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Petyr knows he is cornered, though. And desperate rats are the most dangerous. “You can kill me, bastard,” he howls. “But not before I kill your bitch!”
He raises his weapon and aims at my wife. A cry wrenches from my throat.
But my cry is drowned out by Paige’s. “Anthony, no!”
BOOM.The gun erupts.
Her words don’t stop him. Her ex-husband, the man whose sins brought her to me, throws himself between my wife and Petyr’s gun, just in time to intercept the bullet. I hear the awful, gut-wrenching sound of blood meeting flesh.
When he hits the floor, blood spurts out of him with the same intensity that Maksim’s did.
One thing is beyond doubt: he’s going to die.
Paige drops to her knees next to his crumpled body. She’s forgotten all about Petyr, who is now pointing his gun at her.
But I haven’t forgotten.
I send a bullet right into the hand that’s holding the gun. He bellows with pain and the weapon clatters to the floor.
It’s too late for him to grab for his gun, so he runs. I fire off two bullets, but he manages to dodge them both.
“Fuck!” I yell.
Then I hear another gunshot.
Petyr crumples to the floor, taken down by the bullet to his thigh. I glance back and see Paige still lying on the floor… with her smoking gun raised.
Her eyes meet mine for a moment. She grins. It’s weak and heartbroken and heartbreaking, and her voice is all those things, too, as she says to me, “Good thing you taught me how to aim.”
84
MISHA
I stand over Petyr, looking down at his bleeding, broken body. There are tears in his eyes, but his mouth is set in a relentless line. Even at the end, he won’t admit defeat.
“I’ve thought about this moment a lot over the last two years,” I tell him.
He coughs and blood dribbles down his chin. “Killing me won’t bring him back,” he rasps.
I nod. “You’re right. But it’s something.”
He’s trying to edge away from me. A streak of smeared blood follows him like a snail’s trail. But there’s nowhere to escape to now. More blood splatters on the ground from his fluttering lips as he tries and fails to talk.
“You brought this upon yourself, you know,” I growl. “We were allies, Petyr. Until you thought you deserved what was Maksim’s. And you know what’s funny? I never wanted what he had, but it was given to me anyway. A wife, a crown, a Bratva—nothing I ever asked for. It’s a fucked-up world we live in. We get what we don’t want; and what we want, we don’t get. There are lessons in there, though. I’ve learned mine. You refused to do the same. So consider this a mercy. From Maksim to me.”
I put my gun away and pull out my knife. He’s sucking in air, greedy for just one more second of life.
I had all sorts of grand plans about how to kill Petyr. For so many nights, I’ve dreamed of all the different ways I would make him suffer before he went.
But in the dim light of this moldy hallway, in the same home that saw my brother’s last breaths, I realize that the fire that’s lived inside me since Maksim’s death is nothing but an ember now. My thirst for revenge is gone.
All I want is peace. A little slice of quiet where I can sit with Paige and talk about our future. I want a nursery with two cribs and the sounds of our babies laughing. I want a glass of champagne and a starlit night on a balcony overlooking the city.
Everything else is unimportant.
I press the knife to his throat. “Enjoy hell, Petyr.”
Then I slash the blade across his neck.
