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I stand in what was once my family home with my knees wobbling and my father’s ultimatum still ringing in my ears. He demands that I choose between saving Grigor or saving Cecily, and the weight of that threat steals my breath. My eyes move between them. Grigor is barely conscious and bleeding from his temple, and Cecily’s face is streaked with tears.

“I won’t choose,” I whisper, forcing each syllable from my constricted throat. “You can’t make me.”

My father’s lips twist. “I’ve gone too far to turn back now, Seraphina. It’s your fault—every piece of it.” He motions to the men around us, half a dozen sets of eyes aimed in our direction. “If you’d just stayed loyal, obeyed my instructions, none of this would’ve happened.”

“You’re the one who lied!” My voice cracks, raw with grief and fury. “You told me Cecily was in danger because of some outside threat, but it was you all along!”

He tightens his hold on Cecily, who whimpers. “You had your part to play, and you failed me. I gave you everything, and you turned on me for that Bratva scum. This is the cost.”

Grigor coughs and drags himself upright with a grimace. He focuses on me, ignoring the blood trailing down his face. “Don’t give him what he wants. We can fight our way out.”

My father’s men come to attention at the mention of resistance. Guns stay leveled, ready to fire if we dare defy them. I clench my fists, struggling to steady my breathing. “I’m not giving you anything,” I bite out.

“Then watch them both die,” he replies. His voice holds no hint of compassion. He’s abandoned every shred of fatherly feeling—if he ever possessed it at all.

Cecily trembles in his grip, trying to speak, but he clamps a hand over her mouth. She looks at me with pleading eyes, urging me to do something, anything, to save her. My father is a wall of rage, beyond reason.

Slowly, I lift my gaze to Grigor. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper. It feels meaningless in the face of this horror, but it’s the only truth I have left. My regret for all the ways I’ve misled him, all the times I placed him in jeopardy by funneling information to my father. My heart aches with the knowledge that he could pay the price for my father’s obsession. Tears burn my cheeks, and I see the shape of his battered face and the swell of his cheek, the gash above his eyebrow. He’s taken every blow meant for me. My father’s men stripped me of my weapon, leaving me helpless. But I can’t just stand here and watch him be executed. I can’t lose Cecily either. I love them both too much.

My father cuts in, “Enough. If you won’t choose, then I’ll handle it myself.” With a snap of his fingers, two men move toward Grigor, guns raised, while two more hold Cecily. Another stands guard over me with his weapon pointed at my chest.

Grigor looks over his shoulder at the men bearing down on him before he looks back at me with a silent farewell in his eyes. A chill slams into my core.

“No!” I exclaim. The guard near me presses the barrel of his rifle closer, forcing me to halt. Think, Seraphina. Don’t freeze up.

“You think you can persuade me with tears?” my father mocks. “It’s too late. You ruined everything: my alliances, my honor, the future I built for this family.”

“You built nothing but lies,” I spit. “You used me as your pawn, and now you dare blame me?”

He doesn’t bother with a reply, just motions to one of his men. The man steps up to Grigor and raises the butt of his gun. My chest constricts. If he lands another blow on Grigor’s head, it might kill him.

My father is too caught up in his vendetta, too lost in his fury to see reason, but maybe I can disrupt his plan, create an opening for Grigor—and maybe for Cecily. If I can distract him, if I can get my hands on a weapon…

I glance at Grigor, and I try to convey everything I haven’t had the courage to say through my eyes. I love you. I’m sorry . And he gives the barest nod, as if urging me on. My heart hammers as adrenaline courses through every vein. I recall that moment in the car, how he told me everything would be fine, how I just needed to trust him. Right now, I have to trust myself.

“You keep saying I ruined things,” I begin, “that I destroyed your ambitions. But you’re the one who refused any compromise. You think the Barkovs never respected you? You never gave them a chance. You set out to undermine them from the start.”

He narrows his eyes at me. “Watch your mouth. You’ll regret defying me again.”

“Or what? You’ll shoot me? Is that what you want, to kill your own daughter?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

I stifle a sob. I must keep him talking, keep him focused on me. A few men shift behind him. They glance at one another, possibly uneasy about him threatening to kill his own child. Maybe that’s a crack I can exploit.

“You’re too blinded by anger to see a better path,” I tell him, stepping carefully forward. The guard near me tenses, but I keep my hands visible, not threatening. “Mother would be horrified by what you’re doing.”

“Don’t you dare mention her,” he snarls. “She would understand. She stood by me when no one else did.”

“And now you stand here alone, with no one left but men bound to you by your money, not out of loyalty.” I stare at him, letting tears slip freely. “You’re about to murder one daughter while using the other as a hostage. Is that what Mother would’ve wanted?”

His eyes flicker, wounded for a breath, but then fury returns. “You don’t know a thing about her, about what she wanted. You were always too young and too naive.”

Grigor tries to speak, but a guard grips his shoulder and jabs a pistol into his ribs. He coughs, subdued for the moment. My father, though, seems rattled by my confrontation. That might be the only advantage I have. I inhale deeply as I gauge how close I can get to him without setting anyone into motion. My father stands a few steps away, holding Cecily by the arm. She’s shaking, with her eyes darting between me and Grigor.

Then I see the gun at my father’s waist, tucked into a holster. He hasn’t drawn it yet. Probably doesn’t see the need since so many of his men are armed. If I can get close enough…

“Don’t do this, Father. You’ve gone too far. Please, let Cecily go. Let us all go.”

“You never learn,” he replies. “I told you, I won’t let the Barkovs keep trampling over me. Now that I have you and that parasite in your womb, I finally have leverage.”

“Leverage for what?” I choke out. “To start a war, you can’t win?”

He scoffs. “I have enough alliances still willing to stand by me if I can remove the Barkovs from power. Think about how valuable it is to hold the second-in-command of the Barkov Bratva hostage. Or better yet, kill him and send a message to Aleksei and the rest.”

Cecily trembles in his grip. “Father, please… You’ll only make them come after you.”

My father snorts. “Let them try.”

I close another step. “If you kill Grigor, you’ll be putting a target on your back forever. Is that really what you want?”

He scowls. “I’d rather die than live under the Barkovs’ shadow.”

I see his finger twitch near his sidearm. There’s no time. I swallow my fear and lunge forward, grabbing for his gun. He reacts with lightning speed, blocking my hand. He releases my sister, and we struggle, arms locked in a violent dance. My heart thunders. He growls, shoving me away. I lose my balance and hit the floor, feeling a jolt of pain along my spine.

Grigor roars my name just as my father aims his weapon at me. The shot is about to go off, and everything funnels into that horrifying instant.

Then Grigor slams into him, tackling him sideways. They crash into a table, sending splinters and an abandoned vase scattering. My father elbows Grigor hard in the ribs, and Grigor staggers, but he doesn’t let go. A brutal fistfight ensues, and the room fills with the sound of flesh hitting flesh and my father grunting in fury while Grigor fights like a man possessed. His men circle around them, trying to find a way to separate them.

Meanwhile, the front doors burst open, and I see Aleksei, Dmitri, Maksim, Nikolai, and Akim rushing in with weapons at the ready. Their men fan out, taking shots at my father’s guards. My ears ring from gunshots. I drag myself to a corner, trying to keep my head low as bullets whiz overhead.

This is a war zone. The siblings fight side by side, picking off the guards who outnumbered us moments ago. The tide might turn in our favor if they can corner my father, but he’s slippery.

My father pulls another hidden gun from his ankle and aims at Grigor’s midsection. My breath catches, certain he’s about to fire. Then Aleksei’s voice booms from across the room. “Drop it, Thorne!”

My father roars something incoherent, switching tactics. He scrambles to his feet and shoves Cecily at me, only to yank her back again when Grigor tries to exploit the opening. In that single second of confusion, men from both sides exchange more gunfire, leaving some of my father’s men wounded or disarmed. The rest scatter, retreating with curses on their lips. The Barkov brothers press forward, but my father acts quickly, hooking an arm around Cecily’s neck, gun pressing against her temple.

“Back off!” he shouts, stepping away from Grigor’s furious lunge. “Any closer and I’ll kill her.”

We freeze. Grigor’s chest heaves, covered in bruises and blood. Aleksei and the others aim their weapons, but nobody can risk a shot. The dread in my stomach deepens. Cecily’s wide, terrified eyes seek mine. My father shuffles toward the exit, dragging her with him.

“Let her go!” I shout. “You have me, Grigor, everyone here. Why do you need her?”

He smirks, not slowing his backward movement. “You wouldn’t dare let them shoot while I have your precious innocent sister, would you? That’s the problem with you, Seraphina. You get too attached. Me? I care about winning.”

He edges out the doorway with the muzzle pressed to Cecily’s head. One of Grigor’s men tries to intercept, but my father fires a warning shot that sends the man ducking. Heart pounding, I watch helplessly as he slips through the threshold, disappearing into the night with Cecily’s muffled scream echoing behind him.

A profound silence descends, broken only by the groans of the wounded. I stumble forward, wanting to chase after him, but Grigor grips my arm. “Don’t,” he warns.

“Cecily,” I manage. “I can’t… We can’t leave her. He’ll hurt her.”

He cradles my face in his hands, forcing me to make eye contact. “We’ll get her back,” he vows. “I promise you, Seraphina. This isn’t over.”

Tears spill down my cheeks as I cling to him, words failing me. My father just outmaneuvered us all. He forced us into this firefight, escaped with Cecily as his shield, and left chaos in his wake. Even with Grigor’s brothers and their men, we lost her.

I choke out, “He’s taking her who knows where. He’ll use her. He’ll… Oh God.”

Grigor pulls me against him, stroking my hair. “Easy. Breathe. I told you, we’ll find her. That bastard won’t keep her forever. He’s cornered. He had to run. We’ll track him down.”

My heart stutters, but I cling to that thread of hope. “Please. We have to—We have to go after him.”

“We will,” he assures me. “But first, we need to regroup, secure your safety. Then we hunt him. I swear I won’t rest until she’s back with you. You have to trust me, Krasivaya . I love you, and I will never abandon you. Never. No matter what happens, that won’t change. Okay?”

The words flow into the cracks of my heart, soothing the ache. He loves me. Grigor loves me. It’s the truth that’s been there all along, even in the darkest moments, when I feared what would become of us. His arms surround me, holding me tight. And for a moment, in the midst of the blood and ruin, I believe him. I believe in his promises.

Because if anyone can save Cecily, it’s him.