to a different dining room than the one from breakfast. This one is smaller, more intimate, with a table set for two. Candles flicker in the center, casting warm light across the polished wood.
Emil stands when I enter. He's changed clothes, now wearing dark slacks and a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The tattoos on his arms are visible, the snake and panther seeming to move in the candlelight.
He looks at me, and I see something in his expression that might be concern. Or guilt. Maybe both.
"Sit," he says, gesturing to the chair across from him.
I sit because I don't have the energy to fight anymore.
Luca leaves us alone, closing the door softly behind him.
Emil pours wine into my glass, then his own. We sit in silence for a moment, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on us.
"I know you're angry," he says.
"Angry?" I laugh, and it sounds hollow. "That doesn't even begin to cover it."
"I understand."
"Do you?" I lean forward, meeting his eyes. "Do you understand what it's like to have your entire life ripped away from you? To be forced into something you never wanted? To have no choice, no control, no freedom?"
His jaw tightens. "Yes. I do."
The answer surprises me. I want to ask what he means, but I'm too tired. Too defeated.
"Luca explained the situation," I say instead. "About your family. About my brothers."
Emil nods slowly. "Then you understand why this is necessary."
"I understand that you've backed me into a corner. That you've made it impossible for me to say no without getting the people I love killed." I pick up my wine glass and take a long drink. "That's not the same as understanding."
"No. It's not."
We sit in silence again. A server appears with plates of food, elegant and beautifully presented. I stare at it without appetite.
"I'll play along," I finally say, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. "I'll marry you."