I feel him looking right through me.
How does he know? Or is he just guessing?
“I think you could benefit from some therapy yourself, Jay. A little self-reflection would be helpful.”
“Helpful, huh? You know what would be helpful, Yoshiro? Boundaries. Professional ones.”
He tilts his head. I swear, his stare is like a scalpel he wants to slice into my Achilles heel.
“A therapist who gets to know his client too well doesn't seem very ethical to me. So I'm just wondering, is it really Tom you're trying to help, or mainly yourself?”
Jay leads us to a shed behind the East House.
I want to screampineapple cookieso loud it echoes across the lake.
If Tom manages to fall out of bed fast, we could be out of here in ten minutes. No, five. Five minutes tops, not a second longer.
I need to do something because my head is about to explode. Let me end this bullshit right here.
“Your problem with me isn’t about ethics. And it’s not that you think I’m not good enough for Tom. None of this is personal.”
There’s steel in my voice now.
“Have you ever heard the story of the serpent among the wolves, Jay?”
I take a slow step closer.
“While the wolves are tearing each other apart, the serpent coils around one of them and slips out of the den. And by the time the pack realizes what happened, they’re gone for good.”
Jay snorts. It turns into a short laugh as he shakes his head.
Oh, boy. Did I just deliver a direct threat to Jay McKenna’s face?
That hadn’t exactly been part of the plan. Or maybe it was.
Yes, in my heroic little daydreams I definitely rehearsed that line. Saying it out loud, however, was a fucking reckless move.
I expect him to go full-on furious now, but he doesn’t look anywhere close to breathing fire. Actually, he looks kind of amused.
“Well, slippery slitherer, at least you’re not boring.”
His words are barely cold before the shed door slams open and Sergei steps out, a shotgun in each hand.
What the actual fuck—!? My heart skips a beat, then another.
Shit. This is bad. This is so damn bad.
I'm not a man of God, but when he hands one of the shotguns to Jay, I make an imaginary sign of the cross.
Is this the end for me? Are they going to hunt me through the woods? Not exactly my first time.
During my cowboy phase, a rancher dad had caught me topping his son in the haystack. I had bullets flying over my head within seconds.
Sometimes I think fate likes to remind me who’s in charge. It’s almost impressive, if it weren’t just another Greek tragedy in my life
“Didn’t know snakes had so many words, and so little of them now.”
Jay smirks as Sergei passes me the other gun. “Let’s see if you can do more than hiss.”
