3

Anatoli

Blood drains from Avrora Galitze's already pale skin when she hears my venomous words of objection.

As her full lips part in shock, I instantly think of her mouth around my cock, and I find myself smiling like the psycho I am.

I know how strange I must look to all the shocked people observing me, but I don't care. Stealing Avrora is just the beginning of what I plan to do.

My brother's betrothed is just a pretty emblem of his imminent defeat and the first of many trophies I will be taking.

There, there, Princess. This monster won't be eating you just yet. But I do plan to very soon.

Avrora is truly beautiful and tempting, even to a man like me who's had his fair share of women.

Her eyes are a bright crystal blue, like the Icelandic glaciers I love sailing around, and that hair of hers is cotton white like the old Norse paintings of Valkyries. There's a fire burning within those eyes that's fitting to the description, and I'd bet underneath that dainty princess exterior, she wishes she could claw my eyes out.

Or maybe she has other things in mind for me. I didn't miss the arousal that sparked in her gaze when she first looked at me. If she's the kind of girl who acts innocent on the outside but is secretly thinking of fucking, I'm game. The dress hugging her decadent body highlights all the parts of her that make a man think with his dick. I can't wait to force her to her knees and train her to please me.

The thought widens my wicked smile.

"Clearly, this is some fucked-up misunderstanding." Mikhail walks up to me with his hands balled into solid fists.

I was already prepared for him to challenge me. And I'm sure he didn't like the way I looked at his woman either. But even I have to accept that his reaction is completely understandable. Hearing you're about to lose everything to the half-brother you never knew about can't be easy. That's, however, as far as my consideration goes.

I'm four months older than him. That was my ticket to today. This motherfucker had everything I never did growing up.

He's about to find out how it feels to have those privileges taken away from him.

"I assure you, little brother, this is no misunderstanding." My voice is infused with mockery that makes his nostrils flare.

"Little brother?" With his fists raised, Mikhail steps into my personal space. A big mistake. If I didn't have a grand plan, he'd be dead. "Who the fuck do you think you're talking to?"

"Want to fight me?" I'm not here to fight, but God knows I'll gladly do it. "I assure you, you won't win."

Mikhail charges me, but Zakh and Malik grab his arms, holding him back.

At that moment, I see how similar we all look. We all have the same height, build, high cheekbones, and distinct facial features that make us look like brothers. We're also similar in age with Zakh being twenty-seven and Malik, twenty-six.

The only differences are our eye and hair color. Mikhail, Zakh, and I have the same dark hair, but Malik's is blond like his mother's. And I have my mother's eyes.

Despite the differences, one look at us tells you we're related.

"Fucking let me go," Mikhail snarls.

"Calm your damn self," Zakh chides, tightening his grip on Mikhail's arm.

"This asshole is no brother of mine." Mikhail glares at me.

"I don't like it either, but it is what it is." I smirk.

"We're going to need more of an explanation to stop this wedding," Aleksander interrupts us.

On his word, Uncle Leif—the real underdog of this siege—steps forward, fulfilling his final part inourplan. More shock registers on my brothers' faces when he walks up to Aleksander and whispers into his ear, telling him truths the others will eventually hear. For the moment, they know that Leif knew something they didn't.

If not for him, I'd be dead. He's my father's younger brother and the only ally Mom and I had. It was him who rescued me.

When we were being hunted, Mom called him for help.

Leif was too late to save her, but he didn't stop looking until he found me. It was nothing short of some miracle that he got to me before the monster burned me alive. I didn't, however, escape unharmed.

Everyone watches his exchange with Aleksander with curiosity, taking note of Aleksander's reactions. The widening of his eyes, the displeasure intensifying on his haggard face, and finally a nod.

He looks at everyone else, including the guests in the congregation. "This wedding will be postponed until further notice," he announces, causing audible gasps to ripple across the room like a Mexican wave making its way through a crowded stadium. Aleksander then flicks his gaze back to me. "I expect a report once this matter is resolved."

The order is another stab in Mikhail's heart because he knows it will be me who gets the Sovientrik—second-in-command—position in the Komarovski. Not him.

Just. Like. Everything. Else.

"Yes, Pakhan." I bow my head with reverence, and Aleksander's eyes drift down to the tattoo on my wrist, where his gaze lingers.

All the men in the Knights who pass The Reaping at the age of sixteen receive the Viking Futhark rune for defense tattooed on the underside of their wrist. They then receive the Greek Sigma symbol once they're initiated into the Brotherhood. I have neither because not only should no one know of my existence and lineage, but I was supposed to die that night seventeen years ago.

The tattoo I have on my wrist is of Odin's rune, which means the training I received and rites I have undertaken surpass all others, even Aleksander's. My mark tells him he just barely has power over me because if I wanted to, I could challenge his position and take everything from him, too. Since I haven't, I'm sure he knows it's better to be on my right hand than my left.

Aleksander gives me a curt nod then disappears through the exit behind him.

With his departure, the tension increases. Good. It's show time, and all the key players are here. There's the princess, who is still glaring at me, Mikhail, who looks like he's about to summon the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, Zakh and Malik, who wear the same questioning expressions, Mira— the wife —who has gone ghostly white, and last but never least, Uther.