The words hung in the air for a beat.
Then Hailey’s hand froze mid-pour.
She was refilling drinks for a couple at the end of the bar, but she stopped completely, her dark eyes going wide. She set the bottle down with exaggerated care and turned to face us, her entire posture shifting from casual bartender to something more intense.
“Wait.” Her voice cut through the ambient noise. “Bass? Why the fuck are you guys talking about that shitty creature?”
The lounge noise faded into background static. Drew and I both turned to stare at Hailey. Damir shifted on his stool, his expression going from relaxed to alert in an instant.
“You know him?” I asked, my fingers tightening on the glass.
“Know him? No. But I know of him.” Hailey’s jaw was tight, her hands clenched on the bar. “How do you know about Bass?”
“Answer his question first,” Damir said, his voice dropping into that low register that meant business. “How do you know about him? Did you ever see him?”
Hailey took a deep breath, shaking her head. Her hands unclenched slowly, deliberately, like she was forcing herself to stay calm. “I’ve never met him. Never saw his face. But Barbara’s mentioned him. And trust me when I say”—she looked directly at me, her eyes blazing—“Bass is not Barbara’s boyfriend.”
The words hit me like a physical blow. “What?”
“He’s not her boyfriend,” Hailey repeated, each word precise and cutting. “He’s her half-brother. And he’s a real psycho.”
The world tilted sideways.
Half-brother. Not boyfriend. Half-brother.
Everything I thought I knew, every assumption I’d made about Barbara, about her situation, about why she was protecting this bastard, crashed down around me like a building with its foundations blown out.
“His name is Sebastian,” Hailey continued, her voice hard with barely controlled rage. “Sebastian Davis. Andrew’s son from his first marriage. And he’s got something on Barbara. I don’t know what; she’s never told us the details. But he’s been blackmailing her since she was sixteen. Always demanding money. Terrorizing her.”
My mind raced, trying to recalculate everything. The phone calls. The fear. The way she’d looked when I accused her of having a boyfriend. The way she’d tried to tell me it was complicated, but couldn’t find the words.
The gun he’d held to her in the hallway.
Because it wasn’t a boyfriend. It was family. It was blackmail.
It was so much worse than I’d imagined.
“Andrew cut ties with Sebastian years ago,” Hailey went on, pouring herself a shot of vodka and downing it in one smooth motion. “Due to shady activities. The guy’s involved in all sorts of illegal shit. But he keeps coming back to Barbara. Keeps demanding money. And she keeps paying because….” Hailey stopped, shaking her head. “Because of whatever he has on her. Whatever leverage he’s using.”
“Fuck.” Drew breathed the word, his eyes cutting to me. “Kirill….”
But I wasn’t listening. Couldn’t hear anything over the roaring in my ears. Over the sound of every piece of the puzzle clicking into place with devastating clarity.
The forged security footage. The loops that let him sneak into the mansion. The gun pressed to her ribs. The terror in her eyes every time his name appeared on her screen.
Not a boyfriend terrorizing his girlfriend.
A brother blackmailing his sister.
The glass in my hand cracked.
I felt the sharp pain of glass cutting into my palm, warm blood mixing with scotch. But I couldn’t let go. Couldn’t unclench my fingers from where they’d tightened with enough force to shatter crystal.
Because the rage burning through my veins demanded somewhere to go. Demanded an outlet. Demanded violence that I couldn’t deliver without breaking Vladimir’s promise.
“Fuck.” The word came out through gritted teeth, forced past the fury that was trying to consume me. “Fuck.”
Damir was suddenly there, prying the broken glass from my hand, wrapping a bar towel around my bleeding palm. “Easy, brother. Easy.”
