Vasya doesn’t move, his finger pressing on the trigger.
“Vasya, look at me, or I swear I’ll shoot you.”
That gets his attention, and he half-turns, the gun still pointed at me, and I can just see Eva, standing behind Vasya, with a gun aimed at his back.
“You’re not going to shoot me.”
“Don’t test me.”
I can hear the tremor in Eva’s voice and see her hands shaking. Vasya sees it, too, and grins with pure malice.
“You’re not going to shoot me, Eva. Have you ever shot anyone before? The first time is the hardest, you know. After that, you forget they’re human.”
“Touch him, and I’ll kill you.” Eva puts both fingers on the trigger, shifting, readying herself for whatever she has to do.
This, too, Vasya sees because the gun swings her way, and she can’t kill him if he shoots her first.
Desperation lends me strength, and I’m on my feet and springing at Vasya before I’m even aware of it. Time slows to a crawl.
Eva’s eyes are wide with fear, trained on Vasya’s gun, though her aim doesn’t falter. Vasya’s finger presses on the trigger. My hands grab his wrist and wrench it into the air just as the gun goes off, his skin slippery from the pouring rain.
Eva stumbles back as though she expects to be hit, but when the gun goes off again as I try to grab it from Vasya’s hands, pain explodes in my arm. My adrenaline numbs it quickly, pushes me through it even as Eva screams my name.
Once, twice, Vasya smashes his head into mine. I stumble back a step but don’t let go of his wrist, instead coming back with my own headbutt, straight into Vasya’s face. His head snaps back, and I wrench the gun from his hand, aim, and fire.
Vasya’s eyes lock on mine, and time stands still.
Then he stumbles back a step, his hand going to his stomach and his gaze following as blood forms a dark spot on the soaked, gray fabric of his T-shirt and drips through his fingers.
A stumble forward, then back again, and Vasya pitches forward into the wet, muddy grass.
“Evgeny?”
Eva’s voice is small and shaking, her eyes glued to Vasya’s form as if he might jump up and attack us again.
“Eva.” I stagger to her, take her into the arm that works, and feel her trembling violently against me. I pull away, searching every inch of her for blood or signs of pain. “Are you okay?”
“I’m not hurt,” she says, swallowing. Tears shimmer in her eyes as she reaches for my shoulder. “Are you?”
“I’m fine. Had worse. Dmitri?” My thoughts are for my second-in-command. Is he dead? I don’t know where Vasya shot him.
“His heart is still beating, but he’s bleeding. He needs a hospital,” Eva says.
Sirens wail, and multicolored lights flash under the dark, oily smoke, sparking against the rain.
“Go get help,” I tell her, turning and pushing her the way I’d come, the only part of the estate not engulfed in flames. “Hurry.”
Eva hesitates, her hand clutching mine before I see a bit of her fire return. She nods, takes a deep breath, and disappears into the dark.
Only then do I turn to Vasya, suddenly aware of every ache and pain, of the fire in my shoulder and the blood dripping down my arm. I drop to my knees beside him, dragging him over with my one working arm. He’s a dead weight, but he’s not dead yet, and his breathing comes in ragged gasps.
“Fucking bastard,” I snarl, putting my hand over his, which is holding the wound in his stomach. It’s still pouring blood, and I know I can’t stop the inevitable. “Why didn’t you say something? You fucking asshole!”
Vasya makes a sound like a chuckle, more rattling wheeze than laugh, and the color has drained from his skin.
I’m angry, furious, full of rage at him, for what he did, for trying to kill Eva and the twins, for trying to exact his revenge for something I’d only known about for hours. I’m angry at myself for not seeing it, angry at my father for taking my mother fromme, for all the lies he told me and told Vasya that led us to this point.
And I am angry at losing a man I considered my brother in all but blood.
