Page 95 of The Pakhan’s Unwanted Bride

She nods against my chest, then steps back to give me space. "What do you need?"

"Get your father, and both of you meet me in the library in twenty minutes." I move toward the door, already shifting into the cold, calculated mindset of a Pakhan who has business to handle. "It's time to take the offensive."

Twenty minutes later, I stand at the head of the table with Ana on my right and Ivan on my left. One of my captains sits across from us, his expression serious as he waits for orders. The man has been with me for fifteen years, survived three territory wars, and never once questioned my authority or judgment.

"Begin infiltrating the secret organization targeting the Rostova family," I tell him. At least Gregory's notes gave us somewhere to start. We now know that it is an organization that's been around for centuries with the purpose of getting rid of the Rostova family. "Use whatever resources you need. I want to know who leads them, where they operate, and what their endgame is."

The captain nods slowly, processing the magnitude of what I'm asking. "And if we find Gregory?"

"Bring him back alive." My voice is hard, leaving no room for argument. "I want answers before we declare war." I want to know why he chose to betray me, who recruited him, and what they promised him in exchange for his loyalty.

"Understood." The captain stands and gives a respectful nod. "I'll begin immediately."

After he leaves, Ivan leans back in his chair and studies me with those sharp eyes that miss nothing. "An enemy that's survived for centuries won't reveal itself easily. They've stayed hidden this long for a reason."

"I know." I cross my arms over my chest.

"They also have Gregory," Ana adds quietly. "He knows your organization too well. He knows all your security measures as well as any weaknesses."

"Then change things up," I say firmly. "We don't give them time to use what Gregory knows."

Ivan nods his approval, but Ana looks troubled. I can see the worry in her eyes, the fear that this war will cost us more than we may expect. I reach over and take her hand, squeezing gently.

"Come with me," I tell her. "Both of you. There's something I need to show you."

I lead them to my private office, the one room where even my most trusted men aren't allowed without permission. I move to the bookshelf and press a hidden mechanism. A section swings open silently, revealing a compartment.

Inside, resting on a bed of black velvet, is the ancient Galkin family sword. The blade is old, the metal darkened with age, but the edge is still sharp and deadly. The hilt is wrapped in worn leather, and the pommel bears the Galkin crest, a double-headed eagle with wings spread wide. This sword has been passed from Pakhan to Pakhan for generations, a symbol of our family's sacred duty and unbreakable oath.

I lift the sword carefully from its resting place, feeling the familiar weight of it in my hands. The balance is perfect, the craftsmanship extraordinary.

"This has been in my family for longer than anyone can remember," I tell them, my voice quiet with reverence. "It represents the oath we took, the promise to guard the royal family with our lives. Every Galkin Pakhan who came before me held this sword and renewed that vow."

Ivan's expression is solemn, understanding the significance of what I'm showing them. But Ana looks confused, uncertain why I've brought them here to see a family heirloom.

I turn to face her fully, holding the sword horizontally across both palms. "No one outside the Galkin bloodline has ever been trusted to hold this sword. Not in all the generations it's been passed down. But you're not just anyone, Ana. You're my wife. You're carrying my child. And you're the last of the Rostova line that this sword was forged to protect."

I step closer to her, extending the sword toward her. "Take it."

Ana's eyes widen in shock. "Samuil, I can't. This is your family's most sacred⁠—"

"Take it," I repeat firmly. "You have every right to hold it. More right than anyone."

She reaches out slowly, her hands trembling slightly as they close around the hilt. The sword is heavy, and she has to adjust her grip to support the weight properly. But she holds it with surprising confidence, her blue eyes fixed on the ancient blade.

"This sword has always represented a promise," I tell her, my voice rough with emotion I can't quite hide. "A promise to protect the royal family, to guard them against any threat, to give our lives if necessary to keep them safe. Today, it represents my promise to you. I will protect you, Ana. You and our child. No matter what it costs me. No matter who I have to fight or what I have to sacrifice. You are mine to guard, and I will not fail."

Tears shine in her eyes as she looks up at me, and I see the trust there, the absolute faith that I will keep my word. It's humbling and terrifying in equal measure, the weight of that trust heavier than any sword.

"I believe you," she whispers.

She extends the sword back toward me, and I take it carefully, preparing to return it to its place of honor. But as my fingers close around the hilt, something catches my eye. There, carved into the metal just beneath where the blade meets the hilt, is an inscription. The letters are small, worn smooth by centuries of hands holding this weapon, but they're unmistakably there.

I've held this sword a thousand times. I've cleaned it, maintained it, studied every inch of the blade and hilt. How the fuck have I never seen this inscription before?

I turn the sword slightly, angling it toward the light to read the words more clearly. The ancient script is difficult to decipher, but I can make out enough to understand the message. And what I read makes my heart stop in my chest.

"Samuil?" Ana's voice sounds distant, concerned. "What's wrong? What does it say?"