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Then I met Alina.
But I let my need for vengeance cloud my decisions.
And now she may never forgive me.
That means I’ve not only thwarted my own plans for revenge, but I might have lost my very reason for turning my back on Sascha in one fell swoop.
To top it off, someone clearly knows the truth of who I am, which means I’m in danger of being ratted out not just by Alina, but also by a complete stranger—one who doesn’t seem too keen on protecting me, based on what he said.
I have no clue what ended up happening to the guys we got in a fight with last night. Maybe Viktor took them out, and it just won’t be a problem. But somehow, I doubt that. My luck doesn’t seem to be turning in that direction, and we had our hands full before I let someone sucker punch me out of the equation.
“Knock, knock,” Viktor says, barging into my room. His bloodshot, heavily lidded eyes tell me he’s worse for wear this morning, but for a different reason than I am. The bloody Mary in his right hand confirms the hangover he must be nursing, but his voice brims with humor. “Wake up, Sleeping Beauty. You missed breakfast. It’s time for lunch. I’m thinking burgers. Something hot and greasy.”
“Mmm,” I mumble, scooting off the bed that they tossed me on fully clothed and still wearing my shoes. Once again, my shirt is splattered with blood, though from the way my face aches, I would guess it’s from a bloody nose I must have received when the blond knocked me unconscious. “What happened?” I ask, accepting the second bloody Mary Viktor proffers for me a second later.
I take a small sip of the vodka-infused vegetable juice then press the cold, condensation-coated glass to my throbbing temple. The ice-filled drink brings immediate relief and helps ease the pounding in my brain.
Viktor snickers. “You got your butt kicked by a bunch of amateurs,” he observes dryly. “I thought he was going to pound your face in before we could get to you. Looked like he knocked you out cold with that one punch. I’ll be honest, I never thought I’d see someone get the best of you like that.”
I snort. The guy sure wouldn’t have if I hadn’t been so distracted by his taunts.
“Kristof and I had to peel you and Malik up off the pavement after the fight. Malik’s sleeping off his hangover at Kristof’s house.”
I nod. “Thanks for not just leaving me there.”
Chuckling, Viktor leans his shoulder against the doorframe. “Well, you did take out that prick who thought he could cheap shot me from behind. I don’t imagine that helped you with your own fight. I figured I owed you for that… among other things.”
The other things being all the times I’ve stepped up to help in his fights—or how I saved his sister’s life. Probably both. Clearly, he’s not aware of the fact that I nearly put a bullet in both his head and his father’s last night, and he must not have heard what my opponent said.
“So, how’d the fight end up? Those guys run off?” I ask casually. Inside, I’m tense with the need to know if some nameless blond svoloch is still running around town with the secret about my past in his back pocket.
Viktor opens his mouth to respond, but the harsh sound of his phone ringing cuts him off. He digs into his pocket, and when he sees the caller ID, he answers immediately. “Da, Otets,” he says, his voice suddenly all business.
Sergio. My heart skips a beat as Viktor flashes me a look, his eyebrows furrowing.
“When did this happen?” he demands, standing from his relaxed position against the doorframe. His empty hand clenches into a fist, the tendons popping along his forearm.
My muscles tense automatically, my body readying for anything. Whatever Sergio has to say, it’s not good. And in a flash, I realize I very well might have spent my last remaining hours alive lying unconscious on Viktor’s guest bed.
What I wouldn’t give to have had those hours with Alina instead.
It’s noon now, so she’s had plenty of time to speak to her father.
Watching keenly, I brace for what’s to come as Viktor listens intently, offering up cryptic questions and half responses every now and again.
Finally, he hangs up, and when he turns to face me, fire blazes in his eyes.
“Come with me. Now,” he commands, his casual demeanor gone as he slams his half-finished bloody Mary on the dresser.
“Where are we going?” I ask, following his lead and keeping a reasonable pace behind him in case he’s leading me into a trap.
“My father’s house.”
Blyat.
Is this it? Has Alina blown my cover?
A wave of pain washes through me at the thought. But I can’t blame her for choosing her family over me. Even if I chose her happiness over getting revenge for my brother.
