Page 153 of Royal Bargain

He shakes his head. “Not unless I tell them to.”

We hold eye contact for a long second. And then I nod.

“We might’ve been enemies,” I say, lifting Ana into my arms. “But for now… we’re on the same side.”

She barely stirs in my arms. Her head lolls against my shoulder, warm but far too light. I clutch her tighter and head for the door.

Behind me, Anatoly doesn’t say goodbye, just mutters under his breath, like an old man reading the last line of a cursed play.

“God help us all.”

But before I can step through it, Anatoly speaks again—quiet, almost hesitant.

“Take care of my daughter.”

I stop. Look back.

He’s still seated, still the picture of the Bratva king he’s always been—but there’s something cracked behind his eyes now. Something soft. Something breaking.

“And my grandchild,” he adds. “Please.”

It’s the “please” that does it.

Not a demand. Not a threat. Just… a father asking another man to do what he can’t.

I nod, solemn. “I will.”

We hold each other’s gaze. For the first time, there’s no heat in it. No pride. Just the kind of understanding that only comes when the war has taken too much from both sides.

Anatoly dips his head once, slowly and heavily. I shift Ana carefully in my arms and step out into the hall, boots echoing on the floorboards, heart pounding against my ribs.

By the time I get to the car, my thoughts are spiraling.

How bad is she really? Will she be okay? Is Lily safe? Does she even know what’s happening?

But underneath the panic, the fear, the racing adrenaline, is a sliver of something else.

Relief.

Because for the first time, the lies are gone. The masks have dropped. Miranda’s true face is finally out in the open. And now we know exactly who we’re fighting.

I adjust Ana against me as the engine turns over, her weight pressing into my chest.

I’ve got you, I think, tightening my grip.

I’ve got both of you.

And I won’t let go.

43

ANNIKA

It’s been almost three weeks since that night at the safehouse.

The bruises are fading. The stitches are out. I’m walking again—slowly, with a limp Liam insists is “just temporary,” though I’m not convinced. The pain’s dulled to a background throb, and I’m not flinching every time I move, so I guess that counts as progress.

Liam, though… he’s not healing the same way.