“Yes,” he replies. “But I’ll take all of you down with me. Are you willing to have all these lives on your hands, Renata? Are you willing to die? Are you willing to allow your child to die?”
“Don’t listen to him,” I hiss at Renata.
But his words have already pierced through her. Her eyes go wide with shock as she realizes that Rokiades has kept an ace up his sleeve the whole time.
“You’re the only one with the power to stop me, darling,” Rokiades continues in a sickly-sweet tone. “You know what you need to do.”
She looks down for a moment and I notice her hands clench into fists.
“Renata—”
“You still want me to marry you,” she says, cutting me off.
“Exactly,” Rokiades replies. “I will even spare your child if you agree to it.”
Renata glances at me. Of course, he notices.
“Tsk-tsk. Now, you’re asking for too much. There has to be a consequence. Kian O’Sullivan will not be allowed to live.” He turns his gaze to me. “What do you say, Irishman? Are you willing to die for your men?”
Cillian grabs my arm. “Don’t you fucking dare. You’re no martyr.”
I give him a smile. “Sometimes, being a don means making tough decisions. You’re the one who taught me that, brother.”
“You pick that fucking lesson now? Out of all my wisdom over the years?”
I give him a nod I hope is reassuring and turn to Rokiades. “It is my duty as don to die for my men if I have to,” I announce solemnly. “I’ll do what I must.”
“Renata?” Rokiades presses.
She turns to me, her eyes swimming with tears. Uncaring of the legion of men we’re surrounded by, she reaches up and cups my face with both her hands.
“I’m sorry,” she says.
I shake my head. “Don’t be,” I say fiercely. “You have been the adventure of my life.”
A tear falls. I reach up and press my finger against the little silver scar on her cheek.
“I gave you this, and I’m sorry for that. But,” I add, turning my finger to the thin scar over my own eyebrow, “you gave me this, and I want to thank you for that. For fighting so hard. I never saw the knife coming.”
She frowns, a ripple of confusion passing over her face.
“Renata!” Rokiades roars. “I don’t like to be kept waiting. Come.”
She holds my gaze for a moment longer. Then she starts to walk around the table.
“Bring him with you,” the Greek commands.
She glances back warily. I move to join her.
“No,” Cillian growls, getting in my way.
“Brother—”
“You can’t fucking do this!”
“I can’t let you die,” I tell him. “You’ve got a family to love. You’ve got the Clan to run. So does Artem. We cannot let him win.”
“We’ll find another way.”