A distraction. A warning. A message.
But nothim.
And that… stings in a place I don’t have words for.
I look down at the bracelet again. It glints under the fluorescents.
26
Anton
My eyelid twitches again, and I press my fingers against it, trying to stop the involuntary spasm. It feels like I’m having a fucking stroke, which is ironic, considering what’s actually killing me right now.
Earlier, listening to those cunts tear Mary apart piece by piece had my trigger finger itching. The blonde one—Stephanie—with her passive-aggressive bullshit about Mary’s blouse, her fake concern about “confidence” and “horizontal stripes.” And that other bitch, Janice, snorting like a fucking pig at her own cruelty.
I could end them both. Walk into that bank, grab Stephanie by her bleached roots, and introduce her face to the marble counter until she understands what happens when you talk down to what’s mine. Janice could watch, maybe learn something, before I dealt with her, too.
But that’s not the only reason my left eyelid twitches.
Through my earpiece, I can hear Lev’s voice.
“Hi. I’m here to open a checking account or ruin someone’s day. Dealer’s choice.”
What the fuck?
I sit bolt upright in my chair.
When did I authorize this? When did Lev decide to go cowboy and walk into the goddamn bank without clearance?
I can hear the shift in the bank’s atmosphere even through the tiny microphone: conversations stopping, chairs creaking as people turn to look. Lev has that effect. He walks into a room like he’s collecting debts or souls, depending on his mood.
“Lev,”Mary whispers, and I catch the mix of relief and exasperation in her voice.
“Sweetheart,”he replies, casual as breathing.
Sweetheart?
Yob tvoyu mat.I know what Lev is doing. He knows me too well. Twenty years of brotherhood, and he can read my tells like a map. The bastard went rogue, and he’s enjoying this. I can hear it in his voice, the way he’s deliberately stirring up chaos when he knows I like clean operations. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and worse, he knows what it’s doing to me.
I close my eyes, but that’s a mistake. My mind conjures images I don’t want: Lev’s massive frame crowding her space, those scarred hands of his gesturing as he speaks, Mary’s lips parting slightly when she laughs. The way she might look up at him through those long lashes, the way she might—
She’s going to ruin everything. I can feel it like a fault line under my ribs. Maybe I should’ve ended this the moment she touched my world. Maybe I still should.
Lev says something stupid, and I swear I hear her laugh.
Laugh.
What the fuck is she laughing at?
This isn’t normal. None of this is normal. We don’t do this. We don’t flirt. We don’t giggle in fucking banking lobbies with women wearing pantyhose and trauma. We don’tkeepwomen. Not unless they’re leverage. Not unless they’re bait.
And she… she was supposed to be bait. Disposable.
But now she’s living in my head. And I’m getting fucking emotional with Lev.
This is what happens when you let your guard down for thirty seconds. When you let a woman with doe eyes and a bleeding lip crack something inside you that’s been sealed shut for two decades. She’s not even here, and I can still smell that vanilla perfume clinging to my jacket.
My jaw aches from clenching. The muscles in my neck feel like steel cables about to snap.
