“Tony, it’s me. It’s Sophia. We’re getting you out of here.”
My hands shake as I work at the ropes binding his wrists. They’re loose, I realize with growing dread. Too loose. As if they were never meant to hold him at all.
Tony’s head lifts, and when his green eyes meet mine, they’re clear and focused. Not the eyes of someone who’s been tortured and beaten. Not the eyes of a prisoner.
The eyes of a predator.
“Hello, sister,” he says, and his voice is cold, empty of the warmth I remember.
He moves faster than I can process, the ropes falling away as he stands.
His hand closes around my throat, and suddenly I’m being dragged backward, away from Mikhail and our men who have fanned out around the room.
“Don’t move,” Tony calls out, and I feel the cold press of a gun barrel against my temple.
“Tony, what are you doing?” The words come out strangled, my mind refusing to accept what’s happening. “It’s me. It’s Sophia.”
“I know exactly who you are.” His grip tightens, cutting off more of my air. “You’re the sister who chose her father’s killer over her own blood.”
“What?” I claw at his arm, trying to breathe. “Lorenzo…lied to you. He’s been…lying to everyone.”
“Lorenzo told me the truth.” Tony’s voice is hard, certain. “He told me how Mikhail Artyomov tortured and murdered our father. How he made Dad beg for his life before putting a bullet in his head. And you married him. You spread your legs for the man who killed our father.”
The words hit like physical blows. I see Mikhail tense, see the guilt and rage warring in his expression.
Around us, our men have their weapons raised, but no one dares shoot with Tony holding me.
“Dad was trying to save Nicole,” I gasp out. “Lorenzo framed him. He orchestrated everything.”
“Lies.” Tony’s laugh is bitter. “Lorenzo showed me the evidence. Photos, videos, witness statements. Dad was one of the men who raped that girl. And Artyomov killed him for it.”
“No.” Tears stream down my face. “Tony, please… Lorenzo is manipulating you… He’s been manipulating all of us.”
“The only one being manipulated is you.” Tony’s breath is hot against my ear. “Lorenzo saved me. When that drunk driverhit my car, when I was bleeding out on the side of the road, Lorenzo’s men found me. They got me to a hospital, paid for my treatment, gave me a new life. And in return, all he asked was that I help him out.”
My vision blurs at the edges, whether from lack of oxygen or shock, I can’t tell.
This can’t be happening.
My brother can’t be working for Lorenzo.
Can’t be the enemy.
“Let her go, Tony.” Mikhail’s voice cuts through my panic, calm and controlled. “Your fight is with me, not her.”
“My fight is with both of you.” Tony shifts, and I feel the gun press harder against my skull. “She chose you over family. Over blood. That makes her a traitor.”
“She didn’t know the truth,” Mikhail says, and I hear the desperation creeping into his voice. “None of us did. Lorenzo has been playing us all.”
“Shut up!” Tony’s shout echoes off the factory walls. “You don’t get to talk about truth. You tortured my father. You made him suffer. And now you’re going to watch your wife die the same way.”
Another wave of nausea hits me, stronger than before. My knees buckle, and only Tony’s grip keeps me upright. The room tilts sickeningly.
“Tony, please.” I force the words out past the constriction in my throat. “Remember when we were kids. Remember…how youused to protect me from Dad when he was drunk. Remember the promises we made to always look out for each other.”
For just a moment, I feel his grip loosen. See something flicker in his eyes that might be recognition, might be doubt.
“That was before you betrayed everything we stood for,” he says, but his voice wavers slightly.
