Chapter 9
Mila looked up into Rowan’s incredibly handsome, angular face. The absolute, unshakeable certainty in his cold, perceptive eyes was both terrifying and profoundly comforting. He was a warlord preparing for battle, yet he looked at her with a gentle, fierce devotion that she had never experienced from a father.
"I don't want anyone to die because of me," Mila whispered, her voice trembling slightly in the quiet, elegant warmth of the study.
"Did you force Georgina to lie, or did she choose the path of treason herself?" Rowan asked, his large, tattooed hand reaching out to gently rest on her shoulder.
"She chose it," Mila conceded, looking down at the polished leather of his shoes.
"Must a king apologize for crushing a snake that attempts to bite his family?" Rowan asked.
Mila shook her head, slowly raising her eyes back to his. "No. But I am scared for you. They have an army."
"Have I not built an empire by standing against armies?" Rowan asked, a dark, lethal smile touching the corners of his mouth.
He stepped away from her, walking toward a small, reinforced steel safe embedded in the carved walnut paneling behind his desk. He entered a quick combination, the heavy tumblers clicking loudly in the silent room. He reached inside and pulled out a small, flat velvet box.
He walked back to Mila, holding the box in his intricately tattooed hands. The generous negative space of the ink made his hands look like works of dangerous art.
"Will you open it?" Rowan asked, holding it out to her.
Mila took the velvet box, her slender fingers shaking slightly. She popped the lid open. Inside, resting on a bed of black silk, was a heavy, solid gold signet ring. It was identical to the one Rowan wore on his right hand, bearing the intricately engraved crest of the Ashford syndicate. It was a smaller cut, clearly designed for a woman's hand, but it carried the exact same weight of absolute power.
Mila gasped, her delicately dimpled chin dropping in shock. "What is this?"
"Is it not the symbol of our bloodline?" Rowan asked quietly.
"You want me to wear this?" Mila asked, looking up at him with wide, tear-filled eyes. "But I don't know anything about your world. I don't know how to be a part of this."
"Do you believe courage and loyalty require training?" Rowan asked. "Did you not walk into a room filled with my enemies and tell the truth, knowing it could cost you your life?"
Mila swallowed hard, looking back down at the gleaming gold ring.
"Will you put it on?" Rowan asked, his deep voice carrying a commanding, yet deeply loving cadence.
Mila reached into the box and lifted the heavy gold ring. She slid it onto the index finger of her right hand. It fit perfectly. The cool metal quickly warmed against her fair, rosy skin. It was a heavy, undeniable tether to a world of violence, wealth, and absolute power.
"Are you ready to take your rightful place by my side?" Rowan asked, placing his own hand over hers, the two identical signet rings pressing together in the warm light.
"I am ready," Mila answered, her voice steady, finding a new, unyielding strength within herself.
Before Rowan could speak again, the heavy oak doors of the study burst open without a knock.
Silas stood in the doorway, his chest heaving, an assault rifle gripped tightly in his hands.
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"Are the Sloane family vehicles at our gates?" Rowan asked, spinning around, his hand already reaching seamlessly beneath his tailored suit jacket for his concealed weapon.
"Yes, Boss!" Silas shouted. "They just breached the outer perimeter! It's a full-scale assault!"
