Page 85 of Relentless Knight

“Today?” Lucian presses.

“Today,” I agree, my throat tight, my heart pounding.

“Ti, no,” Natasha pleads, trying to take a step forward.

I can see the remorse in her eyes. She feels responsible for what’s happening, but she’s not. I’m the one who let her sneak onto Lucian’s compound. I’m the one who allowed her to walk straight into a trap. And I won’t let her suffer the consequences for my poor judgment. Killian was right. I never should have granted her permission to go in alone. And now, I’m going to face the consequences of my miscalculation because that’s what a truepakanshashould do. That’s what my father would have expected of me.

“Done,” Lucian says, bringing a ringing sense of finality to the negotiations. “Why don’t you come untie your sister, then? And you and I can head to the church together?”

The church? He can’t possibly intend to marry me today? Now? Could he?But I can’t back out of the agreement. Not without jeopardizing Natasha’s safety. So, chin held high, I stalk coolly up the gravel drive and climb the terrace steps. And all the while, I feel as though I’m walking willingly toward my death.

The only thing keeping me on my feet is the hope that Natasha will be safe.

And when the deed is done, I will kill Lucian myself.

I’ve never taken a man’s life before. I abhor the sight of blood. But I don’t know how else to live with my decision. I’m going to kill Lucian Agosti. If it’s the last thing I do.

“Ti, please,” Natasha whispers as I climb the final step. “Go back. It’s not too late. Nothing is worth that sacrifice.”

With a soft smile, I stop in front of my sister and reach down to untie her bindings. “You are,” I promise. I would do anythingfor my sister. I love her more than anyone else on this planet. And with our parents dead and gone, it’s my responsibility to protect her.

I know Natasha thinks she’s the strong one. But I won’t let her die. If Lucian’s right about one thing, it’s that my pride is not worth her life. My pride isn’t worth anyone’s life. Not my sister’s, not the Sokolov men under my protection.

“And so are all the men Father entrusted to my care,” I add. “If this is what it takes to keep you all safe, then this is what I’ll do.”

Natasha’s restraints fall to the ground, and she throws her arms around my shoulders, pulling me close as she bites back a sob. And I swallow the painful lump in my throat as I give her a gentle squeeze before pulling back. Then I cup my younger sister’s chin in my hand. “Go to your husband, sister.”

“I love you,” Natasha murmurs. She squares her shoulders, and her feet pick up their pace as she races down the steps.

Her new Irish husband rushes forward to meet her, sweeping her into his embrace, and only then does the icy fist around my chest relax. My sister’s safe. Killian will protect her. And he damn well better continue to cherish her if I can’t be around to make sure of it.

“Killian,” I say, lifting my voice commandingly. “You be good to her.”

Killian gives me one solemn nod, the look of gratitude in his eyes reassuring me that his feelings for Natasha run so deep, I will never need to worry about her in his care.

My men, on the other hand, need a leader to protect them. To give them the order that will stop the bloodshed and save their lives. I only hope they won’t mutiny against me for my choice. I know Bratva men hate weakness. And surrendering to the enemy is about as cowardly as it gets in their eyes. I was already clinging to my new reign by a threat. This might be the straw thatbreaks the camel’s back. After today, I might not have an army to rule—even if Lucian is willing to let me keep my title.

Heart hammering against my ribcage, I command authoritatively, “Muzhchiny, idite domoy,” telling my men to go home.

And to my intense relief, as one, the Sokolov men gather our dead, hoisting them in our vehicles before they depart. The Kings follow, and as the driveway empties, I finally feel like I can breathe again. No matter what happens to me now, I’ve done all I can to protect the people I swore to lead and defend.

“Come,principessa,” Lucian says smoothly beside me, offering his elbow like a gentleman—though we both know he’s about as far from that as a man can get. “Let’s find you a suitable wedding dress.”

Icy horror grips my chest once more at his words. And I feel the bars of my prison closing in around my freedom. This is the fate my father worked so hard to avoid. He didn’t want his daughters trapped in a loveless marriage. Hell, I’m pretty sure my father would have preferred if neither of us ever married—because he didn’t believe any man was worthy of us.

But I trust that Natasha loves Killian. And even if he doesn’t deserve her, I know my sister’s husband would do anything to make her happy. That will have to be enough. I suppose in our world, if one good marriage can come out of a family, it’s better than most Bratva daughters could hope for.

And even if my marriage is miserable, I won’t lose the empire my father poured all his blood, sweat, and tears into building into what it is today.

Cool air washes over me as Lucian guides me into the luxurious mansion occupying the vast majority of the compound’s acreage. And I’m stunned by the beautiful rustic, classic Italian decor of his grand home. Exposed wood beams extend across the vaulted ceilings, with cream-colored wallsand terracotta floors. Rather than doors, archways connect each room, creating a smooth, flowing feel to the elegant space. And though I’ve never been to Italy, I imagine this is exactly how it would feel to step inside some Roman palace or Florentine estate.

My feet hesitate as I take in the beautiful entry, and I can tell Lucian observes my unquenchable awe by the way he pauses to smirk at me.

“Not what you were expecting?” he teases lightly.

“Honestly, I was picturing dungeons and torture chambers to go along with your black heart,” I state scathingly.

Lucian gives a low chuckle, and the deep sound of his amusement vibrates through my bones, raising the hair on the nape of my neck at the same time as it makes my stomach coil with a strange warmth.

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