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Seven
Davit
“You didn’t haveany other choice,” Elias said two hours later, though it had felt like days.
Or years.
“I don’t need you to tell me that,” I responded.
I was seething, sick with rage, all of it directed at myself.
He had taken my daughter, stolen her from me.
And I had let my wife walk away.
That Elias wasn’t angry with me only made me feel that much worse.
“Davit, we don’t have time for this shit,” he said, looking at me with a serious expression.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I growled.
I took a sip of the vodka Elias had pushed into my hand and then set the glass down.
It was that or hurl it through the window, and I didn’t think Elias would appreciate that.
“You had to do it. You didn’t have any other choice. It fucking sucks, but we can’t think about that now. What we need to do is focus on what’s important, and that is the next step,” Elias said.
He had showered, but I could see that he hadn’t rested.
His cheeks were haggard, and his jaw was unshaven.
“You really care, don’t you?”
He scoffed. “Fuck off with that—”
He was interrupted by my phone ringing.
I had had Amethyst memorize the number, wanting to make sure she had a way to reach me if the worst happened, even though what had actually happened was something I hadn’t even contemplated.
I looked at Elias and answered after he nodded.
“Hello?”
“Davit,” Raphael said.
I didn’t put the phone on speaker. We were recording the conversation, and Elias had lifted the headset to his ear.
“So, are we ready to talk about details?” I asked, my voice almost bland, something that pleased me, or would have if I wasn’t so fucking scared and pissed.
“Sure,” Raphael said.
But he made no move to say more, and I ground my teeth down hard, wanting to rush him.
I didn’t.
“So,” Raphael finally said.
I closed my eyes, fought for control, and was ready when he started to speak again.
