Atticus made an outraged sound. “Hand it over. Thegame’s done, Caro. You’ve had your fun, but now you’re caught.”
Except Roman lifted a hand to stop me. “The girl hasearned the money.”
Atticus and I were both stunned silent.What?
“No,” Atticus argued after he’d recovered. “That moneyis mine.”
“And you lost it to a child. That’s your fault, nothers. Let this be a lesson, Atticus. You want to be avor, but you’re not even aware ofcommon pickpockets.”
I felt Atticus’s defeat rock through his body. If hedidn’t hate me before, he would certainly hate me now. And he would definitelymurder me.
“Now back to work you go,”Dymetrusordered. “You’ll need your wages even more after tonight.”
Atticus swallowed thickly, probably the pride thatrefused to wash itself down, and turned around. But before he’d made it twosteps, Roman called after him. “And you’re not to lay a hand on this girl. Weare not in the business of hurting children, Atticus. Is that understood?”
I turned just enough to watch Atticus nod stiffly. “Iunderstand,” he said. And then stalked back to his table.
For some idiotic reason, I felt more vulnerable nowthat Atticus wasn’t here with me. Sure, he wanted to gut me. But he was alsothe buffer between me and thepakhan. Now it was just me standing before them and I had noidea why they hadn’t dismissed me yet.
“Th-thank y-you,” I toldthem, deciding that was what they were waiting for.
“What did you really take?” Roman asked. My heartpicked up speed, racing in my chest. He stared at me with crystal clearclarity, like he could see right through me, like he could see every thought inmy head and unspoken word hiding on my tongue.
The truth sat there, waiting to be confessed. Ofcourse, I would tell him the truth. Lying to RomanVolkovwas the stupidest thing I could do.
It was suicide.
He would probably pull out his gun and shoot me righthere in front of his men. In front of my dad.
And yet, I couldn’t make myself tell him what hewanted to hear. I’d gotten away with it. Atticus’s wallet had been adistraction and it had worked.
I wasn’t going to give up Sayer’s chain.
I’d earned it.
“His money,” I said, the words wrapped with confidenceI didn’t feel.
Roman took a menacing step forward, threatening mewith his body. He rippled with power. Cruel intent vibrated off him like apalpable thing in the air. This man wasn’t just dangerous, he was evil. He hadthe authority to end me. And Sayer. And my dad. He was everything bad guys weremade of and he knew I wasn’t telling the truth. “Don’t lie to me.”
My chin lifted in defiance and the lie hiding in myinner being became a feral creature protecting the truth. It prowled back andforth inside me, baring razor-sharp teeth dripping with venom. “You’re my dad’sboss,” I told him. “I would never lie to you.” I turned to my dad, shooting hima terrified look. My eyes begged him to help me.
When I looked back at Roman, his perceptive gaze hadnarrowed. “Your dad works for me, but do you really know who I am?”
I dropped my eyes, a play of respect, and tucked myhands into my pockets. My fingertips brushed the chain, but I kept myexpression the same. “Y-you’re thepakhan.”
“That’s right,” he confirmed gently, softer than I’dever heard him speak before. He wanted me to trust him, to let down my guard.“I’m thepakhan.Which means I am the ultimate authority. I own all of the men in thiswarehouse. I own your father. And most of all, I own you. I’ll give you onemore chance to tell me the truth, child. Tell me what you took from Atticus andyou’ll be free, without consequences. Lie to me again and I will break both ofyour dad’s hands. Is that what you want? Do you want me to break your father’shands?”
I hiccupped a sob and it was real. Shaking my headback and forth, I sniffled, “No, please don’t. Please don’t hurt my daddy.”
His voice remained cold, completely devoid of emotion.“Then tell me what you really took from Atticus.”
My lungs shuddered as I tried to steady my breathing.The truth pushed forward in my mouth, demanding that I spill it.
I had no doubt that Roman would follow through withhis threat. Boris moved toward my dad, putting a heavy hand on his shoulder.
My dad wasn’t a small man, but Boris towered over him.All bulk and Russian grit, the spy was made of only muscle and hatred. Daddidn’t say anything, but his eyes pleaded with me to give Roman whatever hewanted.
The truth.
