“I trust him.”
“He left, Loulou,” Irina says, her dark brown eyes set, her elegant shoulders back and unyielding. In her eyes, Toma failed at the only thing she trusted him to do, and it was keeping me safe.
“I don’t care. We need to annihilate his brother. If not now, when? When they’ve abused more women? Men? Children? How many lives are you willing to sacrifice so we strike at therighttime?” They exchange another look and I simmer with frustration. “Speak out.”
“If we take out The Butcher, Toma might not survive,” Aleksei says, face somber, the scars at the corner of his eye more prominent with his frown.
“If you have any affection for me, you’ll let him live.”
“I’m not talking about us, Lu. His brother is the kind to kill everyone in his inner circle so no one compromises the Pakhan. Especially his brother. I doubt he trusts him fully.”
Tiredness settles on my shoulders.
“There’s nothing we can do right now. Get some sleep, Lucie. Tomorrow, when your father gives us news, we’ll reconvene okay?” Dante puts a hand on my shoulder, pressing once in a show of support.
After a short ride with my cousin’s driver, my hotel room welcomes me. Despite the heating on, a cold shiver racks my spine. Fuck, I left the window open in my hurry to get to Dante’s mansion for dinner. I took to smoking since Toma left. Only when I really miss him. The smell reminds me of him. I drop Biscuit down and cross the room, slapping the window down.
She lets out a bark and I turn to see what’s going on. But I can’t turn. A hard body crashes into mine, something thin wrapping around my throat and tightening.
Air catches in my throat. My heart seizes and fear grips me. I can’t slide my fingers under the garrotte. My feet are lifted off the ground by the strong man behind me. White creeps at the edges of my vision, stars dancing, begging me to follow them.
With weak arms, I elbow my attacker but my strength evades my body as oxygen depletes in my lungs.
My head spins.
My eyes stray to the clutch I carried tonight. The glint of the metal carries hope. I struggle more against the heavy arms at my throat. “Why won’t you die, you fucking fat bitch.”
If I hate one thing, it’s careless insults. I’m not getting strangled to death by a man in a hotel room. I deserve better than this second-class death.
“Biscuit,” I breathe her name. Like I just gave her enough courage, my little Chihuahua throws herself at my attacker’s leg and bites him. She whimpers when he dislodges her, but it’s enough. He loses focus, releasing me just enough for air to filter through my mouth into my lungs.
I twist. And dip. Punch his liver with a right hook, then his nose when he doubles over. A satisfying crunch echoes in the room followed by a grunt.
I speed towards my gun but he catches my ankle. I fall head first on the table and cry out. Blood pours from my brow. The table tilts down and the gun slides out of the clutch. Crawling, I reach for it.
The man climbs above me to get it first, pressing my head down with his massive paw. Biscuit is my salvation, once again. My little baby flies from where she hid and bites down on the man’s hands. Blood spurts from the wound but I don’t watch. My eyes are set on my deliverance.
I push on my forearms and reach the gun, unlocking the safety.
“Oh no, you don’t,” the man grits.
He turns me around, blunt nails biting into my shoulders and cheek, and I fire.
Straight into his ugly head.
Blood sprays across my cheek, warm and shocking. His head is thrown back but his body tilts forward and collapses over me. His vacant eyes meet mine and I roll him off with a shudder and a cry.
Body trembling, I scoot away on my ass until my back hits a wall. The gun is warm in my hand. The silence in the room is deafening, my heartbeat loud in comparison. I close my eyes.
I’ve shot someone before. Multiple someones. But this is different. His blood mars my face, pieces of his brain escaping the hole at the back of his head. And the pool grows underneath him, staining the carpet.
Biscuit pads over from where she hid and I take her in my arms. She starts to tremble violently and it’s enough to take me out of my state of shock.
“You’re okay, Biscuit. You’re okay.”
I kiss her head, relieved that she doesn’t seem hurt.
On one hand and knees, I crouch to where my phone has fallen and call Dante. I don’t give him an opportunity to speak.
