Page 99 of Royal Bargain

My mouth opens, but she holds up a hand.

“They’re watching you, Ana. People who don’t answer to Anatoly. People who don’t care that you’re his daughter. People who’ve been tracking your movements since the moment you stepped out of that Irishman’s apartment.”

A chill lances down my spine.

I whirl on her, my voice sharper than I mean it to be. “Then who is it?”

Sasha frowns. “I told you?—”

“No,” I snap. “You haven’t told me. No one will. Everyone keeps saying it’s not him. That it’s not Papa. But every threat I’ve gotten? Every warning? Every time I look over my shoulder—his shadow is the one I see.”

She opens her mouth, but I barrel on.

“I need to hear it. I need someone—anyone—to just say the damn words out loud. Is it him? Is it my father who wants me dead?”

My voice cracks on the last word, the fury burning hot under my skin, the betrayal eating through my ribs like acid.

“I know I left. I know I broke his heart. But if that was enough to send a death squad after his own daughter, then I need to hear it. I need to know what kind of man raised me.”

Sasha looks at me like she’s seeing all the bruises I’ve kept hidden.

Then, quietly, she says, “It’s not him.”

I blink. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because I know who it is.”

I wait a moment, and she closes her eyes, breathing slowly before opening them again. “It’s Dariy.”

The name hits like a strike to the chest. I blink at her, unable to speak at first.

“No,” I murmur. “No, it can’t be Dariy. He’s just—he’s Anatoly’s second. He follows orders.”

Sasha shakes her head. “Not anymore. He gives them now.”

My heart thuds painfully in my chest. “But why?”

She looks at me. “Because he believes you’re a threat to everything the bratva stands for. And because convincing Papa of that gave him more power than he ever had under obedience.”

I take a step back, trying to breathe through the sudden cold that settles in my bones. My mind is racing, flipping through memories I’d long pushed aside.

Dariy at family dinners—quiet, watchful, always one step behind Anatoly

Dariy showing up unannounced the day I told Papa I was done performing for his friends, saying nothing but watching me with those unreadable eyes.

Dariy standing behind Papa the night I stormed out, saying nothing, not even blinking.

At the time, I thought he was just another loyal soldier. Another piece of the machine.

But maybe that’s what he wanted me to think.

And suddenly, I’m seeing everything differently. Every threat, every closed door, every warning. Every time someone told me I was being paranoid.

Maybe I wasn’t.

Maybe I wasn’t paranoid enough.

I press a hand to my stomach, nausea roiling through me.