Page 60 of Dark Prince

I march to him until we’re standing toe to toe and I have to tip my head back to look him in the eyes. “Like I’ve done something wrong behind your back. Like—”

“Have you?” Ren interrupts.

I slap him across the face before it registers what I’ve done. Not that I’m sorry, because he deserved it. “I’ve only ever been with you, dumbass. I’ll die only ever having been with you.”

I want to slap him again, but I refrain. Laughter comes from behind me. Looking over my shoulder, I see it’s coming from my father. He stops when our matching eyes meet, but his lips remain spread apart.

“Dad,” I say like a curse word rolling off my tongue. I twist around to face him. “Stop smiling. It’s creepy. For once, be on my fucking side, dammit.”

“Sasha,” Dad barks, his tone sounding critical while his expression turns serious. “The boy took your innocence long before he married your defiant ass, yet he’s still breathing. Consider that me being on your side.”

“You owe me an explanation. Did I or did I not hear you, from your own mouth, promise to hand me over to Dimitri Sokolov on my twenty-fifth birthday?”

“The fuck!” Ren yells. He grips the waistband of my jeans, yanking me into his front. Next, his arm bands around me, just below my breasts. “She’s mine, Mischa.”

“Yes, psycho son-in-law, we’ve established that. There’s no take backs on that package unless you want to end up in a coffin instead.”

“Then what the hell did I hear, Dad?”

“You, daughter, obviously did not stick around to overhear the rest of the conversation.” My father sighs, looking worn down for the first time in my life, or maybe this is the first time I’m noticing the tiredness surrounding his eyes. “I allowed Ivan to lay out his request. I wanted to know exactly what he wanted, what he expected, what he thought I’d give over as if we were talking about a bottle of vodka. And then I told him the only way his son would ever lay one finger on my daughter would be if I were in the ground.”

“So, you didn’t arrange my marriage then?” Relief spreads through me but so does regret. I should have confronted my father instead of allowing my anger to fester all these years.

“I didn’t say that, Sasha,” he deadpans, making my reprieve short lived.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means he brokered a deal with me,” comes from behind us. It takes longer than it should for that voice to register. Turning, Tony stands in the entryway with . . . my mother.

My mouth gapes at the sight before me.

“There better be one hell of a reason for my wife to be in your arms, Caputo,” Dad says, venom laced in his tone with an edge of something else I can’t decipher.

“Ex-wife,” I correct, hating the prefix of that word as a sour taste coats the inside of my mouth.

“Tony, put me down already,” Mom says. “I was shot in the arm, not the leg.”

“You were what?” My dad stands.

“I’m fine, Mischa,” Mom assures him, but it’s then I take in her pretty face. She has fair skin like me, but her flesh looks pale, ashen even. Clearly, she’s in pain. “It’s just a flesh wound.”

“Domenico, get the wound kit,” Tony orders. “The bullet is still in her arm and needs to come out.”

“Oh, my god,” I say as Tony takes a step forward, Dad meeting him halfway.

“And vodka. Don’t forget the vodka, kid,” Mom adds as she wraps one arm around my dad’s shoulder while her other is tucked to her chest.

“Who did this, Kita? Who am I killing?” Dad’s chest vibrates with rage.

“As charming as that is, my love. I’m as capable of taking care of myself as you are.” Mom forces a smile.

“Nikita!” Dad seethes.

“He’s in an alley in the city with a gaping hole in his chest, Mischa.” Mom’s chest deflates as her side leans more into Dad’s chest. “He was just an errand boy sent by another. A nobody. Likely paid in cash if I had to guess.”

“You know who’s responsible, Mischa,” Tony speaks up. “You knew there would be backlash to taking out Ivan Sokolov and seventy percent of his men. While you thought he would go after Sasha, I had men watching Kita.”

“Why the fuck weren’t we told?” Krishna demands.

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