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And from the pain in her voice, I can tell that her concern is no longer for the well-being of their family’s name or the former glory of her father’s empire. She’s imploring as a concerned sister that Tatiana not to marry Lucian. She’s begging Tatiana asa girl who loves the person she grew up with and doesn’t want to see her be miserable.
Because no one deserves the kind of hell on earth Tatiana will experience if she traps herself in a marriage alliance to Lucian Agosti.
But the deal is done. I can see it written plainly in the determination of Tatiana’s face. And so can Lucian. He reels Natasha back in once more, a greedy smile spreading across his face.
“Done,” the don says, bringing a ringing sense of finality to the negotiations. “Why don’t you come untie your sister, then? And you and I can head to the church together?”
My body hums like a live wire, every fiber of my being straining to find some way out of this conundrum. But I don’t know what it would be. And once Tatiana falls into Lucian’s possession I don’t see how we’ll ever get her back.
Chin held high, the Russian princess stalks cooly up the gravel drive to climb the terrace steps.
“Ti, please,” Natasha whispers as her sister draws near. “Go back. It’s not too late. Nothing is worth that sacrifice.”
With a soft smile, Tatiana stops in front of her sister. And completely ignoring Lucian, who looms darkly at Natasha’s elbow, the elder Sokolov sister reaches for the bindings around Natasha’s wrists.
“You are,” Tatiana says, her voice kind and brimming with a love I’ve never heard before. “And so are all the men Father entrusted to my care. If this is what it takes to keep you all safe, then this is what I’ll do.”
Natasha’s restraints fall to the ground, and she throws her arms around her sister’s shoulders. Pulling her close, she bites back a sob as she hugs Tatiana ferociously.
Behind Natasha, a strange flicker of emotion passes over Lucian’s face. It’s so fleeting, I’m almost positive I imagined it.But if I had to name the odd emotion, I would almost say it was akin to regret.
And he lets the sisters take a moment to truly say their goodbyes.
Then Tatiana cups her sister’s chin in her soft, beautifully manicured fingers. And she holds herself regally as she says, “Go to your husband, sister.”
“I love you,” Natasha murmurs so quietly I can only read it on her lips. Squaring her shoulders, she presses her mouth into a determined line, and she does as Tatiana said.
Her feet pick up their pace as she races down the steps, and as if he can’t wait to see her safe, my foster brother rushes forward to meet her.
“Killian,” Tatiana says, turning to stand beside Lucian, who looks like the cat who ate the canary. “You be good to her.”
Killian gives her one solemn nod, and I get the horrible sinking feeling that, rather than a wedding, Tatiana’s being ushered to her own funeral.
“Muzhchiny, idite domoy,” thepakhanshacommands.
And as one, the Sokolov men gather their dead in their vehicles and slowly form a procession as they depart. Slipping into our Escalade, we follow along with the rest of the King men. The peace that follows feels like a tentative one, but it seems that the war between our three families has ended as quickly as it began.
34
QUINN
I’m too wound up to do anything productive—like homework or study for the NCLEX. Instead, I sit on the stairs in the entryway, my knee bouncing as I fixate on the front door. I want to be ready to attend to whatever wounds need treatment. But it feels like a lifetime of anxiety as I wait for the survivors to return.
Finally, I can hear the rumbling engine of our Escalade. It sounds in need of medical attention itself, and I race toward the door, wrenching it open because I can’t wait any longer.
I gasp at the sight of the armored SUV. Dents pockmark every inch of it—including the windshield, which looks more like crackle glass than a solid pane. Only two other cars return with ours, and my heart hammers against my ribs.
This can’t be all the survivors…Can it?
I think I’m going to be sick.
But I have to know.
Is Killian alive?
Is Lance?
I scarcely dare to breathe as the engine shuts off. I can’t tell who’s driving the car. And again, it feels like ages before two doors swing open.