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Anton takes two steps toward Zacharov, his mouth twisting in an ugly way. Barron picks up the knife that Anton dropped and flips it around in his hand. Flips it closed, then open again.
I roll over and push myself up, skittering across the floor on fake blood. I manage to get up onto my knees.
“You’re never going to leave here alive,” Anton tells Zacharov, gesturing to Barron and the knife.
I have only one card left to play, but it’s a good one. I stand. This is like being on the roof of Smythe Hall all over again; if I slip, I die.
“I’m not afraid,” Zacharov says, still looking at Anton. “It takes guts to kill a man with your hands. You don’t have the balls.”
“Shut up,” says Anton. He turns to Barron. “Give me the knife. I’ll show him scared.”
Lila rushes Anton, but her father grabs hold of her arms and pushes her behind him.
Her lip curls. Her eyes smolder with banked fire as she stares at her cousin. “I’ll kill you,” she says.
Barron doesn’t hand over the knife, but he does start to smile. He raises the tip to Anton’s throat.
“Don’t point that thing at me,” Anton says, shoving at Barron’s hand. “What are you waiting for? Give it here.”
“I’m pointing the right way,” Barron says. “Sorry.”
I take a deep breath and spring my trap. “We’ve been meeting with Zacharov for months, Barron and me. Right, sir?”
Zacharov gives me a hard look. I imagine he’s fed up with my shenanigans, but he’s got to realize that keeping the knife at Anton’s neck is the most important thing. Zacharov’s fingers tighten on Lila’s arms. “That’s right.”
Barron nods.
“No, you haven’t,” Anton says to Barron. “Why? Even if you’d screw me over, there’s no way you’d screw Philip.”
“He’s in this too,” says Barron. He twists the knife in his hand, letting the fluorescent lights reflect off the blade.
“Philip would never turn on me. That’s impossible. We planned this together. We planned it for years.”
Barron shrugs his shoulders. “If that’s true, then where is he? If he was so loyal, wouldn’t he be here?”
Then Anton looks at me. “This doesn’t make any sense.”
“What doesn’t make sense?” Lila asks. She cuts her eyes toward me for a moment. “You think you’re the only one who can betray people, Anton? You think you’re the only liar?”
I can see the conflict in Anton’s face. He’s still trying to figure out his next move.
“We had to be sure you were serious about killing the head of our family,” Barron says. He doesn’t look confused; he doesn’t even flinch.
“But he’s going to kill you, idiot,” Anton says. He sounds lost. “You threw everything away for nothing. You kidnapped his daughter. You’re dead men. He’s going to execute us all.”
“He forgave us,” Barron says. “He made a deal with Philip and me to let that slide. It was more important to prove that you planned to kill him. We’re nobodies. You’re his nephew.”
Zacharov snorts softly, shaking his head. Then he extends his hand toward Barron, who gently drops the knife into Zacharov’s hand.
I let out my breath.
“Anton,” Zacharov says, letting go of Lila as though he suddenly realizes that he should. “You’re outnumbered. Time to pack it in. Get down on the floor. Lila, you go get Stanley. Tell him there’s something in here we’ve got to deal with.”
Lila wipes her hands on her dress and doesn’t look any of us in the face. I try to catch her eye, but it’s impossible. She heads toward the door.
Zacharov is the one who meets my gaze. He knows that I played him, even if he doesn’t know how. He gives me a slight nod of his head.
I guess I proved myself after all.
