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Sergey screams again. The sound is followed by another sluicing cut and still more screaming.
My knees tremble. I press my forehead to the brick and take long, deep breaths.
Yakov is trying to save his sister.
Sergey is a violent asshole.
I understand what is going on here, but that doesn’t mean I like it.
After another round of screaming and cutting, I can’t take it anymore. I spin around. “Stop!”
Yakov is holding Sergey by the wrist. Blood pours down Sergey’s fingers and over Yakov’s hand. It’s soaking into the sleeve of his shirt. He doesn’t glance towards me as he grits his teeth. “This is all because of you, Luna. Don’t get timid now that I’m here to clean up your mess.”
“I didn’t do anything!” I cry out.
“You left the fucking mansion!” Yakov roars. When he looks at me, his green eyes are black. I barely recognize him.
“Because you—” I can’t force the words out. As soon as Mariya told me Yakov was letting us go dancing, I had doubts. It didn’t make sense. Why would he let us wander into the city after weeks of lockdown?
But I wanted to trust her.
I wanted to think Yakov trusted me.
My stomach twists again. This is all my fault.
Sergey uses the distraction to try to slip away, but Yakov presses the blade to his next finger.
“Wait!” Sergey screams. “Wait, I might know something. I might?—”
Yakov cuts through his finger anyway. More screaming. More blood.
“Don’t waste my time. Say it,” Yakov growls.
“His apartment,” Sergey sobs. “I know where he lives. He might have taken her there. They might be there.”
Yakov slides the blade further down his finger. “‘Might’?”
“They’re there!” Sergey rushes to say. “They’ll be there. It’s the only place he would’ve taken her.”
Between one blink and the next, Yakov shoves the blade under Sergey’s chin. “If she’s not there, you’re dead. If he touched her, you’re dead. If I simply get tired of looking at your fucking face, you’re dead.”
Tears and sweat pour down Sergey’s waxy forehead. He looks moments away from passing out.
He might be better off if he does.
Yakov drags Sergey down the alley and I move to follow them before Yakov snarls over his shoulder, “Get her out of here, Oleg.”
Oleg reaches for me, but I dodge him. “I want to come with you. I can help!”
“No,” he snaps. “Take her home, Oleg. Now.”
He doesn’t want me around. I know that. But I can’t stop myself from trying to stay close. When he first found me in the club, Yakov was gentle, concerned. He touched me like I was precious.
Now, he can’t even stand to look at me.
I need to fix this.
Oleg grabs my arm, but I jerk away. I lunge towards Yakov. “I care about Mariya, too. I want to make sure she’s okay.”
