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“Then why did you tell me to come to the hotel?”
“I’m trying to tell you Ididn’t. It wasn’t me!”
“I don’t believe you.”
Dread claws through me. She isn’t listening. “Sandra—”
“Were you just using me this whole time? You wanted to lower my guard. And when I wasn’t paying attention, you decided to strike.”
“Sandra, that’s not—”
“Congratulations, Andrei. You got me.”
The line goes dead. She hung up on me. When I try the number again, an automated voice plays in my ear. “The number you have dialed is not in service.”
I throw my phone across the room with an angry shout, watching it shatter into a hundred tiny pieces, scattering all over the floor.
Fuck.
Chapter 25
Sandra
“What were you thinking?” Dad asks me. He doesn’t shout, doesn’t raise his voice. In fact, his tone is perfectly calm and level, like this is just any other run-of-the-mill conversation.
And that’s how I know he’spissed.
I sit across from him on the living room couch, rubbing my hands together. They’re stained red with my brother’s blood. Somewhere upstairs, I can hear him groaning and wailing in pain. Aunt Nat is with him, tending to his injuries.Nothing too serious, she told us.All he needs is a couple of stitches, some antibiotics, and some rest. The bullets had gone through and had hit nothing vital. But her prognosis does little to settle my fried nerves.
“Did you see the shooter?” Uncle Dima asks me. “Can you give us a description?”
I nod numbly. “He was an older guy. Thinning white hair. A mustache, very bushy brows. His eyes were blue, I think.”
“Did he say anything?” Uncle Pyotr presses on.
My response sits on the tip of my tongue, but I hesitate. I’m not too sure what to make of everything, all this conflict swirling inside me like a maelstrom. The moment I tell my family what Frederick’s attacker said, I’ll effectively be sentencing Andrei and his brothers to death. I don’t want to fight a war…
But my little brother is hurt. Someone shot him. I can’t let this slide.
“Andrei Nicolaevich gives his best,” I answer bitterly.
Dad’s face is hard and cold. I can tell he wants to give the orders, but he nods at me instead. “What do you want us to do, Sandra?”
It’s a simple question, but it holds an intimidating amount of weight. I’m the pakhan now. What I say goes. But they don’t understand. I’m caught between a rock and a hard place. If I do nothing, they’ll see me as weak. If I give the order to attack…
Andrei could get hurt.
I bite my tongue hard enough to taste blood. I’m pissed at him. Furious and hateful. But do I want him to die?
I’m trying to tell you I didn’t. It wasn’t me!
The room spins around me. The air touching my skin is a degree too hot for me to handle. Is this what insanity feels like? My confidence has never been this shaken before.
“Well?” Dad asks bluntly.
I rise slowly. Everyone’s watching me. They need an answer, their expectations clear—and there’s really only one I can give.
“Mobilize our men, our allies,” I murmur, every syllable out of my mouth like jagged glass. “Sweep through the city and capture anyone loyal to Nicolaevich. They started this fight, but I’m going to end it.”
