Ruthless Princess: Claimed by Blood and Sinful Desire

8: The Price of Power

The handle of my bedroom door turns, but this time, there’s no polite knock. No charming brother with a fruit tray.

Two guards burst in. They don't speak. They don't look at me. They just cross the room in three strides and grab my arms.

"Hey!" I shout, yanking back. "Let go of me!"

It’s like trying to fight a forklift. Their grip is iron. They haul me off the bed and drag me toward the door, my sneakers squeaking on the hardwood.

"My father wants you downstairs," one of them grunts.

"I don't care what he wants!" I dig my heels into the carpet, but they just lift me off my feet. "Put me down, you gorillas!"

They ignore me. They march me down the hallway, past the silent portraits of ancestors I don't know, and down the grand marble staircase. My heart is hammering against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat of fear and rage.

They drag me to a set of double doors tall enough for a giant. One guard kicks them open.

They throw me inside. literally throw me.

I stumble, catching myself on the back of a heavy wooden chair before I hit the floor. I spin around, hair wild, chest heaving.

"Sit," a voice commands.

I look up.

The room is dominated by a mahogany table that looks like a coffin. At the head sits Dimitris Kostas. My father. He’s perfectly still, his hands clasped on the polished wood.

Down the sides of the table sit my brothers. Nikos, looking grim. Andreas, avoiding my eyes. Leo, playing with a switchblade. And two others I haven't met—twins, dark-haired and identical, watching me with cold curiosity.

Five sons. And one stolen daughter.

"I said sit," Dimitris repeats. His voice isn't loud. It doesn't have to be. It carries the weight of a gavel sentence.

"I'll stand," I snap, straightening my spine. My side throbs where the bullet grazed the car yesterday, but I won't show weakness. Not to them. "What is this? A trial?"

"A council," Dimitris says. "And you are the agenda."

He gestures to the empty chair at the foot of the table. Opposite him. The accused.

"The attack on the highway changed the timeline," he says, his green eyes boring into mine. "The Vasilakis family has moved openly against us. They have breached the truce."

"That sounds like a 'you' problem," I say. "I want to go home."

"You are home," Nikos says quietly. "And you're a target. If you leave this house, you're dead within the hour."

"Then let me take my chances," I shoot back. "I'd rather be dead than be a prisoner in this... this museum."

"Enough," Dimitris says. The word slaps the air. "We do not have time for teenage tantrums. We are at war. And to win a war, we need weapons. We need access to the southern ports. We need the Nikolaides alliance."

He stands up. He looks tired. But mostly, he looks ruthless.

"Thanos Nikolaides is a greedy man," Dimitris says, walking slowly around the table toward me. "He does not trust contracts. He does not trust money. He trusts blood."

My stomach drops. I know where this is going. I heard it in the hallway, but hearing him say it to my face makes the bile rise in my throat.

"He demands a bond," Dimitris continues. "A union to merge our territories and secure our supply lines."

He stops in front of me.

"You will marry the Nikolaides underboss."

The room goes silent. Even Leo stops clicking his knife.

I stare at him. I wait for the punchline.

"No," I say. It comes out as a whisper, then louder. "No."

"The contract is already drafted," Dimitris says, like he's discussing a shipping manifest. "The wedding will take place in one month."

"I am not a contract!" I scream. The rage explodes out of me, hot and blinding. "I am a person! You can't just sell me like... like cattle to some thug I've never met!"

"It is done, Alina."

"It is not done!" I step into his space, fueled by pure adrenaline. "I will not say 'I do.' I will not sign anything. I will scream at the altar. I will run. I will burn this whole house down before I let you sell me!"

"You will do your duty," Dimitris says, his voice dropping to a terrifying growl. "You are a Kostas. We do not marry for love. We marry for power. You will secure this family's future, or you will watch it burn. Those are your choices."

"Then let it burn," I hiss, tears stinging my eyes. "I hate you. I hate this family."

"Hate me all you want," he says coldly. "But you will obey."

"I won't," I sob, backing away. "I won't do it."

"You don't have a choice."

He looks past me. Toward the heavy double doors behind my back.

"He's here."

I freeze.

The doors don't just open. They swing wide with a force that creates a draft, sucking the air out of the room.

The silence that falls over the table isn't respectful. It’s fearful.

I turn around slowly.

A man stands in the doorway.

He’s huge. Taller than my brothers. Broader. He’s wearing a black suit that fits his frame like armor. But it’s not his size that makes my blood run cold.

It’s the aura coming off him. It’s pure, distilled violence.

He steps into the room, and the temperature drops ten degrees. He doesn't look at Dimitris. He doesn't look at the brothers.

His dark, dead eyes lock onto mine. And for the first time in my life, I know what it feels like to be prey.