Page 81 of Retrograde

“Well, I could make him eat it,” he suggests. “No less satisfying and technically very feasible.”

“It is a tempting thought,” I allow, keeping my tone conversational.

“Do you have a better one? What would you do to him?”

“Nothing,” I reply simply.

His eyes widen. “Why the fuck not? Why not give him what he deserves?”

He stares at me open-mouthed, and I can’t resist a small, smug smile.

“Oh, but I would be doing exactly that. It was on that same day, when I was taking a bath to wash the blood off, that I decided what Volker would and would not get from me. I decided he wouldn’t get my fear. He wouldn’t get my fury. He wouldn’t get my hatred. He wouldn’t get my nightmares. He would get exactly what he deserved from me. Nothing.”

30

FOUR YEARS AGO, TRISTAN

“Ican’t be everywhere at once,” I snap, banging my fist on the rickety table strewn with maps.

Chess figurines representing our units rattle, some toppling over and rolling away from their positions.

“No one’s expecting you to,” Bob says.

“Really?” I march around the table, my footsteps echoing loudly throughout the high-ceilinged hall, the lacquered floor creaking underneath my weight. “Then explain to me.” I round on him, irrational rage stretching the skin on my face. “Why do all groups keep fucking up unless I’m there watching their every damn move?”

“Because they have no military experience, Tristan,” she speaks, and the earth stops turning. “Besides, not all units. Krasnik’s group are holding their own down south. God knows how.”

I’ll tell you how, light of my existence.

“That’s because Krasnik is batshit crazy,” I mutter.

“I think it’s because he was in the army. Saw plenty of action from what I’ve heard.”

“The two are not mutually exclusive.” I cast a furtive smile in her direction.

What I really want to do is throw myself at her feet and beg her to marry me now that the man she never should have married is dead. But she doesn’t know me the way I know her. She doesn’t know yet that we’re destined to be together. But in time, she will.

“Tristan? Anything to add?” she nudges me, eyebrows raised.

“Yes.” I clear my throat, not meeting her gaze directly. “Krasnik may be managing to fend them off for now, and fucked if I know how, but he can’t be depended on. He’s too hot-headed and too much of a solo player. He ignores any and all instructions. One day soon, he’s going to snap.”

As if on cue, the hall double door flies open and in marches Attila—Krasnik’s second-in-command and as such, one of the few aware of my current location.

“He’s gone insane,” he announces breathlessly, and there’s no need for him to specify who he’s talking about.

“What has he done now?” I groan.

“You really need to come with me and see it.”

“Son of a bitch,” I mutter under my breath before turning back to the joy of my life to ask her, not meeting her eyes, “Would you like to come with me, Lena? I know you find Krasnik ... amusing.”

Just one more reason to hate the man.

Attila leads us into a run-down villa. Through an uneven-floor corridor with a badly frayed carpet, into the sunroom.

The smell hits us long before we reach it.

“Ugh, what the hell?” my love gasps, pinching her nose.