The rage I’ve been containing explodes.
I’m around the desk before I realize I’ve moved, grabbing Viktor by the throat and slamming him against the wall. His head cracks against the drywall, and he lets out a choked gasp.
“Don’t you ever,” I growl, “mention my sister again.”
He claws at my hand, trying to pry my fingers loose. “You’re making a mistake—”
“The mistake was yours. Coming here. Threatening me. Thinking you could touch anyone in my family.”
His face is turning red. Purple. His eyes bulge as he struggles for breath.
“I know what you had planned for Anya,” I continue. “I know you were gathering information on her. Digging into her past. Looking for leverage.” I lean closer until my face is inches from his. “You were going to turn my sister into one of your girls.”
He shakes his head frantically, but I see the truth in his eyes. The confirmation.
“I stopped you before you could find anything useful. Before you could hurt her.” I slam him against the wall again, and he wheezes. “But you came here anyway. You threatened her to my face. Do you have any idea how stupid that was?”
He’s gasping now, and his struggles weaken. Some distant part of my brain notes that I should stop. That I’m in my office, in the middle of the day, and killing this man here would create problems I can’t solve.
But all I can think about is Anya. Sweet, rebellious Anya, who’s been through enough in her life without scum like Viktor Sokolov adding to her pain. Who trusts me to protect her. Who has no idea how close she came to becoming another one of his victims.
I think about our mother. About what she did to us. About the years of abuse and manipulation that left scars none of us talk about.
Anya survived that. She doesn’t deserve to be prey for another predator.
I squeeze harder.
“Menlow, stop!”
The voice cuts through my rage like a blade. I freeze with my hand still wrapped around Viktor’s throat and turn my head.
Kirsten is in the doorway. She must have forgotten something.
And now she’s staring at me with horror written across every feature.
“Let him go,” she pleads. “Please. You’re going to kill him.”
I look back at Viktor. His face is purple, his lips are blue, and his eyes are rolling back in his head. Another few seconds and he’ll be unconscious. Another minute after that, and he’ll be dead.
I release him.
He crumples to the floor, gasping and coughing, clutching his throat with both hands. I step back, flexing my fingers, watching him writhe without feeling anything but cold satisfaction.
“Menlow.” Kirsten’s voice again. Softer now, but still scared. “What… What is this? Who is he?”
I don’t answer. Can’t answer. Because if I open my mouth right now, I don’t know what will come out.
The door bursts open behind Kirsten, and Pavel rushes in. He takes one look at Viktor on the floor, then at me, then at Kirsten standing frozen between us.
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “I told you not to do anything stupid.”
“Get him out of here.”
Pavel moves past Kirsten and hauls Viktor to his feet. The older man is still gasping, still clutching his throat, but Pavel shows no mercy. He twists Viktor’s arm behind his back and shoves him toward the door.
“This isn’t over,” Viktor rasps. “You’ll pay for this—”
Pavel slams him against the doorframe. “Shut up.” He looks at me over his shoulder. “I’ll handle him. Clean this up.”
