Page 106 of Jewel of the Assassin

His smile is slow, a predator’s. “You will.”

I battle a shiver.

He lifts his chin, and the nearest mercenaries step forward.

“No!” I grab my pistol, catatonic at the thought of them touching my husband. I swing it up and fire. One drops. Then another. I raise the gun for a third shot, but Anton’s hand clamps on mine, twisting with cruel precision, overpowering me until the weapon clatters onto the gravel.

His breath ghosts my ear as he pins my arms with one hand and presses the small of my back, drawing me closer. “If you struggle,moya nevesta, it will be worse for him. I assure you.” His promise is dark and avenging as he brushes his nose along my cheek, his lips skimming my jaw.

The words sink into my bones.My bride.My chest caves because I know he means it.

Roman growls, lunging toward him, and the mercs move in fast. Anton forces me to my knees, holding my jaw still so I watch every fist land on my husband, every bruise they deal, every drop of blood they spill.

The same blood smearing my hands. My heart is pounding sohard it hurts, drowning out the sounds of my cries, my screams for Anton to make it stop.

Anton waits until Roman is gasping for air before gripping my chin, tilting it up, and meeting my eyes. “Here is the bargain, Valentina. You will become my wife. Publicly. The ceremony, the vows, the papers. You will share my bed, bear my name, and be mine in every way. In exchange—” He gestures lazily to the estate around us. “They all live. Your staff. Your brother. My mother. Yes, I knew about Roman’s precious tunnel…and how to hack the system. My men are gathering them all into the great hall for my grand announcement.”

“And Roman?” My heart freezes.

Anton grins. “Yes, even this stubborn fool you call husband will live. I have plans for him.”

My mouth is dry. I force my voice to work. “And if I refuse?”

His smile is slow and pitiless. “Then I burn this island until nothing is left but ash. And I will watch with delight as my men torture my brother to death before I stab him through the heart, since he was the coward who stabbed me in the back.”

You’re the coward,I want to spit. But Anton is serious, deadly serious. Tears blur my vision. Hot, angry, but most of all? Defeated.

Roman’s eyes lock on mine—bleeding, furious, desperate. “Valya.” His head lowers. Because he knows we have no choice. This is our island. We rule it. And we are responsible for everyone on it.

I can’t breathe. My lungs are splintering. I look at him and see my true husband, the man who fought for me since the first moment I set eyes on him, who fought for me years before, when I was just a vague transaction. The man who made me his queen and gave me a home, a family. I see Zina’s laugh, Mikhail’s loyalty, Roksana’s sharp green eyes—all the lives knotted together because of this place.

I hear my voice before I realize I’ve spoken. “I’ll do it.”

Roman roars, the sound torn from deep in his chest, trying toget to me again. They hold him down, one knee grinding into his wound until I see white in his face.

I rise, legs shaking, and meet Anton’s eyes. “Spare them all. Get him medical treatment. That’s my price.”

Anton’s smile deepens like I’ve just proven him right about everything. “Wise girl.” He straightens, glances at his men. “Get my brother patched up. I want him alive to watch.”

Roman spits blood, his glare molten. “You touch her, Anton, and I’ll cut your dick off. Slow. One slice at a time. You’ll beg for hell before I’m done with you.”

Anton doesn’t even glance back. “You’ll watch,” he says. “And she’ll learn.” He studies me for a beat, presses his lips into a sinister smile.

My chest caves in, even as I work to build armor around my heart.

His fingers cup my chin, tilting my face up—and before I can jerk away, his mouth is on mine. His lips are cold and claiming, not kissing.

I don’t close my eyes. I don’t give him the satisfaction. When he pulls back, I taste copper and rot.

“Bring him,” Anton orders, and two of his men step forward, dragging Roman to his feet. He’s barely standing, his shirt soaked through with blood, but he still manages to bare his teeth like he’ll tear out Anton’s throat the first chance he gets.

They haul him toward the house, and we enter the estate’s grand entryway, but Anton’s hand clamps around my wrist. “Not you, yet.”

I try to yank free, but his grip is iron. “Where are you taking him?”

“To the dungeon, of course.” He says it like it’s obvious, his smile flicking like a knife.

“We agreed he would?—”