Bodies were strewn about the tarmac, mostly dead with some suffering in their final moments from various gunshot wounds. Most of them belonged to Francesco and Tomasso.

Across the strip, what looked like a wall of men stood against us. At once, a loud, commanding voice made them all stop, keeping their guns in the air.

Then, through the haze of my confusion, I realized who it was.

Val stepped forward with his weapon raised, trailed by his brothers, who all wore similar focused expressions.

Seeing him there both brought me a sense of relief and further panic, as it seemed to cement reality for me. I hadn’t imagined it all—I was there, and I could feel the cold barrel of a pistol against my head.

Wincing from the pain of Francesco tugging on my hair, a shaky breath escaped me, and I tried to keep myself together.

It became incredibly clear to me how different they were compared to the Novikovs. How their handling of me was such a start contrast, I couldn’t help but think about how gentle Val had been in comparison. It was like night and day, and I couldn’t deny that.

Seeing Val there only made me want to be back with him more.

Even if we struggled through the beginning of our marriage, and there had been a time when I wanted nothing more than to get away from the entire situation, that feeling seemed so distant. In comparison, being by his side and enduring his teasing was like paradise.

I hated the fact that my father worked against my best interests and forced me into the arrangement, but I couldn’t deny how it changed everything for me in a way I never expected. How I had the chance to see the real Val beneath the bravado, and I found myself genuinely connecting with him.

More than anything, I just wanted to get back to that. To the tender moments we shared, and to the hope for what we were becoming to each other.

“Please, Francesco, just let my daughter go,” Dad said, giving him a pleading look. “We don’t need to bring her into this.”

“You know damn well why she’s here, Andrey. If you want to blame anyone, blame yourself for making promises you couldn’t keep,” he barked back without relenting in the slightest. “I never should’ve entertained the likes of you in the first place…you’re spineless and entirely self-serving…all you had to do was keep your word. But instead, you bent to the will of those Novikov bastards.”

“Andrey is right,” Val interjected, keeping his focus entirely on the two men holding us captive. There was a serious determination in his eyes that I had never seen before. It seemed to come from years of practice and being desensitized to similar situations. Even so, there was a touch of concern in his eyes. “Tia doesn’t need to be involved. This is between us and Andrey.”

An irritated sound came from Francesco, and he bumped the pistol against the back of my head. “You think I want to negotiate with you? The one who took what belongs to my son?”

Val’s expression hardened. “Tommaso has no claim over her…he never did.”

“That’s easy for you to say, isn’t it? You weren’t there for the negotiation,” Francesco uttered. “No…you were off, refusing to acknowledge Andrey’s offer in the first place. You wiped your hands clean of it, only to change your mind right before my son could take her as his wife. We were mere days away.”

“That’s not my problem.”

“No? But it sure seems to be now, with your precious usurped wife in my possession,” he snapped back, well aware that he had more control over the situation than Val did.

“Please, Francesco…I know what I did, and it was a mistake. You feel wronged—that much is clear. But surely, we can figure this out without hurting my daughter in the process,” Dad said through his shaken breaths. “We can choose to be diplomatic about this.”

“Diplomatic?” Francesco echoed incredulously as he leaned a bit closer, eyes wild. “I was nothing but diplomatic about the entire affair, only for you to go back on your word. To string my poor boy along and make a fool out of him.”

“That was never my intention—”

“No, but it happened, and I don’t take kindly to anyone trampling over my family. Least of all my son. Consider yourself lucky that I haven’t ended you yet myself.”

While I was furious and terrified over what my father did, for all the ways he used me and landed me in that very position, I didn’t want anything to happen to him.

“They are my mistakes, and my consequences to face,” Dad continued, speaking bravely despite the circumstances. “But don’t let Tatiana suffer for it. Make me pay for it, not her.”

The words and the sincerity in them made my heart twist.

Despite being responsible for the soured deal and for the conflict, it seemed he was more than willing to face it on his own, even if it meant suffering. He could acknowledge where he went wrong, and while some part of me still wanted to be angry, I couldn’t bring myself to hate him.

He was being more protective and caring in that moment than he ever outwardly had been before. It surprised me, but it was at least somewhat reassuring, despite it all.

“Is your measly life supposed to make up for the ways we’ve been wronged? Do you really think your suffering is all I want out of this?” Francesco said, never letting the heat subside from his words.

“Take my life, my money, and everything else I have…just don’t take my daughter.”