Before I can say anything else, a hot surge rolls through my stomach. The room tilts, the ashtray reek and cheap air-freshener colliding like bad liquor.
“T? You okay?” Jack’s voice tunnels.
“I’m fine,” I lie, hand over my mouth.
Another wave hits and I bolt for the bathroom. I lock the door, clutching the sink as another wave of nausea kneads my gut. The mirror is streaked, but I can still see my reflection. My skin looks blotched, mascara smudged under one eye.Pull it together, Teresa.
The smell of mildew sets me off. I lunge to the toilet just in time, breakfast and nerves spilling into rust-stained porcelain. Acid burns my throat as tears spring to my eyes.
I rinse my mouth, splash water on my face, and try to breathe through the lingering queasiness. When I open the door the TV is silent. The air feels pressurized. Jack stands in the center, hands raised, a matte-black pistol kissing the hinge of his jaw.
Vlad and Dmitri are in the room too.
“What the…” The words fall out dumbly.
Dmitri holds the gun, expressionless. Vlad is beside him—no visible weapon, yet somehow, he appears more lethal. Jack’s cigarette dangles from his mouth, ash long and ready to fall.
“Teresa,” Jack croaks when he sees me. “Tell them.”
Vlad doesn’t take his eyes off Jack. “Explain,” he says quietly, though the undertone could split steel.
My pulse slams. “I hired a PI to find Jack. Thought it best to come and talk to him by myself.”
Dmitri gives me a once-over, making sure I’m not hurt. He presses the muzzle harder and Jack winces.
“Your brother tried to run when we arrived,” Vlad says. “Only cowards and those guilty of something run.”
“Enough. Both of you. Let’s just?—”
“Quiet,solnishka.” Vlad’s eyes still don’t leave my brother. “I want to know what the hell is going on.”
He subtly tilts his head, and Dmitri moves without a sound, holstering the gun just long enough to grab Jack by the back of the neck and shove him into the desk chair. The cuffs click home before Jack can draw another full breath.
“Get your hands off me!” Jack thrashes, but Dmitri pins my brother in place, Jack glaring up like a cornered fox. Without warning, Jack goes for the jugular. “Tell her, Vlad. Tell her how you killed our parents, sabotaging their plane so you could move in on everything. Tell her the truth about Maxim’s murder. You think I don’t see you for what you are?”
The room contracts around his words. Vlad stands stone-still, hands loose at his sides, but his eyes… there’s a moment, one terrible moment, where I think he might put a bullet in my brother right then and there.
Instead, he blinks slowly, then turns to me. “Are you alright? I heard you in the bathroom.”
“I’m fine,” I reply curtly, though my stomach’s still doing uneasy flips.
“Good.” He looks back at Jack, his expression unreadable. “Now, what to do about this brother of yours.”
The tension in the room is so thick it’s almost visible. The only sound is the faint tick of the baseboard heater. I can’t tell if the next moment will end in blood or something far worse.
CHAPTER 24
VLAD
Teresa’s eyes are on me, wide and searching, while her brother’s words hang in the air like smoke.
Killed our parents. Killed Maxim.
The kind of accusations that stain, even if they are lies. Especially when they’re lies.
Jack is breathing hard and fast, wrists biting against the steel cuffs. He’s starting to panic—shoulders twitching, legs bouncing, eyes flicking to the door like a trapped animal. He thinks he’s winning with his accusations. Men like him always mistake noise for power.
I step closer. “You walk into my city, into my territory, and spit fairy tales in my face.” I crouch, level with him, so we can be eye-to-eye. “But here’s the difference between us, Jack. I don’t run when I’m afraid. I don’t hide in motels reeking of cigarettes and bad choices.”
