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“Look at us,” Daria called over to Anya, her voice almost jovial. She thought she was so close to having what she’d always craved. Anya’s death, by her own hand. But first, she wanted to taunt her a little. “One big, happy family reunion. I was telling Polina just the other week that we should have a little get-together with everyone we graduated from the academy with. You know, the ones still alive and all.”
“And look at us now,” Anya gushed, like this was some afternoon tea party, old friends catching up and reminiscing about their pasts. “The three of us are having a lovely little party. You’ve gone all out, decorating my lawn and blowing shit up. Aw, you shouldn’t have, Daria.”
“Daria, let Vaughn go,” Polina cried out suddenly, the tremble in her voice when she said my name causing a pain in my chest. “Please. He’s a good boy.”
“Darling, this isn’t Vaughn,” Daria soothed. “It’s Anya’s boy wonder. Ryan.” She tightened her hold around Ryan’s throat, cutting off his oxygen. “And we talked about this. Vaughn made his choice. He picked his little college tart and that half-baked sister of his.”
Hearing her talk about Abi made me second-guess not killing Ryan to take the stupid bitch out. She wasn’t wrong about Samara, but I wasn’t sure I would change her even if I could. I liked her the way she was.
“He didn’t mean it!” Polina screamed. “The girl just confused him. Once we take care of her, he will fall in line again. Everything…will be…fine. After I kill her. Just wait. You’ll see. I’ll kill her, and he will be ours again.”
There might have been a moment when I’d considered Polina living through this. Some lingering feeling of loyalty to the one who had shown me moments of affection. But not now. Not after hearing her threaten Abi.
“Touch Samara, and you will pray for the angel of death,” Elias snarled.
“Sam…” I could hear the confusion in Polina’s voice, but I didn’t take my gaze off Daria. So close. So fucking close. “No, not her. That’s the sister. The other one. The redhead.”
“Now look what you’ve done,” Daria tsked. “You went and broke Polina. Again.”
“I didn’t break her the first time,” Anya argued. “But you didn’t tell her that, did you? That you were working for the other team in Bolivia, and it was you who shot her?”
“Liar!” Polina screamed. “It was you!”
“How have you survived this long when you are so stupid, Polina? I was running in front of you. In front. So how could I have possibly shot you in the back?”
Daria tensed, her smirk falling, her face losing color, telling me she must have seen Polina realizing the truth. “She’s lying to you, Polina. Don’t listen to her!”
“Oh my God,” Polina muttered. “Oh my…” She was so upset she switched from English to Russian. “It was you! All this time, you were the one responsible. And I was stupid enough to believe you!”
“It wasn’t me! Polina, I swear, it wasn’t me!”
“I loved you!”
“You still love me!” Daria screamed. “Don’t say shit like that. We’re so close. As soon as I kill Ryan, we’ll find Vaughn and end him too. Then that idiot daughter. Anya will lose all three of her children.”
“We stole him.” Polina’s voice was full of horror. “I let you take that poor boy. All these years, you were so horrible to him. And I allowed it because he was her son. We turned him into the perfect revenge, but all I really wanted was to love him. He could have been so different if we had just shown him a little affection.”
“Anya’s son is incapable of feeling anything!” Daria raged. “He’s an emotionless robot just like his mother!”
“I hate you! I hate you. I hate you!” Polina’s cry affected Daria more than anything else could have. Daria’s hold on Ryan eased, but she was already shifting the gun in her hand, turning it away from my brother, pointing it toward Anya and Polina.
I pulled the trigger as two other shots rang out. Daria’s head jerked, my bullet piercing her brain and exploding out the other side.
* * *
Over.
After thirty-five years, it was finally over. I expected to have a moment of peace, or maybe even regret, but I didn’t feel anything. At least not where Daria was concerned. Even as she fell to the ground, Ryan now in possession of her gun and pointing it at Polina, where she was still on the ground, screaming in Russian, I felt nothing inside me for the woman.
For a second, I thought maybe everything was turned off, unsure if why I didn’t feel anything was because I’d gone numb again. But then I saw Samara come skipping around the side of the house, glee-filled and deranged. Affection burned in my chest along with my next agonized inhale. Her sniper rifle was in one hand, an AR I hadn’t seen her grab from the artillery in the other as she bounced toward me.
“I got the headshot!”
“No, I got the headshot,” I argued. “You missed and got her in the chest.”
Her grin only grew. “Bullshit. I’m counting the headshot as mine.” She shoved me playfully. “She was dead before she hit the ground. That’s my kill.”
Fighting the overwhelming urge to hug her, I soaked up the fact that she was right in front of me. Unharmed. Alive. What would I have done if something had happened to her? “You’re counting now?”
