Page 50 of Savage Obsession

I offer her a small, sad smile. “I’m not acting tough. I’m being realistic.”

She sighs, crossing her arms. “Tell me, then. Why are you staying?”

“Because danger in our world doesn’t care where we are, Alina,” I say softly. “Look at our father. Look at what happened to me, right under all that security. It doesn’t matter if I’m in New York or here. If someone wants me dead, they’ll come for me.”

Alina’s face tightens at the mention of our father. It’s still a fresh wound, even after all this time. We don’t talk about it often, but the loss still lingers in the air between us, shaping our choices, our fears.

“You’re not wrong,” she finally murmurs. “But it doesn’t make it easier to leave you behind.”

I reach out and squeeze her hand. “I’m not alone.”

She snorts, glancing toward the door as if expecting Aithan to storm in at any second. “No, you’re not. He hovers over you like a dragon guarding treasure.”

I laugh for the first time in days, the sound foreign even to my own ears. “He’s been… different.”

Alina arches an eyebrow. “Different how?”

I hesitate, thinking of the way Aithan has held me through my worst nights, how he’s sat beside me in silence while I cried, how he’s put aside everything else to make sure I wasn’t alone.

“Less of a ruthless mafia boss and more of a…” I struggle for the right word.

“A loving, devoted, and doting husband?” Alina supplies.

I give her a look. “Let’s not go that far.”

She smirks. “Yet, you’re still staying.”

I roll my eyes. “Yes, I’m staying. And you need to get ready before Viktor gets impatient.”

Alina groans. “I swear, that brother of yours finds joy in making people uncomfortable.”

I laugh again, this time with less effort, and pull her into a tight embrace. “Be safe, sister.”

“You too,” she whispers.

When we pull apart, I see it in her eyes—the same thing I’ve seen in Aithan’s. A promise. A silent vow that no matter what happens, she will always come for me.

And I know, deep down, I would do the same for her.

Alina studies me closely, her electric blue eyes scanning my face like she’s peeling back every layer I’ve carefully constructed. Then, with that uncanny twin intuition of hers, she tilts her head and asks the question I didn’t want to hear.

“Are you staying because you feel obligated to fulfill the reason for this arranged marriage, or…” she pauses for a beat, hergaze piercing. “Or is it because you’ve fallen in love with your husband?”

My stomach tightens. A sharp exhale slips past my lips as I avert my gaze, suddenly finding the pattern on the carpet far more interesting than my sister’s scrutinizing stare. The truth has been sitting heavily in my chest for days, pressing down on me like an unbearable weight. I know what I feel.

But saying it out loud? That’s an entirely different beast.

I don’t answer. I don’t deny it, but I don’t admit it either.

The silence stretches between us, speaking volumes. Alina’s eyes soften, the sharp edge of her teasing replaced by something more profound, more understanding. “It’s alright to admit it, you know,” she says gently, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

I swallow hard, but still, I don’t respond. I’m not ready to say the words.

Not yet.

Alina sighs, but there’s no disappointment in it—only amusement. “I’m happy for you,” she finally says, her voice warm with sincerity. “It seems every one of our siblings has found love except for me.”

That gets my attention. I snap my gaze up to her, a flicker of surprise crossing my face. My twin—the soft, yet confident, and always composed Alina—feeling left out in the grand scheme of love?

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