Page 101 of Captive Prize

When I walked into the room, Gregor’s jaw was set, his fist clenched on the table, and I knew all logic and reason were off the table.

“She’s a liability.” Gregor started right in, his words clipped. “There are only two options. We send her back to Russia penniless and reliant on her family, or we kill her. You know which one I prefer.”

“No.” I stood from my seat, my chair tipping and crashing to the hardwood floor behind me. I shouldn’t have stood. I shouldn’t have yelled.

I knew better. But when it came to her, I couldn’t think or act with my usual cold rationality.

“This is not your decision,” he snapped, rising to his feet and glaring at me.

I was sure he was intimidating to most. That glower was effective. But I wasn’t most people. I met his height. I matched his size. And from years of sparring, I knew I could take him.

It would be close—I’d lose a few teeth and take some brutal hits—but if the others stayed out of it, I had a good shot. Especially when I was fighting for her.

My hands curled into fists, waiting for him to make the first move. I was angry, irrational, but I wouldn’t strike first—unless he forced me.

I hadn’t fought my way through a bloodbath or nearly lost my mind searching for her just to have her ripped from me now.

Of course, this had to be the one issue that brought Gregor and Artem into agreement. For the first time in who knew how long, they stood united.

They both stared me down. The weight of their authority pressed down on me—suffocating.

But not nearly as suffocating as the thought of life without her.

For the first time since I was a child, I had no power here.

Ever since my mother died—and my father soon after—I had vowed never to be powerless again. Never to let anyone else’s decisions control my fate.

And yet, here I was.

I had no control, no leverage—and I couldn’t, wouldn’t, let that stand.

“Don’t be stupid about this,” Artem muttered, rubbing his temples like the conversation itself was giving him a headache. “We know you want her, but that’s not a good enough reason to keep her.”

I ground my teeth. How could they not understand?

Every single one of them was married—something they swore they’d never do. Not even for convenience or gain. But they had all married for love. Even if they hadn’t recognized it at the time.

Hell, they let their sister marry for love. That marriage should have come with an eight-figure dowry. Instead, she wed a penniless orphan with no name.

I didn’t begrudge Mikhail and Nadia their happiness—at least not until now, sitting here with the rest of the hypocrites trying to take mine from me.

“This isn’t about what I want,” I ground out.

Gregor scoffed, dismissive. “The hell it isn’t. You want to fuck her. She’s pretty and feisty. She’s the first woman who didn’t immediately throw herself into your bed, and now you think you get to keep her.”

The accusation stung.

I clenched my jaw, holding back a retort I’d regret.

What they were implying was completely wrong. Keeping her wasn’t about strategy, or lust, or pride.

It was her.

For the first time, I truly understood, deep in my bones, why my father had followed my mother in death.

“I won’t let you send her away,” I said quietly.

They stared at me. I took a breath, trying to rein in my fury. Threats wouldn’t work here. They were just as stubborn as I was.

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