Both Milosh and Gemma are missing their eyes, their tongues. Fingers are spread through the space like the killer used them as fucking confetti. Even in my worst memories, there’s nothing as vile and bloody.
I put my weapon into my holster at my thigh and pick my phone from my pocket, but my eyes snag on a small detail by the couch. A single word has been written with a string of entrails.
Split.
Rage is a poison spreading through my veins slowly. Of course this is my brother’s doing. Hate is too gentle a word for what I feel for him.
Before I dial Dante again, I check the cameras I have placed in the building. Speeding through the recording of last night, I find what I’m looking for. Around ten pm, the video goes blurry for a second. And then again around ten forty-five. That was around the time Lucie was at Mina’s flat, and I watched her from the other side of the street, hidden behind a tree that could barely cover my whole frame.
Fuck.
They managed to find and compromise my cameras. I’ll have to do more digging at home to see if I can recover the footage and see if they entered Lucie’s flat.
I look down again, at the two people I was about to kill. I’d have never done anything like this. They may have failed their protection mission, but they deserved dignity, even in death. Not this show of violence and darkness.
I have a choice to make.
If I call Dante again, he’ll remove Lucie from Edinburgh whether she wants it or not, and lock her up in his castle. That’s the most logical option.
I glance behind my shoulder as if I could see her through the walls.
You’re a monster, born in Hell, destined for Hell. Remember that.
My father’s voice echoes in my head, steeling something inside me once more. There is no place for sentimentality or hesitation where duty is concerned. After all, that’s what the Venturas are all about.
I can become the monster that will protect her. My soul means nothing if I can’t make sure she leads the life she wants. And she doesn’t want a tower of bulletproof glass to protect her. She wants to be normal, away from mafia life. Here.
I cannot fail Lucie.
If I’m not a monster, a demon of death and retribution, she won’t be protected. All I do is for her.
I straighten my shoulders, my decision made. I’ll add more cameras, be more vigilant. And get closer to her so I can make sure she’s truly safe. It’s the only way.
I call Dante who sends me a team. When they see the blood and the corpses, they send me wary looks and give me a wide berth. Better they believe it was me. I don’t tell Dante about who truly killed Gemma and Milosh. I don’t bring them to the pig farm, either. I ask the clean up crew to prepare the bodies for burial and to give me the keys to their car. They don’t hesitate to obey.
Making sure I keep an eye on Lucie’s tracker the whole way through, I drive Milosh and Gemma’s bodies to a plot of land near a lake, and bury them with as much respect as I can. I don’t know any prayer but I stand vigil for longer than I realise when the sun starts to go down behind the canopies of trees.
I’ve never grieved for anyone but my mother. But today, I wish things had been different for Gemma and Milosh. I wish I didn’t have to lie.
But guilt has no place in my life.
Only Lucie does.
ELEVEN
LUCIE
Hangovers are the worst.This is why I don’t drink.
This insistent pounding in my head as if someone was running an ice pick through my eyes and turning my brain into mush is the worst feeling in the world. I should know, I used to have one at least three nights a week.
But becoming a Bratva wife for half a year has turned me into a sober version of myself. Yet, I drank last night like I still knew how. Newsflash. I don’t. And I have no interest in going back to my old habits, either.
The group chat with Dante, Aleksei and Irina is going wild, asking if I’m okay.
Shit.
I called them to hide a dead body and ghosted them without actually telling them that I was home safe.
