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“I swallowed them.” Amy’s voice was thick with tears.
My protective instincts raged with the need to gather her up. I hated this.
Boyan cursed in Bulgarian.
“What the fuck is going on?” Cian screamed, but he wasn’t asking Boyan. He was talking to Petar, whose shifty eyes darted around, avoiding his gaze.
“Isn’t this what you wanted? To kill your uncle so that you could be the Irish King.” Boyan’s voice was mocking, his accent growing thicker with his sarcasm. “Except you didn’t make that deal with me.” He nodded to Viktor. “Kill him.”
“But—” Petar started.
Viktor put a bullet through his brother’s head, and he slumped to the floor in a heap. Amy gasped, clutching the grenades to her chest. Don’t drop them yet, a chuisle. I urged her, catching her terrified eyes. She backed against the wall, shivering violently.
“You made a deal with my traitorous son. Do you think I don’t know everything that goes on in my house?” Boyan carried on conversationally as if he hadn’t just ordered one of his children to kill the other.
Not everything, old man.
“I’ve got an opening for a child now,” Boyan said, turning to Amy and smiling like a crocodile.
“You’re crazy,” Cian screamed, waving his gun around.
“You’ve still got a deal. Put that down, you stupid boy,” Boyan spat.
Cian’s eyes swung around the room, catching on me. I stared back. It’s time to pay the piper, cousin.
He twisted back to Boyan and fired. Boyan’s man, who had trailed Amy into the room, immediately shot back. Boyan staggered, bending double, and Cian gasped, falling forward as blood bloomed on his chest. He half turned towards me, and I sneered at him.
“You got off lightly, you fucking traitor,” I said as he gurgled his last breaths.
Amy had slid fully down the wall now, her eyes wide and knuckles white around the grenades. Hold on, a chuisle.
“Get him out of here,” Viktor barked at the guy who shot Cian, motioning towards his father.
“Kill them and bring your new sister.” Boyan coughed, tearing open a bulletproof vest. Fucker hadn’t been shot after all. Although he looked like shit, wheezing and gripping his chest as his henchman helped him up and out of the room.
Viktor watched them leave, then stalked over, his gun drawn.
“No!” Amy screeched, scrambling to her feet awkwardly while holding her grenades.
“Call off your woman,” Viktor said, a smirk on his lips.
“Fecking untie me, you eejit,” I hissed.
“Sorry, I don’t speak Carney.”
I glared at him for that slur. The prick was enjoying this.
“Wait, Amy. Just hold those grenades. Viktor is with us.”
She blinked at me in shock.
“It’s not my fault your shitty plan went sideways.” He produced a flick blade and sliced through the bindings.
“Where has your father gone?”
“He’s about to meet someone very special.” Viktor smirked.
“That wasn’t the plan. He was going to meet Loch’s tool selection in the warehouse.”
