Page 121 of Captive Prize

What? I didn’t understand what was happening.

The tension in the air was absolutely stifling, as a silence stretched between us.

There were a few wary glances exchanged between the others, but Alina just ignored them. She was so unaffected by the awkward tension, I had to wonder if she was immune to it. Or was she laying some kind of mean girl trap?

I braced myself, not trusting what she was going to say or do.

“Look, I know who you are. And I know everything you’ve done. And if you ever do anything to put my baby at risk again, you won’t see me coming.”

Message delivered. I had no trouble respecting her for saying it.

Her expression then grew soft with a serene honesty.

“I also know that we have all done things we’re not proud of to survive.” She shrugged, as if this was the simplest explanation in the entire world. “And every single one of us would do it again in a heartbeat.”

I blinked at her, completely dumbfounded.

Alina gestured lazily toward the others, her tone light but cutting. Telling the others that she was not to be fucked with on this.

She was setting the tone and laying down the law. Which under any other circumstances I was pretty sure would be up to Samara, or maybe Viktoria. The power structure between Gregor and Artem was still a little confusing.

But in this, at least, the others looked toward Alina.

“I—” I had absolutely no idea how to respond to any of that.

“Do you think you’re the first woman here to spill blood in this family? The first one of us who had to make a hard choice? Or was put in a position that you had to act violently to save yourself?” She smirked at me. “Honey, if you do, then you haven’t been paying attention.”

Her words hit like a well-aimed shot.

A shift rippled through the room—subtle, but it was there. Then all at once it was like the tension seized and then dissipated, like a breath held too long, or shoulders relaxing after a massage.

There was a flicker of something almost like acceptance. Just like that, all the hostility in the air melted.

“Excuse you, I do not pretend to be perfect,” Yelena said in mock outrage. “That’s just how I am.”

All of us collectively let out a snort, and Samara rolled her eyes.

The conversation shifted to sharing stories of the various injuries the women had inflicted on the men they loved during their unusual courtships.

Everything from Yelena’s hitting Damien with a brick, to Alina stealing Pavel’s gun. And how both Marina and Viktoria had learned the hard way that train travel had benefits and drawbacks when it came to quick escapes.

For the first time in years, perhaps ever, I felt like maybe I could belong.

Like maybe, just maybe, I didn’t have to fight alone.

Viktoria got out of the pool and moved to a little metal cart I hadn’t noticed until now. Large metal domes covered plates, and as Viktoria uncovered them, she revealed several full glasses of cucumber water, plates of fresh fruit, and caviar with bellinis laid out by the staff.

One by one, we all got out of the pool, wrapped ourselves in towels and robes, and sat around on the comfortable patio furniture. I had to admit; this was probably the nicest basement I had ever seen.

It really was like a private resort.

A little oasis in the middle of a lot of chaos. I could get used to that.

The girls started chatting about some gallery, everyone relaxing and talking more freely. A few times they even pulled me into the conversation. It was casual, comfortable, and I really liked it.

Viktoria and Alina talked about their online classes, and Alina wondered out loud if they could go back to in-person classes now that I was going to be one of them.

Viktoria snorted and said probably not. Artem had gotten a little too used to interrupting her study sessions.

---