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A chilliness weaves its way through the room. I’m aware of how each man in the vicinity touches his hip—they’re preparing to react to whatever he’s about to do.
“Where’s that dipshit?” Jonas slurs. “Where’s Pavel?”
Pavel steps forward, oozing a cool energy that I don’t recognize. That’s not my husband anymore.
Jonas squares up to Pavel. “Where the fuck is my—hiccup—sister?”
Oh no. He’s drunk again. Just like the wedding.
And I’m not so sure I can save him this time.
“Get out,” Pavel states flatly.
Bile climbs my throat. I can taste everything I just ate—wings, pickles, cake—and I dread how it would look to vomit all over this gorgeous white carpet. It’s so pretty. I’d hate to ruin it with vomit.
I swallow hard.Or blood.
“Don’t be stupid, Jonas,” I whisper shakily. “Please don’t be stupid. Just turn around.Just go.”
Jonas squints, gagging briefly as he raises an accusatory finger. “This is some bullshit.”
I blink, almost expecting to see Kiril standing there instead of my brother.
“You’re a piece of shit who can’t hold his fucking word,” Jonas goes on. “Does no one else see that? Huh?” He turns, almost tripping over his feet. “Are you all fucking blind?”
When no one responds, he twirls back to Pavel.
“Give her back.”
Pavel frowns like he’s dealing with a petulant child. “No.”
“You fucking dick,” Jonas spits. “Fuckingasshole. You lying son of a—”
He blinks rapidly when he notices Kostya. But he’s not focused on the clenched fist at Kostya’s side. He’s hooked on the plate in Kostya’s other hand.
His eyes wander elsewhere, drinking in the decorations, the presents, the string letters spelling outcongratulationsabove the door.
Another round of blinking erupts as he flips around to face Pavel. At this point, he’s done a complete circle of the room from where he stands. He almost misses me entirely.
But he doesn’t miss the pile of diaper boxes next to the gift table.
Anger contorts his features. He rears back his fist as he growls, “You piece ofshit.”
The punch lands before anyone can intervene. Pavel stumbles back a couple of steps while holding the left side of his face. Jonas looks suddenly sober as he races toward me. I huddle in my chair while clutching my stomach.
I know what’s coming.
And nobody can stop it.
Willow stands to defend me, but Jonas knocks her out of the way. He barrels past Karina and sends her to the ground without even blinking.
When he grabs my hair, my stomach flips upside down and my knees wobble together. My throat is like sandpaper—I can’t speak. I can’t do anything except cover my stomach.
“You fucking whore,” Jonas slurs angrily. “You bitch!”
My frozen response cracks when he yanks me out of my chair. I slap his chest, squeaking as I try to break free of his grip.
I know better than to do that.
