Andrey shoves me roughly in Dean's direction, and I stumble against the wall, which feels rough beneath my hands. I freeze when I turn back around. Andrey's gun, a gleaming black automatic, is fully trained on me.
“The next time she runs, Detective,” Andrey says with a sneer, “you put a bullet in her leg. Do you understand? We need her alive—for now.”
“No, that wasn't part of the deal,” Dean protests. “I said no hurting her.” His eyes desperately seek mine. “Clara, I'm sorry. Just stay put. Stay where you are. I'll handle this. I'm doing this for us. I'm saving you.”
Andrey laughs, a horrifying sound. “You really think you're going to get your little fantasy, Detective?” Andrey addresses him with chilling condescension. “You think you get to keep the prize at the end? That when Dmitri Smirnov falls, you’ll ride his pregnant whore right off into the sunset? I don’t think so.”
“What?” Dean's face goes slack with confusion, then tightens with dawning horror. “No, she's mine. You promised me the moneyandClara, if I helped you get Smirnov. Clara comes with me.”
Andrey tilts his head, a gesture of almost theatrical pity. “You are a pathetic fool, Detective Johnson.” The air seems to drop ten degrees. Andrey's eyes, fixed on Dean, are utterly devoid of anything human. “To destroy Dmitri Smirnov, I must take what he loves the most, just like I did with his wife and child the first time. I want to watch the life drain from his eyes when I kill this woman and his second unborn child. I want to watch his world crumble as I take everything he cares about from him in the way he deserves.”
It feels as if the floor is falling out from under me, dropping away and leaving me tumbling into a black abyss of horror. I’m not here just as leverage; I’m here to continue a decade-old revenge plot. I wrap my arms around myself and take a step away, as though I can escape the sociopath standing in front of me, but I’m pressed firmly against the wall, erasing any hope of getting away.
Horror finally overwhelms Dean’s delusion. “You sick, fuckingbastard. That wasn’t the deal. You said we were taking him down clean, that I would bring him in and clear the way for you. You’re not going to touch a hair on Clara’s head.”
Dean’s face twists into anger, but I can tell he still doesn’t grasp the situation. He still thinks he has some say in any of this, that he’s the one in charge, the one calling the shots. But I know he gave that privilege away the moment he agreed to work with Andrey, if he ever had it to begin with.
Andrey’s bored expression doesn’t change. “You were nothing more than a tool, Dean, a useful, yet disposable, tool. I don’t do deals, Detective.”
Dean growls and raises his weapon. “You’re going to do what I say, or I will arrest you and make sure you spend the rest of your days behind bars.”
“And what about you, Detective Johnson? Won’t you be signing your own arrest warrant?”
Faster than I can track, Andrey’s hand moves in smooth, practiced violence.
Bang.
I never even saw him aim the gun at Dean.
Dean doesn’t scream. He grunts and stumbles back, clutching his stomach. A dark, crimson stain starts as a dot on his shirt, spreading quickly until the blood is seeping through his fingers. I watch as a drip falls to the floor, then another, and another.
His gun clatters uselessly to the floor as he collapses against the wall, slowly sliding down. His eyes, wide and filled with stunned incomprehension, fix on me for a final, desperate moment before glazing over.
I’m still staring at Dean, my mind blank and in shock, when I detect movement out of the corner of my eye.
“On second thought, let’s just get this over with, Ms. Benson. This is how I break Dmitri Smirnov.”
I stare down the barrel of the gun, my mind clearing entirely. The fear has become sharp, focused, and I’m not paralyzed anymore. My hand flies instinctively to my stomach, and in that instant, there is only one truth: My child isnot dying here.
“Dmitri will kill you.”
“Oh, he’ll try.” His finger tightens on the trigger. “But he won’t succeed. His end is coming, too, Ms. Benson, and I’m the one who isdeliveringit to him.”
Andrey smiles, cold and empty.
“Goodbye, Clara.”
I’m moving before my brain registers what I’m doing.
39
CLARA
Idon’t even know what I’m doing, other than acting on pure instinct. I dive to the side before Andrey has a chance to pull the trigger, but I feel the impact of the bullet before I hear the shot, as a sharp, searing pain explodes in my arm, sending a lightning strike through my entire body.
My mind is lost to the shock of the pain when a new sound erupts below us. It’s an explosion of breaking wood and shattering glass.
I’m not sure how, but I knowDmitri is attached to that sound.
