CZAR

“Kidnap, Czar?” Eiran said while watching me slice a man’s finger like I’m just cutting my steak. “You refused the alliance because you didn’t want extra responsibility, but you’re ready for war that comes with even more responsibility? You know there will be war if you steal the De Greco princess. The alliance was a better choice, Czar. We would have more power against the Montevals, but you don’t want that. But fighting against two groups is fine with you?"

My brows furrowed. “Why? Do you think we can’t handle it? I’m still capo if you forget. I won’t make decisions if we can’t handle it. We’re not sacrificing anyone just to get what we want.”

His expression darkened, and my hand gripped the knife tighter. “You better not. You’re a different capo, Czar. You’re not our father.”

Along with his anger was my more brutal cutting of the man’s fingers. The man screamed as he watched his fingers separate from his hand one by one.

“He’s not our father, Eiran…”

“I’ll pay! Please stop!” The man was hoarse from shouting in desperation for some time now. But everyone we drag into this basement knows that their pleas are futile. The Levesque have no mercy.

Deep colors of red splashed on my face. Eiran smirked when he saw my expression. I must look like I want to stick out my tongue and lick it—that's exactly how I feel.

“Hands that borrow but do not return don’t get to stay intact,” I muttered to the man as if soothing him to sleep.

The man’s body tensed.

“If you won’t pay then don’t even try to borrow money from us,” were my last words before I killed him.

I called for someone to clean up after my work.

When they came in, I stood up and wiped the blood off my jeans.

“Take photos. Show the entire city what happens when they don’t pay on time,” I commanded firmly before exiting.

I gathered all of my trusted people and told them about the plan. Eiran had been sneering the whole time but was still listening. That’s his problem if he doesn’t agree.

“Our private plane is still in repair,” Eiran reminded me.

I eyed him. “Are we bankrupt? Penniless?”

He smirked then shook his head with pride.

“What are we, Eiran?” I asked.

“Millionaires? Billionaires? Trillionaires, even,” he answered boastfully.

“Whatever the highest form of millions there is,” I affirmed. “If a plane cannot function, then buy another.”

Alaric raised an eyebrow. A teasing smile appeared on his face. “What a lucky girl. Flying back and forth for her. Even buying a private plane just to kidnap her.”

I glared at him from across the room since we were at opposite ends. Eiran and Adonis laughed. The other soldiers present here wouldn’t even try to laugh at me. They know what will happen to them.

“This is not for her, Alaric. This is my retribution. The De Greco disrespected me. I’m just doing the same. And imagine how humiliated the Montevals will be if his bride does not show up for him.”

The image of what I just said made me feel like a king on his throne.

AVALINE

“Just suck in your stomach!” Morana said for the ninth time. I swear my face looks like a freaking red tomato from all the sucking in I did.

“There’s nothing left to suck in, Morana,” I choked on my breath and coughed. “If I hold my breath any longer, you won't be going to a wedding; you'll be going to a wake!” I pulled myself away from Morana and took a deep breath. The zipper opened simultaneously with my exhale.

Morana slapped her forehead.

“If you hadn’t stress-eaten yesterday, your dress would fit better,” she said.

I rolled my eyes. Does one day of stress eating really make a difference? You don’t get fat overnight. In my twenty-seven years of existence, I haven't eaten excessively and I've exercised enough not to gain weight. I just indulged yesterday.

“I’m not fat! The dress is just really small! Even if I hadn’t eaten too much yesterday, it still wouldn’t fit me,” I went to my closet. Why do I even need a new dress? I have so many here that I've only worn once, so they still feel new.

I came out of the walk-in closet holding my v-neck long sleeve pencil dress. I'm not celebrating anything. It’s doomsday, so why should I dress up?

Morana shook her head disapprovingly. Not that I care about her opinion. Who is she anyway? Fashion is not her strong suit, so I really question why Dad asked her to assist me. Maybe Dad has fallen under her spell. At least I won’t be here to witness Morana’s victory as my soon-to-be stepmother.

The De Greco and Montevals are celebrating their alliance while I'll be celebrating my freedom if I successfully pull off this escape.

“This one is prettier!” she lifted the burgundy spaghetti-strapped sequin evening gown with a slit that I've been trying to fit into.

I sighed, exasperated. Can I kick her out? Dad will pay her with his salary, so that’s enough consolation.

“Why do you insist on that when it won’t even fit? You’re dressing a person, Morana, not a stick,” I stubbornly replied. “Who even chose that? It’s not my size.”

“It’ll look better if it fits more closely to show off your curves. And the neckline is lower too. Don’t you want your fiancé to be happy with what you're wearing?” She’s now posing as we look at ourselves in the mirror.

My laptop on the bed chimed. I immediately ran over to check it while Morana continued chattering away.

6 PM. Behind the restroom.

That’s where the driver I hired will pick me up. I manipulated our guest list and added a different name to it so that if the driver is questioned, he would just give that name and say he’s there for me to let him in.

“It seems you’re forgetting the true foundation of this marriage, Morana,” I said while turning off my laptop. “It’s a marriage of convenience, not love. So I don’t care whether he likes what I'm wearing or not.”

The engagement will take place here in another one of our properties in Yekaterinburg. The venue was well done, featuring marbled floors, elegant arches, luxurious light fixtures, and sophisticated hues of red, black, brown, and white.

I held onto my father’s arm as we descended the stairs. It was evident that the two organizations were rivals; wherever you glanced, you’d see wary looks exchanged between them. Even with the promise of truce, they looked ready to reach for their guns and start a bloodbath.

Good news, everyone! Soon you'll be rivals again. The marriage won’t happen if the bride is gone.

Dad's arm was tense under my hand. Is he guilty? Or having second thoughts? But that’s impossible; he never doubts his decisions. Maybe I'm just reading too much into it. Perhaps he just feels the same tension as everyone else because our rivals are here—he's just being alert.

Right.

My stomach coiled. I felt his gaze before I even landed my eyes on him.

Pascal Monteval. Jesus! He was old enough to be my father. He looks twice my age. What a sight, but I don’t feel safe. One look and I know that any woman associated with him will be his doormat. This is a man who likes you to jerk and move at the snap of his fingers.

His hair is dark blond. It’s somewhat long but styled with gel to look neat. He’s also bearded and has tan skin.

His eyes roamed my body. It felt like he was cursing or whispering something to each part because my hairs stood on end. But instead of admiration or desire, he looked back up and gave me a predatory grin. Like I was his possession.

I shivered. Possession is worse than admiration. This only affirmed my decision. Earlier, in the back of my mind, I had also thought about what I would do if I didn’t succeed in my plans. If they caught me and still went on with the wedding, I thought I might just accept it. It would be better that way, wouldn’t it, if we didn’t care about each other? He wouldn’t feel the need to build walls around me. We’d have a mutual agreement and be civil.

But the look he’s giving me right now? I’ll be his sex slave in no time.

The men were silent. Only the women had the urge to whisper to each other while looking at me. Gossiping is what they do daily. When you don’t have your own life, all you have left to do is talk about others’. They must be pitying me right now or envying me for marrying a capo.

“Avaline De Greco,” he announced as if I were on center stage and everyone should look.

My father shook hands with him. Pascal simply stared at my father's outstretched hand. He raised an eyebrow and lifted one corner of his mouth.

He looked at the man next to him, whom I assumed was his second-in-command, and they both laughed while glancing at my father's hand. My brow twitched, and I wanted to lash out at them.

We are not their subjects! This is an alliance, not a takeover.

I couldn’t help but show my reaction anymore. I cleared my throat to make my displeasure known.