Page 101 of Royal Bargain
But I don’t feel relief.
I feel rage.
“Do you?” I ask, my voice low, brittle. “Because it sure as hell doesn’t feel like anyone has.”
Sasha blinks, surprised by the edge in my tone.
“For months, I’ve been running. Hiding. Wondering which one of you is going to show up with a bullet behind your back and call it justice.” I take a shaky breath. “And now you say you believe me, like that fixes it?”
Her mouth tightens. “You think this has been easy for me?”
“I don’t know what’s been easy for you, Sasha. You’ve never let me in.” I pause. “You always stood by him. Even when he tore me apart.”
“That’s not fair,” she snaps, and there’s real heat in her voice now. “I stayed because I had to. Because someone had to keep things from falling apart while you were off playing fugitive.”
I flinch. That one lands.
She exhales, steadies herself. “I didn’t come here to fight with you. I came to warn you. I’m risking everything by being here—don’t you get that?”
I stare at her, heart thudding. And for a second, I want to ask,Then why did you wait so long?
But I don’t.
Because I think I already know.
There’s a beat of silence. The wind picks up, whispering through the hollow frames of abandoned shipping crates around us.
Then Sasha speaks again, quieter this time.
“They’re coming for you, Ana. Not to talk. Not to bring you home. To make an example out of you.”
I feel like the ground is tilting under me.
I reach out and grab her arm before she can turn away. “Wait. What do you mean make an example?” My voice trembles. “Why would Dariy do this? Why now?”
Sasha stiffens beneath my grip.
“Why frame me?” I ask, the panic rising again. “Why make it look like I betrayed the Bratva?”
She looks at me, and for the first time tonight, she hesitates.
Not like she’s afraid.
Like she’s weighing whether or not it’s safe to say it out loud.
“You’re asking the wrong questions,” she says finally, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not about who is after you. It’s about why they needed you gone.”
My stomach drops.
“Someone wanted you out of the picture, Ana. Someone with the power to twist the narrative. You need to stop looking at the fallout—and start asking who lit the fuse.”
I let go of Sasha’s arm slowly, my fingers numb.
My mind races, every moment of the past few months flashing through me like broken glass—leaving the house in the dead of night, the threats, the safehouse, Burns, the campaign, Liam, Lily.
It hits me like a tremor beneath my skin.
This was never just about me.
