"The alliance was already sealed," Runes cuts him off. "My daughter for your protection."
"Your daughter for my son," my mother corrects coolly. "Let's not pretend this is just about protection. This is about survival, about putting both of our forces together. Yours and ours."
I watch Revna during this exchange.
She sits straight-backed, chin up, playing the part of dutiful daughter while her mind clearly races.
Working angles, I'd bet. Looking for leverage.
"Two weeks," I announce. "The wedding happens in two weeks."
"That's too soon—" someone starts.
"Two weeks," I repeat. "Unless you'd like to lose more prospects while we debate timelines?"
Runes looks at Revna. "Baby girl?"
She stands, and the room holds its breath.
This is her moment—accept gracefully or fight publicly.
Her mother is standing in the corner, hands shaking, obviously angry about what’s been agreed.
"Two weeks works," she says clearly. Then, surprising everyone: "But I have conditions."
The room erupts.
Shouting about knowing her place, about how this deal was already made.
I let it wash over me, watching her weather it like a storm.
"Enough!" Runes slams his hand on the table. "Let her speak."
"I’ve already spoken to Doran about these conditions, but I’m letting you all know as well. I will finish my law degree at UF, not some random school. I maintain my own residence until graduation. And—" she looks directly at me—"I want it in writing that my sister is protected but not bartered. Ever."
Smart girl.
Getting Dalla's safety locked down publicly.
"Done," I say before anyone else can speak.
"Just like that?" She's suspicious.
"Just like that."
My father clears his throat. "Perhaps we should discuss the full terms?—"
"Perhaps," Revna interrupts—actually interruptstheAleksandr Volkolv, which makes my mother hide a smile—"weshould discuss why two boys are dead and what exactly this alliance protects our people against."
The room goes silent again.
Different quality this time—surprise rather than anger.
"The Culebra cartel," Runes says slowly, "has been moving north. They want?—"
"They want revenge against your clubs for the actions made in the past. But they want more than that. They want Florida." I take over. "The ports, the distribution routes, the connection to both Atlanta and the Caribbean. With the Italians gone and the Mexicans scattered, it's open territory."
"And you'll stop them?" Revna asks me directly.