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Frozen on the spot, she was unable to get another word out. Only when Sy gestured for her to get back into her room, did she move.
She stomped back to the balcony. Her hands clutched the rails when she saw the two groups of men had taken position across each other. Viking, Baran, and Yuri on one side. And three on the other side that she assumed were Russians. It looked like a standoff.
“It’s Vasili’s demand for your pound of flesh,” Sy explained. “Blood for blood.” He stood next to her, a ball of angry energy, staring at the group.
“I’m surprised you’re not by his side.”
“He didn’t pick me.” Sy sounded offended.
“Well, I’m sure he had his reasons,” she tried to console him.
“He does. It’s called love. Something you would know nothing about.”
And there it was: the next icepick pierced right into her heart.
“It’s because of me,” Elena said softly. She should’ve known that simply marrying her wouldn’t have been enough. In their violent world, it never was enough. Not until blood flowed.
“Yeah, because of you and because of the way Vasili acted. He was a guest. It’s disrespectful to paw at your host’s maid.”
“I’m not a maid.”
He shrugged. “Vasili didn’t know that, so you might as well have been.”
“Why are you telling me this?” She figured he’d try to add to her guilt, not lessen it.
“Carmen told me to,” he somewhat begrudgingly explained. “She told me how you tried to save her back at the club during the shooting.”
Ah yes, Carmen Caruso. The widow of Franco “The Butcher” Caruso, the leader of one of the Families. She had heard of him and his taste for hurting women. It had been whispered in the corners of the Morelli mansion. She had felt a connection to Carmen the night they met in the bathroom of the club. They both lived in the same world, in a similar circumstance, though Carmen was far more damaged than she had ever been. At least on the outside. Elena hadn’t seen her after that fateful night they had almost been shot.
“How is she?”
He suddenly beamed. “Very pregnant.”
Ah, that explained why Viking didn’t pick Sy to fight beside him: because he was becoming a dad.
“I’m glad.”
“I want my kid to know his uncle.” Sy sounded cold again, accusatory even, as if she had somehow sentenced Viking to death or something.
“I’m sure Viking will be fine. If there’s one thing he’s good at, it’s kicking ass.”
She’d meant it in a way to reassure him, and herself, she had to admit. Viking was big, mean, and had been raised on the streets. There was no way those Russians were going to wipe the floor with him.
A muscle jumped in Sy’s jaw. “I almost killed you back then, you know.”
The change of subject almost gave her whiplash. “What?”
“That day, when you left the chapel on the arm of your husband, we were standing on the rooftop across the street. Viking, Kristoff, and me. I had my rifle with me and was about to put a bullet through your head, and Morelli’s, when Viking stopped me.”
Heart pounding, knees shaking, all she could do was listen, feeling stumped.
“All those years, I wondered why he stopped me,” Sy continued. “I mean, if you’d been mine, I would have put a bullet through your brain, no questions asked. Now, seeing you like this, pale and broken, I understand. See, I’m not a patient man. I say it like it is and act the way I want. There’s where we differ I guess, my brother and I. Viking can never let go of someone he loves. He’d go through hell for them.
“Thing is, he can’t let go of someone he hates either. One time we took down this guy who had abused a few of our strippers. Viking tortured the guy for days until he put him down. In the end, he begged Viking to end him. Then, and only then, was Viking satisfied. He could finally let go.” His gaze locked on to her. “Beg him to end you, Elena. Ask him to end it. My brother’s been working on a fuel of hate for you for over a decade. He deserves peace. If he survives this, you need to give him that. You fucking owe him.”
She didn’t notice the tears streaming down her cheek until his eyes fell on them. Taking a ragged breath, she wiped them away.
Then something else hit her. “Wait. What do you mean, if he survives this?”
