Page 47 of Emperor of Wrath

Isaak shrugs again. “What? He didn’t get caught.”

When we get back to Sota’s building, he’s who I go to first. His breathing is fucked up, but just from the adrenaline hit. He’s not wounded, and Hana and three of Sota’s men have already gotten his oxygen tank to him, allowing him to breathe easier.

Then I turn, and my eyes lock with Annika’s. Wordlessly, I cross the roof deck to her.

“You okay?”

She nods. She looks shaken, but not overly so.

It hits me: this isn’t the first time she’s been shot at.

Why does that bother me so much?

“You’re not hurt…?”

“She’s fine,” Freya mutters, shooting me a look.

“She can answer for herself, Morticia,” I throw back.

Freya’s eyes narrow, and then she grins. “I know you’re trying to be a dick, but I actually take that as a compli?—”

“Great. Take it however you want,” I mutter, pulling away from her to frown down into Annika’s face. “You’re really not hurt?”

She arches a brow. “Oh my God, how many times do you want me to say it?”

“Once, audibly, would be nice,” I grunt.

She rolls her eyes. “I’m fine. You can stop pretending to give a shit now, okay?”

She gets up, pushing past me to go over and talk with Kir, Isaak and Freya. I just keep staring after her.

The thing is…

I’m realizing how very urgently I asked her if she was okay, and that none of it was for show, to pretend that I gave a shit.

Which begs the question: why the fuck was it so important to me to make sure my fake wife, who I don’t even like, was okay?

The answer rustles against my ankles. I scowl, reaching down to pick up the blood marker before it blows right off the roof. My eyes stab into our names written on it.

I give a shit, because like it or not, duty or not, this woman is my fucking wife.

The marriage will come. It was pledged it in blood. It was cemented in violence.

And there’s no going back now.

10

ANNIKA

For the two weeks following the attack at Sota Akiyama’s brownstone, we’re basically on total lockdown. Since moving to New York a few months ago, I’ve been living in Taylor’s amazing apartment, seeing as she now lives with Drazen at his ludicrously luxe place on billionaire’s row on Central Park South. Freya, meanwhile, has been living her best rock star life at various luxury hotels.

After the shooting, though, Kir shuts all that down. Frey and I move into the two-level penthouse he purchased about a year ago while he himself heads to London on business.

We’re safe there: the penthouse is a fortress, guarded by a small army of his men. But we’re basically prisoners. No going outside, aside from Kir’s patio. Even then, we’re only supposed to be out there if we notify Kir’s guards first, so they can be on extra alert.

Honestly, it’s a pain in the ass. But at least I’ve got Freya with me, and after about a week, I’m on her mostly nocturnal schedule, which I don’t really mind.

Finally, after two weeks of captivity, Kir gives the all-clear.

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