Page 17 of Crimson Fate

I take a deep breath, my mind racing as I try to make sense of the situation. “If you truly believe in forging a new path, then you have to be prepared for the consequences,” I say, my voice filled with caution.

“All they’re asking for is your support,” Eva says.

And there it is. The crux of it all—support. In our world, that’s not just a pat on the back or a congratulatory toast. It’s the promise of protection, of allegiance. It’s committing to guard a new life with every resource at my disposal.

“Support,” I agree, the word now a vow, even as I grapple with the enormity of what I’m agreeing to. “At what cost?”

Amelia and Alexei exchange a glance. “What do you want us to say?” Alex replies. “At some point, we all must be willing to pay a price.”

“That’s easy to say when you’re not the one paying the price,” I reply.

The truth is I would love to be an uncle. I want to embrace happiness. I don’t see the path forward being as transparent as Amelia and Alexei seem to. Can their child, blood of Ivanov, ever truly find a home among Kings?

“Alexei.” My voice is steady despite the quivering doubt. “You know what being part of this world entails. The sacrifices. The danger.”

“The Ivanov heritage,” he says, nodding solemnly. “I understand your concern, but we believe—”

“Belief.” I interject, a mirthless chuckle escaping. “Belief doesn’t shield you from bullets or betrayals in our world. Look at what happened to our father, or how about your brother?”

Alexei’s face tightens at the reference to his brother. “I know the risks,” he says, his voice barely a whisper. “But I refuse to let fear dictate our lives. We can’t let the sins of the past define our future.”

“Of course, family is everything,” I say slowly, choosing each word like picking locks. “But innocence has no place in our dealings. If you bring a child into this, they inherit not just your love but also your enemies.”

“Which is why we need to fix what’s broken,” Alexei insists, his stare unwavering.

“Fixing what’s broken.” I ruminate on the concept. It’s a luxury few in our line of work can afford. “And if it can’t be fixed?” I ask, already knowing some rifts are too wide to bridge.

“Then we at least try,” Amelia says, conviction stealing her usual warmth.

“Trying,” I repeat, letting the word hang in the air.

“Vincent,” Alexei says, a hint of pleading in his baritone voice, “we’re asking for more than just your blessing. We’re asking for your help.”

“Help,” I murmur, the word settling in my chest like a stone. The King’s world is not one of forgiveness or second chances. It’s one where every favor is a debt. “Right now, I’m barely holding on to the family. I can’t make any promises.”

“Vincent.” Eva’s voice slices through the stillness, a lifeline thrown amid the brewing storm. “You have a lot to process. Maybe we should head out, and you can talk more about this later after you have time to process it.”

I turn to Eva, grateful for her timely intervention. “You’re probably right,” I reply, my voice laced with weariness.

Amelia nods, her eyes shining with determination. “We understand. We’re not expecting anything to come easy.”

I offer her a small smile.

As we make our way to the exit, Eva slips her hand into mine, providing a grounding force amid the uncertainty that rages inside me. I’m suddenly incredibly grateful for her presence.

In my mind’s eye, I see a child with Ivanov eyes and King’s determination, a blending of legacies that might heal the wounds of our families. For now, though, all I only have the capacity to think about how I move forward as head of the King family. Relinquishing the crown isn’t something I am willing to do, at least not as long as I have breath in my body. The next generation will have to wait until I secure the legacy for this generation.

Chapter Six

The car pulls up to the high-rise that slices through the skyline—my urban fortress. I glance at Eva’s soft and thoughtful silhouette against the leather seat. “Come up?” I ask, not wanting this night to end tangled in silence.

“Okay,” she replies, unbuckling her seat belt and smoothing out the fabric of her dress.

We ride the elevator up in a comfortable quiet, the numbers climbing along with the tension knotted in my chest as I replay the evening’s events in my mind. Once inside my apartment, I flick on the lights, and the vast space floods with a golden hue.

Eva follows me into the main living room before she perches on the edge of the sleek sofa, twisting a strand of hair around her finger. “I think tonight went pretty well, don’t you?” she asks as I pour myself a drink and offer her one, to which she shakes her head.

I pace the room, the frustration bubbling inside me like a shaken champagne bottle. “If you say so,” I answer, sitting at the other end of the sofa.

---