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"Pavel’s not some reckless boy in love anymore—he’s the Pakhan now. He commands an army of killers. You think he’ll hesitate to harm you the moment he senses betrayal?” “I’m not afraid of him.” I reassure my brother. “You should be,” he snaps. “You have no idea what he’s become. The things he’s done.” His jaw ticks. “I’ve seen the bodies, sestra. Men tortured for less than a stray look. You step into that chapel, you’re not walking down the aisle—you’re walking into a den of wolves wearing white.” I swallow hard but don’t let my voice shake. “You’re not going to lose me.” “It’s not your courage I doubt,” he says, softer now, but no less intense. “You’ve always been the brave one. The stubborn one. But this... this is a suicide mission. And for what? To satisfy some—” “This isn’t about vengeance,” I cut in sharply. “This is about survival. About protecting Ana.” Vlad flinches at her name. “If Pavel finds out he has a daughter,” I continue, voice low and trembling with fury, “he’ll take her from me like she’s a prize to claim. He’ll raise her in that cold empire of his, mold her into one of them. She won’t be safe. She won’t be mine.” I look him dead in the eye. “You want to protect me? Then understand this: I’m not doing this for revenge. I’m doing it because if that man draws one more breath, everything I love stays in danger.” Vlad’s eyes darken with a swirl of pain and pride. He reaches for me, pulling me into a tight embrace that smells of cedar and home. “I just… I’ve already lost too much, little sister. I can’t lose you too.” His voice breaks on the last word. I squeeze his hand, then cradle his cheek. “You won’t. By this time next week, Pavel Fetisov will be gone, and Ana will have the future she deserves. One where she’s free.” He nods, though his throat works with the effort of holding back words he doesn’t say. The doubt lingers in his eyes, but he lets me go. “Come on,” I whisper, straightening my spine. “You’ve got a sister to give away.” A faint, bitter smile tugs at his lips. “Yeah… to a monster.” “To his execution,” I correct softly. “He just doesn’t know it yet.” And with that, we walk toward the chapel—where vows will be spoken, secrets buried, and blood, if needed, will be spilled. I grip Vlad’s arm tightly as we step into the hallway, my nerves twisting into a tight, merciless knot. My stomach churns, threatening to rebel, but I hold my head high. Despite my tough talk, I am scared. My brother is right. There are all sorts of ways this plan could go awry. But this is no time for weakness, not when I’m walking into the lion’s den, wrapped in white satin, pretending to be a willing lamb. Vlad’s presence is steady beside me, his hand resting lightly over mine. When we reach the entrance to the chapel, I pause. My grip tightens on Vlad’s arm. A faint murmur of voices filters through the wooden doors, and my breath hitches. “It’s time,” Vlad says quietly. “It’s not too late, you know. You could still play runaway bride and vanish into the wind.” A dry chuckle escapes him. “I’ll just tell everyone I tried to stop you.” Despite the storm inside me, I manage a faint smile. “No. I’m seeing this through.” He nods slowly, his eyes scanning my face like he’s memorizing it. Like he’s afraid it’s the last time he’ll see me whole. “Well then…” he says, voice tight with emotion. “Good luck, sestra.” He rests a hand over mine—one last, silent plea for safety— Then turns and pushes the chapel doors open. And just like that, there’s no turning back. The chapel is grand—vaulted ceilings, sunlight pouring through stained glass like blessings I don’t deserve. But only one side of the pews is full. My side, the Andreevs, is a ghost town. Most of my family refused to attend, unwilling to witness what they see as treason wrapped in lace. The Fetisovs are here in full force. A silent wall of dark hair and ice-blue eyes. Predators dressed in designer suits. Their gazes pin me in place like I’m already prey. Then I see him. At the altar. Pavel doesn’t move as I walk. His stillness is its own kind of violence—controlled, calculating, absolute. The room bends around his gravity, as if every soul inside knows: nothing happens here unless he allows it. Standing tall—calm, confident, dangerous. Power clings to him like a second skin. His suit fits like temptation, the rich fabric hugging broad shoulders and tapering over a body I still remember too well. His dark hair is laced with silver now, a cruel evolution that only sharpens his appeal. His jaw flexes when he sees me. It’s subtle—so fast I almost miss it—but it’s there. A shadow of something old. Pain. Possession. Loss. Then it’s gone, replaced with that familiar mask of cold command. A wave of heat rises in me—sharp, shameful. My thighs clench. God, not now. I hate the way my body remembers his. How he once moved inside me, slow then punishing, a rhythm designed to ruin. How he whispered filth in Russian while I came undone in his arms. Six years. Six years, and my body still burns for the man who destroyed my life. Beside him, Piotr plays the role of devoted ally, smiling at the man he’s marked for death. His mask is flawless, a performance honed over years of lies and shared vodka toasts. I grip Vlad’s hand like a lifeline. “You good?” he asks, voice low, tense. “I’m fine,” I lie. I force my gaze away from Pavel—to the high arches, the flowers, anything but him. But I can feel it. The heat of his stare dragging over my skin like a promise. My pulse stutters. Anger blooms in my chest. Why couldn’t time have ravaged him? Why does he have to look like temptation dipped in silk? Why does he still smell like cedar and winter and ruin? This is the man who stole my parents. The man who made me a mother in hiding. He should repulse me. But my body—traitorous and weak—wants him still. As we reach the altar, Vlad releases my arm. His fingers linger for just a beat longer than necessary before he steps aside. Pavel’s eyes lock onto mine. My knees wobble beneath the weight of his gaze. There’s something in his eyes I can’t place—something old. Like he’s lived a thousand lives and buried all of them. Or maybe it’s just regret, twisted into something cold and sharp. “Kat,” he says. His voice is low and rough—gravel and smoke. It slices right through me. Forget him. Forget me. He threads his fingers through mine, the gesture intimate—claiming. A snare wrapped in affection. I refuse to look away. His expression is unreadable, but there’s a flicker in his eyes—a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Arrogant man. He thinks he still owns me. The officiant begins to speak, but the words blur, meaningless. All I can feel is the warm pressure of his hand in mine… And the maddening graze of his thumb across my palm. It’s soft. Repetitive. Designed to disarm. It works. Heat coils low in my belly. No. I steel my spine. Remember. My parents. Ana. The years I spent living like a ghost while he built his empire. Then, Pavel leans in, breath warm against my cheek. “You’re breathtaking, Malyshka,” he murmurs. “I’ve imagined you in white for six years...” His thumb drags slowly across my palm—reverent, possessive—like he’s reacquainting himself with sacred ground. I squeeze his hand tighter. Let him think it’s longing. Let him think I’m still his. The deeper he falls back into this fantasy— The easier it’ll be to slip the poison past his lips. Find out what happens in Sinful Union. Available on Kindle Unlimited: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0F8RHMHH5