“Al,” I ask, “are you okay?”
He doesn’t answer right away. He runs a finger carefully along the sharp edge of the blade.
Then he looks at me, and I see something in his eyes I’ve never seen before.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “I’m okay.”
He’s lying. I know he’s lying. But before I can call him on it, we hear footsteps outside. Heavy boots on the tile floor of the kitchen.
“Shit!” Aleksei hisses. “He’s early. Get in the freezer. Now.”
I scramble off the crate and lunge for the walk-in. My heart is pumping so hard I can feel it in my throat, in my fingertips, everywhere.
Aleksei follows me to the door. “Remember,” he whispers, “wait for my signal.”
I nod and step inside. The cold hits me immediately, that familiar, bone-deep chill that makes my teeth ache.
Aleksei’s hand shoots out and grabs my shoulder. “Semyon,” he sighs, “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for wh?—?”
The door slams shut.
I hear the latch click into place.
Then I hear something else: the scrape of metal on metal. The clunk of something heavy being wedged against the door.
“Al?” I call out, my voice already climbing toward panic. “Aleksei, what are you doing?”
No answer.
I throw myself against the door, but it doesn’t budge. He’s blocked it from the outside. Locked me in.
“ALEKS!” I scream, pounding my fists against the metal. “LET ME OUT!”
Still nothing. I hear voices in the kitchen. Aleksei’s, smooth and calm, greeting the bookie.
I press my ear against the door, straining to hear.
“… appreciate you meeting me,” the man is saying. “I know it’s late, but I thought we could discuss?—”
“Yeah, about that,” Aleksei interrupts. His voice has gone flat and dead. “There’s been a change of plans.”
A pause. Then: “What do you mean?”
“I mean you fucked up. You stole from people who don’t forgive that kind of thing.”
The accountant’s voice pitches higher. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I never?—”
“Don’t insult me by lying,” spits my brother, colder than I’ve ever heard.
“Please, I have a family, I have kids?—”
“Should’ve thought of that before you took what wasn’t yours.”
I’m still pounding on the door, screaming Aleksei’s name, but he doesn’t respond.
The bookie is begging now. “Please, please, I’ll pay it back, I’ll do whatever you want, just please don’t?—!”
