Page 24 of Savage Vows
“I sent men to bring back what belongs to this family.”
“And if she doesn’t come back?”
His mouth curves in something that isn’t quite a smile. “Then the family pays. You know how it works.”
Anger burns in my throat. “And your solution is to kill her?”
“She chose her cost,” he says simply. “Now she has to pay it.”
I take a slow breath, forcing my voice to stay even. “Then find her. I’ll talk to her.”
“You won’t need to,” he says. “The wedding will happen.”
“How?”
His eyes hold mine. “I promised a Petrova bride. There’s more than one of you.”
I take a step back from the desk and my shoulders hit a wall that breathes. I turn and find a man built like a truck filling the doorway, broad chest, thick forearms, eyes that don’t bother pretending this is my choice. He doesn’t touch me. He doesn’t need to. He is the end of the room.
“No way,” I say. “I’m not getting married. I’m not playing your twisted games.”
My father does not raise his voice. “You have no choice.”
“I always have a choice.”
“If you do not get married, we all die.”
The words land so quietly it takes a heartbeat for the meaning to catch up. I feel my jaw set before I can stop it.
“Who are these people?” I ask.
He leans back in the chair, fingers resting on the cane as if this is a lesson I should have learned years ago.
“Dangerous men,” he says simply.
“More dangerous than you?” I ask.
“Yes,” he says. “More powerful, connected.”
“That is not an answer.”
“It’s the only one that matters,” he says. “They want what was promised. If Julianne refuses, the promise moves to you. If you refuse too, they will collect in other ways. Money first, then blood. You know how this ends.”
I look at the man behind me and test the space to his right. He shifts half a step and the opening disappears. I can taste the polish in the air, lemon and old paper, the same smell from every time this house decided my life for me.
“You think fear will make me walk down an aisle,” I say.
“I think duty will,” he says. “Fear only reminds you what happens when you forget it.”
I stare at him until the room stops tilting. “Then tell me who he is.”
“That can wait,” he says. “What cannot wait is your answer.”
I breathe once, steady and slow, and keep my eyes on his. “You already know it.”
He studies me for a long moment like he’s searching for the girl who used to obey. “Bring her to the guest wing,” he says finally to the man at my back. “She will be fitted in the morning.”
The door opens behind the enforcer, and the hall air slides in, cooler than the study. I don’t move until he tips his chin toward the corridor, patient as stone.
