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It was Judgment Time.
The men gathered around the table. Kristoff locked eyes with him, then took out his gun. He’d brought a six-shot revolver with him for the occasion. After all, Sokolov appreciated tradition. And he sure was going to enjoy this one as it wasn’t every day someone volunteered to have their brains blown out.
Kristoff took out the bullets, one by one. Then he grabbed one off the table and placed it back into the piece. He gave the chamber a spin.
A silence fell in the back yard.
Viking braced himself. A one-in-six chance to turn his brain into mush. He’d dealt with worse odds. He could feel all eyes settle on him. There was a movement in one of the upstairs windows, the room with the balcony, which had housed Elena for the past few days. Was Elena watching this? She must know what was going on by now. Sy would have told her. Was she hoping she’d become a widow again?
Maybe you shouldn’t have treated her like crap.
She deserved it.
Life is short.
Viking knew what was coming. He knew the chances of this being his last day on Earth. He wasn’t afraid to die, never had been. He’d been afraid lots of times in his teens, about other things. Afraid his dad wouldn’t come back from another tour, afraid he’d fail to look after his mom and brother as he’d promised to his father. When he met Elena, he’d been afraid he wouldn’t be good enough for her, that she’d someday wake up and leave him, hating him for robbing her of her dreams. In the end, that did happen. She’d left him, just as Giorgia had predicted. Just as Elena’s brother Ricky had told him. Would he have done things differently knowing that one day she would be his possible downfall not once but twice? That she’d be the reason he’d be forced to walk the Earth every day waking up smelling her on his skin? Every damn morning hearing her laugh? As Kristoff gestured him closer, he looked back up to the railing one last time.
Nah, he wouldn’t have done one fucking thing differently. She’d been his the moment he set eyes on her. Maybe she was a punishment for all the bad he’d done, the people he’d hurt. Maybe she was given to him wrapped as the most enchanting gift to enrich his world, just to be snatched away from him, making him bleed. Whatever it was—divine punishment, karma, or some other shit—she was his now. He didn’t intend to die today. But if he did, his lights would go out knowing he’d lived his life to the fullest. He had the best friends—no, brothers—both blood and chosen, he could ever have. He’d go to his grave knowing love to the point of obsession and losing it, but he had gained a daughter. He could’ve done worse.
Ball and chain. Yeah, that idea appealed much more to him. If he lived to see another sunrise, he was gonna treat her like a mafia wife. Having made up his mind, a weight he didn’t realize he was carrying lifted off his chest.
Hating to postpone the inevitable, he pushed past Baran and stood before Kristoff.
“You are my bratan,” Kristoff stated.
Damn right. They were brothers by choice. Their bond was stronger than blood ties.
“But you are also brigadier in my Bratva,” Kristoff continued. “Last night. you broke a vow to a Pakhan. As per our tradition, now chance will rule whether you deserve to live, acquitted from your wrongdoing, or die. Viking Skarsgard, do you have any last words?”
Kristoff had a way with words. Viking did not.
“Let’s get this over with.” He grabbed the gun and placed it to his temple. Then he looked his friend in the eye and pulled the trigger.
CHAPTER 18
ELENA
Viking held a gun to his own head. Elena’s heart stopped. For a few precious seconds, she couldn’t feel it beating. Maybe it would never start again. Then she heard a click, a sound so small and loud at the same time. Her knees buckled.
Sy hauled her back up to his side.
“I think I’m going to be sick.” Her stomach obviously agreed with her because the next second she heaved. She rushed to the bathroom and hung over the toilet bowl. It took several minutes to empty the contents of her stomach.
When she returned, she found Sy still standing at the window. His hands were in his pockets, his stance relaxed. She didn’t know what to say. All she knew was she had been so close to losing Viking. Feeling sick to her stomach again, she dropped into a recliner next to him.
A hysterical laugh escaped her lips, echoing like a cannon shot in the room. Sy turned, his eyes narrowed.
Elena couldn’t stop herself. Not even the ominous look in her brother-in-law’s eyes—oh, God, little Sy was an in-law now—could deter her.
“What the fuck.” More curse words followed as tears streamed down her face.
With her arms wrapped around her stomach, she couldn’t stop laughing. This was just too good. Fate had given her the middle finger again.
“If you knew the irony of this, you’d be laughing too,” she hiccupped. The trials and errors she had gone through to keep that man alive, and then he just callously put a gun to his head. “Click.” She clucked her tongue.
Sy swore. “Stop laughing. He’ll be here any minute and—”
“And what? He’ll lock me in a cellar again?” She sobered up. “How dare he shoot himself?” The more she thought about it the angrier she got. “How dare he!”
