Page 6 of Arrow

He didn’t blink.

“Because you are the only thing left that matters. And Arrow is the only son who matters to them. You will put down the war. You will be the bridge that cannot be burned.” He gave me a sidelong look, half approval and half warning. “That is your job, Harlowe—as it was always mine, and as it was always your brother’s, for all the good it did him.”

“I won’t do it,” I said. “Tell me what it’s worth, and I’ll burn it instead.”

My father didn’t exactly smile at this, but the muscles at the corner of his mouth went slack. I thought he might slap me or throw his drink, but he only went still, like a snake that knows it’s been seen and prefers to wait for the right moment.

“You will do it,” he said evenly. “Because you live here, and eat from my table. You will because our name is worth more than whatever fantasy of freedom you’ve been busy chasing.”

His eyes flicked to Frank, standing silently in the corner, arms crossed and impassive.

“For fuck’s sake, you’re not even going to let me choose my own noose?” I whispered, but he was already reading his contract, already lining up the next pawn.

“You’ll marry him, and I won’t hear another word about it.”

“Fuck you and fuck what’s left of this family,” I hissed.

My father stood up, his beefy palm coming across my face so hard I tasted blood.

“Enough! You will remember who you are speaking to, figlia.”

I fought the heat behind my eyes because I would not let him see an inch of weakness. “You’re asking me to lie down with a viper. Don’t pretend like it’s for peace, it’s for power. It’s always been for power. You may as well have killed Luca yourself.”

He held my gaze, and I braced myself for his hand across my face again, but he didn’t.

“Arrow Romanov is this family’s best shot at a future,” he said as he stacked the papers with a finality that meant his patience was as spent as my options. “You know what I expect.”

Dismissing me with a flick of his eyes, he was already onto the next transaction in his mind.

Frank held the door, giving me a look of pity, then put on an indifferent mask, before my father caught him. I left, half-blind, blood pooling in the crease of my lip, and all I could think as I stalked through the house was how it wasn’t even about Arrow.

Not really.

Romanovs and Virellis had been eating their children for generations. My father just wanted to feed me to the same machine that chewed up my brother and mother.

Frank followed, silent as my shadow. I spun and faced him at the bottom of the stairs. “Tell me what you really think,” I said.

He looked at me for a long time. Maybe he was remembering me at sixteen, curled up the night the world ended, or maybe he was calculating just how much longer he could keep pretending I was breakable.

“It won’t be so bad, Principessa,”⁠* he said quietly. “Arrow’s got a different reputation than the rest of his family.”

“His uncle still strung up Luca.”

Frank nodded, just once. “Arrow’s nothing like him. He’s got his own rules.”

My tongue found the blood at the corner of my mouth. “Everyone does, until they’re tested.”

He smiled with a sad sort of pride. “Then test him.”

I wanted to become something my father couldn’t pawn. If I were traded, I’d at least show my owner the scars.

But legacy is a noose made of silk rope, and when you’re born into a family like mine, you don’t get to cut it, even if you choke.

* Daughter

* Princess

3