Page 123 of Sire

“No, you thought you could deny your father, your role, your responsibility, as you always have, and now we have your nephew. What would your brother, Aleksi, say if he found out you sacrificedhisson and notyours?”

I can imagine Axel’s pain.

He’s my blood, my little brother who’d sleep with me when we were afraid. I can feel his rage. His suffocating ache. The painful instinct and urge for his child. I want to fall to my knees, dying for him. I love my brother. I love my?—

“What’s his name? My nephew?”

Viktor brags, “Lev, our little lion.”

“So help you God if you or Ruslan hurt him. I will behead?—”

He flicks his hand. “We would never harm an heir. We may need him. But he’s too small. We can’t take his kidney yet, so we’ll take yours.”

This is barbaric, savage, and my father’s hallmark. He doesn’t carewhowe are; it’swhatwe are to him. His blood. It’s all he cares about.

But I care about everyone else but myself. My blood is my grace, my redemption.

“I will give him my kidney in exchange for my nephew.”

Viktor scoffs, “It won’t be that simple.”

All the days I had to sit at my father’s feet, witnessing his wrath, I know…

“Oh, Viktor, death is very simple. But for my father? Finding a kidney isn’t. I know him. He won’t accept anything in his body that’s not his blood, and good fucking luck getting my brothers to give him a goddamn thing once they find out what’s at stake: their nephew.”

Viktor tapers his eyes. “Oh, but you won’t do that, Sergei. You know better. What about your beautiful mother, Queen Nadia? What about your other queens? Your nieces, nephews, and children one day? Kill us, and we will have them killed. You know this.”

My logic revolts. “You’d kill your own grandson?”

Viciously, he snarls, “Weallmeet our maker.”

This man is vile. Viktor used his daughter, raising her to be as ruthless as he is, sending her to seduce my brother. Only a heartless woman would take a child from a loving father. And now, he’s willing to sacrifice that child, all for money.

But I have the power—the blood.

“If my father wants a piece of me, let him kneel before me and fucking beg for it.”

“He is not well enough to travel.”

“Not my problem, Viktor. It’s yours. That’s why he paysyou the big bucks. You’re his little bitch-boy who cleans his mess.”

“Careful, Sergei.” Viktor rises. “You forget who you’re dealing with.”

“Yeah, you’re dealing with me.”

An angel’s voice calls across the sanctuary.

I whip my focus on him, to Wren, standing with the gun from her purse, pointed at Viktor.

“Lay a hand on my husband or my family, and I’ll put a bullet in your skull.” Wren squints one eye, her aim locked and loaded. “Or watch what you drink. Y’all like tea in Russia, right?”

“You would not be so foolish, young lady,” Viktor chides her.

But Wren laughs. “Time’s up, old White man. Only ladies followmen’srules, and I ain’t feeling lady-like.”

Jesus, Jesus. I’m so in love.

“Angel,” I beam with my gun drawn, too, “I know he’s standing on a blood red carpet, and your aim is true, but I don’t feel like cleaning brains off of bibles today.”