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“Kiril Vladimirovich is right,” he groans through pained gasps. “You’re losing control.”
“You think I’m losing control, Vorobyov?” I grab him by the throat and force him to kneel on his injured knee. “That fool has blinded you. Take a look around, asshole. Who has control here?”
One of my brigadiers mumbles something to my right. A few of them chuckle in what sounds like agreement. I stare at the defector at my feet, watching how he watches me, how he waits ever vigilant like a frightened rabbit. Like I’m the big bad wolf who’s hungry for revenge.
This shitbag hasnoidea how ravenous I am.
Just when I’m about to break his nose or strip his shirt to slice up his stars, I think of my conversation with Stepan from just days ago.
My grip on Vorobyov’s throat relaxes.
I would have demanded Kiril’s head.
Broken bones won’t do it. Flaying his skin won’t either.
I know exactly what I have to do.
I press my gun against his head and squeeze the trigger.
Warm blood splashes my face as Vorobyov’s head snaps back. I remain motionless, not even wincing as his body turns limp. In that moment, I savor the savage taste of vengeance. A million different curses rise in my throat, but none make it past my lips.
And then, a horrified shriek rises behind me.
I turn around and see Liya, my gorgeous wife in the special outfit she chose just for this party, staring with eyes so wide that they look like swollen beach balls. Her hands cover her mouth, and her legs shudder while she stares at me. Like I’m scary.
Like I’m the big bad wolf.
I tuck my gun back into its holster.
“Liya,” I say calmly while holding up a hand.
She steps back. “Don’t…”
“Lisichka, you’re in shock. Sit down.”
“Don’t. Touch. Me.”
I advance another step. “Come on, Liya. I’ll take you home. You’ll be safe there.”
“No,” she whimpers. “I’m not safe…”
She shakes her head while backing away from me, retreating to the opposite end of the club. Three feet. Five feet. Then twenty. She’s getting so far away that I can’t quite make out her expression anymore.
But I know what’s on her face. I know what’s fluttering in her eyes.
It’s fear.
Fear ofme.
Chapter Twenty-One
Liya
“Come on, Liya. I’ll take you home. You’ll be safe there.”
Safe?
Withhim?
