Page 102 of Arrow

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Arrow doesn’t tell me what to do. I’m just making sure you don’t do anything stupid.”

“Like what? Jump?” I gestured to the railing. “We’re only three floors up. I’d probably just break my legs and spend the next six months in traction. Not exactly the dramatic escape I’m looking for.”

Orion pushed off the frame and crossed to the railing, close enough I could smell his cologne—something woodsy. “You bolted. I followed. Atlas is keeping the wolves entertained.”

“How thoughtful.”

“It’s practical.” He leaned against the railing and studied the skyline. “You’re tougher than I expected.”

“Everyone keeps saying that,” I replied, “like it’s some kind of surprise that Giovanni Virelli’s daughter has a backbone.”

Orion studied me with those moss-green eyes. “It’s not about being a Virelli. It’s about surviving Arrow. Most women don’t.”

A chill that had nothing to do with the night air crawled up my spine. “Survive him how?”

“Emotionally,” Orion clarified. “He consumes people—takes what he wants and leaves the rest.” He glanced back toward the party. “I’ve known him since we were kids. He’s my brother in every way except blood, but even I know better than to get too close to the fire.”

Bitter laughter escaped me. “I didn’t exactly volunteer to be kindling.”

“No,” he agreed. “But you’re not burning as quickly as they expected.”

The pause between us thickened. Orion wasn’t the type to fill empty space.

Neither was I.

“Can I give you some advice?” The question came out carefully, like he was testing thin ice.

“Will it help?”

“Probably not,” he admitted. “But I’ll say it anyway. Don’t fight him on everything. Choose your battles. Don’t make him prove himself over and over. He will, and the cost gets higher each time. Arrow will kill me for saying this, but he’s worth surrendering to.”

“And what’s worth surrendering to, exactly?” My voice turned sharp as I faced him fully. “The man who shot his cousin in the head to protect his property?”

Orion’s expression didn’t change. “So you know about Natalya.”

“I was there. Her blood was on my face.” Looking back toward the party, toward the golden light spilling through the French doors, I said, “He killed her like it was nothing.”

“It wasn’t nothing to him,” Orion said quietly. “You’re still breathing, and she’s not. Natalya was family, but you were his choice.”

That pulled a laugh from my throat that felt like swallowing nails.

“His choice? His prize, you mean. His fucking trophy.”

“Both can be true.” Orion pushed away from the railing. “Look, I’m not saying marry him with stars in your eyes. I’m just saying, there are worse fates than being Arrow Romanov’s wife.”

“Like what?”

“Being his enemy.” His eyes held mine. “Or worse, being nothing to him at all.”

“Is that what you tell all his victims?” I snapped.

His jaw clenched. “No, you’re the only one who’s ever made it this far.” He checked his watch. “We should go back inside; Arrow will be looking for you.”

Before I could respond, the door to the balcony opened again, and Atlas stepped out, his massive frame blocking most of the light from inside.

“There you are,” he said, eyes narrowing at Orion. “Arrow’s looking for his bride. The vultures are getting restless.”

I straightened my spine and smoothed down the front of my dress. “Wouldn’t want to disappoint the fans.”