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He shrugs, grabbing a baseball bat from Ivan’s meaty hands. “Suit yourself, darling.”
My father lets out a guttural scream as Viktor charges up to him, winding the bat back and letting it go with so much speed that it blurs in the air. The wood hits him in the stomach with a crunchy thud, probably breaking a few lower ribs and knocking the breath out of him.
“That one was just for fun,” Viktor says, looking over his shoulder at me. “You understand the game now, I hope. We’re all crazy here.”
I grit my teeth. He’s putting on a show for me, trying to convince me that he’s unhinged and dangerous. I know he is, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to be like that to me. I won’t allow him to, but all bets are off when it comes to my father.
Mr. Thompson, as Viktor calls him. I think I’d prefer to call him that to, since no good father would sell his daughter to a mafia boss.
I swallow hard as Viktor pulls the bat back again, aiming for Mr. Thompson’s face. My stomach drops, but the swing doesn’t come yet.
“Tell me who you got the wedding information from,” Viktor growls. “One chance, or your face is going to be turned into pudding.”
“Wait,” Mr. Thompson croaks. “Just… give me a second. Is that Sage over there?”
I turn away from him, crossing my arms and hiding my face. I’m not ashamed of being on Viktor’s side, but I don’t want to be emotionally manipulated by that man again. I’m done with him. He’s not my father anymore. I don’t know who he is, but he’s not someone I want to empathize with.
“Don’t worry about her,” Viktor says, and I hear a hint of anger in his voice. He hates Mr. Thompson so much, even more now that he tried to crash our wedding.
I find myself feeling the same.
“Tell me who leaked the wedding plans, or you’re dead. I won’t give you another chance.”
“Okay, okay! You’re nuts, but I get it. I just wanted to be a better man, you know?” Mr. Thompson blurts. “I just.. okay, I’ll tell you. It was Johnny from the casino. He knew about the wedding, and he told me.”
“Not possible,” Viktor says, tapping the bat against his forehead. “Do you think I’m stupid? Johnny is a nobody. He wasn’t invited, and he wouldn’t even know it was happening.”
“But he told me!”
“Tell the truth, motherfucker,” Viktor growls, winding the bat back again.
“I swear, he told me last night when I was there. He said that–”
Mr. Thompson’s words are cut off by a sickening crack, and I know what has happened without even having to look. There’s heat in my face and a tingle of electricity in my feet, but I don’t feel sympathy. I don’t really feel any emotion other than shock.
“I hate a liar,” Viktor grumbles as his bat clatters to the ground. “Ivan, have the guys clean this mess up. The reception is canceled. This party is no longer safe.”
Ivan grunts, and I hear Viktor unzip his hazmat suit. His warm hand find my shoulder, the same hand that swung the bat into a man’s face at full force.
I shiver despite the heat of his touch, pulling my arms tighter around myself as I’m led out of the room. My breathing is short and shallow, but there’s a weird calm feeling inside of me. The end of my previous life, and the beginning of an entirely new one.
It feels like this had to happen, despite how horrible it was.
And I don’t know what it makes me now. A monster like Viktor? I just stood there and dissociated instead of stepping in to prevent this violence. Maybe I’m just as messed up as my husband is, and I’m only just now discovering it.
“Sage, darling,” Viktor says, pulling me close to him as we walk back down the hallway. “I’m sorry it had to be this way. I really am.”
His warmth is fake, but it still feels good when I have nothing left. I hug him, finding comfort in the steady beat of his heart and the heat of his body as we continue walking.
13
Viktor
Ijumped the gun by claiming Sage before the wedding, but perhaps it was for the best because we certainly won’t be having any intimacy tonight. I’m on a mission to find Johnny and ask him what he knows about Mr. Thompson and the leak.
“You’re going to go with Ivan back to the house,” I say to Sage, trying to pry her off my torso.
Her fingers only dig deeper into my ribs, and she makes an unhappy grunt. “I don’t want to be alone,” she whines.
