Page 2 of Savage Reign

A muscle in his jaw ticks. “That’s what we wanted Anatoly to believe. He’s not dead—Sergey is. I killed him myself.”

My face drains of color. What kind of man kills his own brother only to partner with a rival bratva? I shake my head. “Why would you be working with the Syndicate?”

“That’s a long story, and we don’t have time for it. The important piece is, I just got out of jail to find out Sergey had partnered with Anatoly. While I was locked up, they started a side business in sex trafficking.” He frowns, his jaw tightening. “It was something we swore never to touch, but Sergey got real good at breaking his word.”

Liza said they were into dark deeds, but sex trafficking? That’s sickening.

“My brother was a piece of shit that didn’t deserve to live,” he continues. “Thatmudakwas going to marry you today… a seventeen-year-old.” His jaw hardens as he scans the chapel. “Roman and others are rescuing Liza from the farmhouse, which means we have to kill some time here before they can provide us with backup. There’s one guard too many for me to take out on my own.”

“Why should I trust a word you say?” I huff. He’s a cold-blooded killer, not exactly a man of his word.

He tips my chin up so I can’t look anywhere else but at him. “You don’t have a choice. These guards are mercenaries. Anatoly hired outside help for this job, which means they don’t know what Sergey looks like, and they believe I’m him. In a few minutes, a priest is going to walk through those doors, and we will be expected to marry.”

Anxiety claws at my throat. “We have to get… married?”

“We have to go through the motions so the guards believe everything’s going according to plan. It also means I have to act the part—brutal and ruthless.” He cocks his head, studying my reaction. “I’m here to protect you, but I can only do that if you play along. Do you understand?”

I understand what he’s saying, but do I trust him? No. Except, like he said, I don’t have a choice.

The door swings open, and a terrified-looking priest is marched toward us by one of the hulking mercenaries. In a blink, Nikolai’s demeanor changes. His back snaps straight, his stare grows cold, and he wears a callous smile.

“I was playing with my bride-to-be. But if the priest is here, let’s get this over with so I can enjoy the real prize.” His eyes drink me in, flashing with hunger.

Dread snakes through me. Is this the real Nikolai, or is he only playing the part as he claimed? When the guard’s attention turns toward the priest, Nikolai’s gaze softens, and his thumb brushes over my cheekbone.

The rest of the men trail in, and Nikolai frowns. “She needs to be cut free. I'm not marrying a woman in zip ties.”

One of them reaches for me, but Nikolai steps between us. “You don’t get to touch what’s mine,” he growls. The guard produces a knife, which Nikolai snatches from him.

My hands tremble as Nikolai carefully slices through the heavy plastic, freeing me from the bonds. He pulls me against his body and announces, “Are you ready to get married, my little mouse? Don’t look so scared. I promise to be gentle… at first.”

Snickers fill the room, and my blood runs cold. I’m in the company of predators—the kind who enjoy watching others suffer.

“Gentlemen,” Nikolai addresses the guards. “I require everyone to witness this holy union. Sit and watch.” He points to the pews.

They exchange looks as if this is the strangest thing anyone has ever asked of them.

“What’s the fucking holdup?” Nikolai snaps. “All of you, sit the fuck down. This is my wedding, and we’re doing it my way.”

His authoritative voice has them scrambling into place. Half a dozen guards sink into the pews, our reluctant guests.

“Y-you sign marriage certificate first,” the priest stammers in broken English, gesturing toward a small desk beside the altar.

Nikolai grabs me by the wrist, shoving me toward the desk. He doesn’t read it, just adds his signature at the bottom.

“Sign it.” He thrusts the pen at me and jabs his finger beside the line that requires my signature.

My hand freezes. Could this make our union real? The idea is so horrifying that the pen drops and clatters to the floor. I leave it there, my limbs frozen.

Nikolai reaches down to pick it up before forcing it back into my hand. “I said, fucking sign it. Are you stupid?”

Another round of harsh laughter fills the small space. Either Nikolai is a top-notch actor, or he actually has no soul. The jury is still out.

I draw my shoulders back and put pen to paper, adding my signature. The ink is barely dry on the paper when Nikolai hauls me back in front of the priest, and the ceremony starts. I don’t understand a word of what the priest is saying because it’s in another language, Greek, I’m pretty sure, although I can tell he’s stuttering and losing his place more than he should. Like me, he’s clearly not here willingly.

As the priest chants, the guards shuffle in their seats, distracted, but Nikolai isn’t. His attention locks on me, studying every detail of my face like he’s committing it to memory.

As much as I’m scared for myself, my mind drifts back to Liza. Is she okay? Is Roman really alive, as Nikolai claims? Can he save her? Is Nikolai really who he says he is, or will this end with me in a worse situation than I’m already in?

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