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His voice has turned soft, crooning, almost as if he believes he’s offering me something meaningful. I fight not to close my eyes again, knowing it won’t help, that it will only make him angrier.
“I can’t tell you what I don’t know,” I whisper. “I can’t. I just sell the drugs at the club. Lorenzo has never told me anything about his business. Whatever you do, I can’t tell you anything else, because I don’t know—please!” I shriek again as Egor reaches out, his hand fisting in the thin material of the tank top I’m wearing. He rips it, tearing it away from me with a flex of muscle that makes it seem as if the shirt is made of tissue paper. I reflexively try to cover myself, but he laughs, slapping my hands away.
“I already saw this, bitch. Nothing I haven’t already jerked off to.” He licks his thick lips, glancing at Darcy as she lets out a horrified whimper. “She didn’t tell you? She made me come hard earlier tonight, while I watched her dance. But don’t worry, sladkiy. I have plenty left for you.”
“Leave us alone,” Darcy whispers. “She doesn’t know anything.”
“You sure about that?” Egor smirks. “I only know one way to find out.”
“Please let us go,” I whisper. I can’t stand the sound of Darcy begging, and I can’t bear the idea of what Egor is going to do. “I don’t know what to say. I don’t know anything. But if you just leave, I won’t say anything, I swear?—”
Egor laughs, the sound filling the room. “Do you think I’m stupid, suka?” The gun pushes harder against my temple, and I let out a terrified whimper. “You think I believe you won’t tell Campano? That the moment you see him again, you won’t send him after me?”
“My ankle—I won’t dance again,” I lie. “He doesn’t want something that’s broken. I’m no good to him if I’m ruined. He left tonight saying he doesn’t want to see me again.”
“Hm.” Egor raises an eyebrow. “Well. Let’s see if that’s the truth. Put your hands up over your head, suka. You too, sladkiy,” he adds, nodding at Darcy. “We’ll see how much truth there is to this. If you’re lying, you’ll break quickly enough?—”
“No. You will.”
A hard, cold voice comes from the doorway. My heart nearly stops in my chest, a cry of relief slipping from my lips as I look up, because I know who it is before I even see Lorenzo standing in the doorway.
He’s come after all. And now, there’s a chance we might survive.
Lorenzo
Ithought I knew what anger felt like. I thought I understood rage. But I’ve never known anything like the cold fury that sinks into my bones when I step into the doorway and see Mila huddled on the bed crying, Darcy next to her, Egor holding the two women at gunpoint. When I see Niki on the floor, rocking back and forth, eyes squeezed shut so tightly they’ve nearly disappeared into his small face and his hands covering his ears.
“Drop your gun.” Mine aims at Egor, held out in front of me as I move in one swift stride to put myself between him and Niki.
“I’ll shoot her.” Egor presses the gun against Mila’s temple, shoving her head sideways, and I feel that cold rage turn my blood to ice.
Later, I’ll feel the heat of it. I’ll feel all the rush of emotion that I should right now. But at this moment, I feel nothing—only the firm, uncompromising knowledge that this man is going to die.
Quickly, if I have to, in order to keep Mila safe. But if I have my preference, it will be much slower than that.
“You might.” My voice is so even and cool that it shocks even me. “But I will kill you before you can kill more than one of them. And if you so much as flinch to aim that gun at the boy, I will kill you before you can pull the trigger.” I keep my gaze, and the gun leveled at Egor. “Niki, run. Go to your room, and shut the door. Now!”
My voice is sharper than I want it to be, speaking to a child, but it’s imperative that he listen. I feel rather than see him look up at Mila from behind me, and she gives a tiny, almost imperceptible nod.
I hear the sound of scrambling behind me as Niki makes a break for the door. I’m ready for Egor to so much as flinch, but whatever he heard in my voice, he believes it. He doesn’t move, his gun still pressed against Mila’s head in a standoff that keeps us both immobile.
“Now that you’re here,” Egor says, his voice almost bored, “I don’t give a shit about the boy. I was going to use him to get this bitch to give me information, but now I can use her to get you to give it to me. Or are you going to watch while I put holes in her and her friend, and then fuck them?”
My eyes meet Mila’s over Egor’s shoulder. For a moment, I say nothing. And then, as he shifts to aim the gun at Darcy and take a shot, I take mine.
I know there’s a chance he’ll hurt Darcy. But I have one moment to get the upper hand. Darcy screams, flinging herself to one side, and in that instant, I pull the trigger, putting a bullet through Egor’s knee.
His hand jerks upwards, a bullet going wild. Somewhere in the back of my head I hope that it didn’t hit anyone in an adjoining apartment, but in the moment, I hardly care. The only thing that matters to me right now is getting him away from Mila. I dart forward, putting a bullet in his other knee as I slam my shoulder into his side and knock him to the floor.
Egor lets out a sobbing moan of pain, his gun still clutched in his hand. Before he can aim it at me, I step forward, my booted foot on his wrist as I bear down with all of my weight.
The sound of bones crunching fills the air, and he cries out. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Mila wrapping her arms around Darcy, holding the other girl as they both cower on the bed. I want to go to her—but I have to deal with this, first.
“I let you go earlier tonight,” I murmur coldly, my gaze fixed on his bruised face. “Because I couldn’t stop myself from going to Mila after you hurt her. But that’s not going to happen again.”
I grind my boot down on his wrist, relishing the sounds that fall from his lips, the sounds of his pain filling the room. With my other foot, I kick him in the ribs, hard, and then I reach down, hauling him up from the floor as I kick the gun away. I want to avoid shooting again if possible—bullets going through walls and floors in an apartment complex is a danger that can cause more complications than I want—but I will, if I have to.
What I would rather do is kill him with my own two hands.
