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“By stealing my information and turning it over to the enemy?” I ask, raising my eyebrows.
Wryn shakes her head.
“By telling him my plan for tonight?”
She shakes her head again. “I thought you didn’t care about the business, that I could give him what he wanted and we would have Ruby back.”
“Ruby is dead!” I scream in her face, unable to hold it back any longer. My spit lands in tiny droplets on her stunned face.
Wryn jerks, as if I hit her.
“What? No, she’s not. Viktor said—” Wryn cuts off and turns pleading eyes toward the man in question. He smiles a predatory smile.
“It was all so easy,” he says.
“No,” Wryn says.
“I saw pictures,” I tell her, no sympathy in my voice. She doesn’t deserve it.
“Pictures? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Why didn’t you tell me what all you had planned?” I shoot back. I know I sound childish, but I don’t think she can accuse me of anything right now. “I thought my father killed her. I didn’t want to upset you.”
“Were you never going to tell me?” she asks through sobs that are coming hard and fast now.
“Eventually, I would have. Would you have ever told me what you did?” I ask, but I don’t wait for a reply. I get to my feet.
Viktor snaps his fingers, and two of his men step forward into the room and haul Wryn to her feet.
“It’s been a pleasure, Connor. You should have left the fighting to the real men,” he says before meeting the eyes of the four other men I forgot were in the room with us. “He’s all yours.”
Viktor strides from the room right after Wryn is dragged out, and the door slams shut behind them.
I turn, gauging the chance of escape that I have right now. It’s not looking good.
Antonio is holding a knife to Dahlia’s throat now, and he smiles up at me.
“That was quite the show,” he says before digging the sharp blade into her neck, pulling it from left to right.
I watch her throat open, blood pouring into her lap as she gurgles.
“Disloyal bitch.” He spits on her as she topples to the side, flopping, trying to draw breath into her lungs. “But don’t they all turn out that way in the end?”
Antonio cleans his blade off with a handkerchief, and he rises from the couch. It always seems to be throat-cutting as a way of death these days.
I tense, glancing around at William, Paul, and Vincent. They are closing in. It’s four to one, and there’s no telling how many other men they have outside. Men who could be killing mine as we speak. Or not speak. No one else is saying anything. I reach for my holster, drawing out my gun, and point it at Antonio, then train it on the other three in increments. They all seem to be amused.
I know I could kill at least one of them right now, but I would most definitely be shot before getting out the door. And they know it too. It’s why none of them are rushing to draw their own weapons.
Fuck, fuck,fuck! Think.
Antonio steps over Dahlia’s body on the floor, where she’s finally lying still, unseeing eyes staring up. I hope wherever she is, she’s not suffering anymore. I don’t have time to feel bad about the situation I got her into though. I need to get myself out of it. I need to warn Geo, Lucas, Dean, and Ginny. I need to be able to fix this clusterfuck so I can decide what to do about Wryn.
Antonio keeps walking toward me, and I take the opportunity to step backward, toward the door. But Vincent circles behind me, getting between me and my escape.
“Now, let’s put the gun down and talk like gentlemen,” Antonio says, his hands out, like he’s asking. But he’s not. There’re no gentlemen here between the five of us.
“I have nothing to say to you,” I tell them, my gun still firmly pointed toward Antonio. Then William. Then Paul. Vincent is out of range.
