Page 124 of Nemesis

Alex’s voice spurs me back. I glare up at the man who’s only ever offered me smiles and jokes.

“Where were you?”

He blinks. His wrecked expression almost summons my pity. Almost.

“Where. Were. You?” I take care not to rattle my hand in my anger. Dad’s stiff fingers still press into mine. “He needed you. Where were you?” My voice breaks this time, a sob consuming the final word.

“I’m sorry,” he starts, as if his apology means anything. “I⁠—”

“Stop it!” Ben snaps at me, suddenly appearing at his father’s back. “You are not the only one affected!”

But I’m angry with him, too. All these men who train and shoot every day. Where the hell were they when we needed them? I would punch my cousin in the face if it didn’t require me to let go.

“I’m so sorry,” Uncle Alex says, ghosting his hand over my shaking legs. “You’re right. I failed him. I-I failed everyone.”

“We’ll get him back, Dad,” Ben says in a far gentler tone than the one he used with me.

We’ll get him back?

I glance down. The body stopped leaking blood some time ago. His limbs are stiff. His eyes have been shut.

“Who else?” I barely recognize the empty rasp of my own voice. It sounds like another woman uttered the words.

Alex’s gaze pinches, so I turn to Ben for an answer instead. He’s wearing a pressed, white dress shirt, and his beard and mustache are perfectly trimmed. Something about it makes me want to punch him all the more. But then he says the words that rewire my mind.

“They’ve taken Kirill.”

No.

The buzzing bumps up a few octaves in my eardrums. Kirill. Grinning, troublesome Kirill, who hates to fight without his knives and brightens every room.

“Popov?” I ask, somehow managing an even tone.

Ben nods once. “He wants our territory. He’ll probably send a messenger to relay the conditions of his release.”

I shake my head. “It’s a farce. He’ll kill us all either way.”

“I know,” Alex whispers beside us, wiping a palm over his eyes. “But he’s my son. I can’t do nothing.”

No. We can’t do nothing.

I’m surrounded by bodies. Corpses that I hadn’t even noticed while I sat here on the floor. It doesn’t make any sense. My dad is a terrifying Bratva kingpin. His body is not supposed to blend into the carnage. He’s not one of the many. I wipe my damp palms against my pants as I rise. As I let go of Dad’s hand.

“And we can’t launch the first attack?” I question, checking the chamber of my sidearm. Empty. I toss the useless weapon onto the hall carpet and reach for the other still tucked in my belt.

“We only have twenty or so uninjured men to their hundred,” Alex says. He rubs his skull, as if every word pains him. “They wiped out our immediate forces on their way into the compound.”

I glance around. Everyone remaining has gathered here. The hall feels incredibly small with so many people, but it doesn’t take long to note the massive dent in our forces. Blood streaks pale faces. Arms are being bandaged. None of the men from my group is among the injured. No, they’re all splayed across the floor.

There’s only one other woman present. Aunt Juliet sobs in the far corner while Maksim and Nik console her, whispering words I can’t make out. Alex’s gaze keeps flicking back to his wife and boys, as if he’s torn between comforting them and me. I regret yelling at him.

“Do we have any allies at our disposal?”

“Sasha reached out to our old allies when we found your name on the hit list,” Alex responds hopelessly. “None of them came through for him. I doubt they’d come through for us.”

All I can see is the bright-eyed boy who gave me my first cigarette. The first to accept me into his family with open arms and optimistic jokes. And now he’s taken, suffering a fate you know all too well.

“Well, how do we find more, then?”