It’s Kolya. I can feel him.
I turn.
He enters with a knowing smile on his horrible face, moving with the unhurried ease of a man walking through his own living room, which I suppose he is, in a way.
He seems smaller than before. He’d become a towering figure in my nightmares, and even at the council meeting, he’d seemed larger than life. But now I see him as just a man, gray and balding, in an expensive coat that hangs on his narrow shoulders.
But those eyes.
They’re pale and sharp, and a strange, ancient shade of green, like the color of an old, forgotten forest. And when they land on me, I’m five years old again, scared and alone. He leers at me with the satisfied look of a predator who’s finally found his prey.
“There’s my girl.”
Two men march in beside him. More doors open on the upper level, more men appearing.
“It’s so good to see you again,” he says as he approaches me slowly, his hands clasped behind his back. He regards me like I’m a museum piece, there for his inspection. “You look so much like your mother. Same beauty, same defiance. It’s that very same defiance that I saw flash in her eyes during those brief seconds between when she woke up and when I put a bullet in her head.”
My hand shoots up instinctively, without thought or hesitation. I slap him hard across the face, the cracking sound echoing throughout the large space. A red palm print forms on his fleshy cheek; his mouth twisted into awful amusement.
He nods to the two men beside him, and they rush to my sides, grabbing my arms.
“Let me go!” I shout, struggling against them. “Now!”
I pull and twist, but it doesn’t do me a bit of good.
Save your strength. Don’t waste it.
If Kolya is bothered or surprised by the slap, he doesn’t show it. He nods again to his men, this time motioning toward the booth behind us. They yank me hard, shoving me into the booth and sitting on both sides of me, blocking me in. Kolya slides in across, Sylvie on the other side.
He turns his attention to Sylvie. “My dear Sylvie, would you be so kind as to fetch me a bit of vodka from behind the bar? The good stuff. I’ve got a bit of talking to do, and I have a feeling it’s going to leave me rather parched.”
Part of me hopes that Sylvie tells him to screw off. But she doesn’t. Instead, she obediently slides out of the booth and makes her way toward the bar. Kolya watches her move, his eyes locked on her hips and ass. It makes me sick to my stomach.
“You know,” he says, settling into his seat. “I have to thank you. Sincerely, I do. Do you know how much time and money I’ve spent over the past twenty years making absolutely certain that the Fetisov line was extinct? The resources, the manpower, the pure tediousness of it.”
He sighs and shakes his head.
“I’d assumed the job was done. My men returned, told me that the Fetisov family and nearly all of the organization’s lieutenants were wiped out. What a feeling.” He straightens, excitement in his eyes. “Do you have any idea how satisfying it is to plan something of that magnitude and successfully execute it?” He chuckles. “Sorry for the poor choice of words, my dear. Anyway, I was riding that high for weeks.”
He goes on. “Then, to my dismay, I find out months later that the job wasn’t completed. As it turns out, the youngest Fetisov daughter, the baby, was at a sleepover that night. And no one seemed to know where.
“Can you believe it? I pay these men for honesty and competence, and I pay them well.” He waves his hand and shakes his head. “Anyway, ancient history. You know what happened, and I know what happened.”
He looks away for a moment before speaking again. “Then, just when I almost have you in my grasp, right as I’m about to buy you and make you mine, that prick Gabriel ruins everything.” His hand is clenched into a fist. He sees me notice and releases it slowly.
It’s at this moment that Sylvie returns. She’s carrying a tray. Atop it is a bottle of vodka and a single glass. I watch as she sets down the glass and fills it. I can tell by her ease in the gesture that she’s done it many times before.
“Thank you, my dear.” Kolya throws back the first shot, then pours another. “Let me be honest, Sylvie has been quite the diversion. But she’s not who I really wanted. The one I really wanted just so happened to march right into the council meeting and announce herself to the entire Bratva.”
“You murdered my family.”
“I did.” His tone is almost pleasant, and my stomach turns. “Your father first. You know what they say—when you shoot the king, don’t miss. I didn’t miss. Then your sister. She fought, by the way. Twelve years old, and she actually swung at one of my men with a fire poker. Your brother was asleep, nothing to report there. Your mother was last.”
I can’t breathe. My vision is swimming and my hands are shaking. The nightclub lights make me feel like I’m on the verge of vomiting. I’m sitting across the table from a monster, describing how he slaughtered my family with the tone you’d reserve for telling coworkers about a fun weekend outing.
“Anyway,” he says, pouring another drink. “I was worried for a little bit. Knowing that the final Fetisov was running around, her mere existence threatening everything I’d worked so hard tobuild.” He taps his hand on the table with excitement. “But that’s all correctable now—thanks to you and your Italian boyfriend. Gabriel always had a little bit too much ambition for his own good. He couldn’t wait to spring you on the council. And when he did, he put a huge target on your back.” He leans forward. “Can’t leave loose ends behind. I learned that lesson the hard way.”
A strange sound escapes me. Something between a whimper and a cry.