Page 113 of Essence of Fear

Viktoria shook her head. “It’s okay.”

It really wasn’t.

But it would be.

“I should fucking let him suffer,” Konstantin said, digging in his pocket to pull out a ringing phone. “He should suffer, Vik.”

She couldn’t let that happen.

The gun at her feet—Boris’—gained her attention. Her brother was too busy looking at the screen of his phone while still pointing his gun at the man groaning on the floor. She didn’t even think about it before she bent down, plucked up the gun, aimed, and fired.

The last thing Boris saw before the bullet plugged into his forehead?

Viktoria.

It was what he deserved.

It’s what she deserved.

Konstantin said nothing, but he did nod before offering the phone to her. She didn’t understand what he was doing, and the only thing she really wanted right then was to ask where in the hell Pavel was and why he wasn’t here.

With her.

Where she needed him.

Konstantin nodded at the phone. “Take it and call Kolya back. Pav will be there to take the phone, too. I couldn’t have them here. Not when I needed people I trusted to be with Vadim, too. I couldn’t trust anyone, remember? I needed people there, too. So, they had to go, yes? But I couldn’t explain that to them. And what if he had a backup? What if he had something else that he could use against me that I hadn’t planned for? At least they would be there … if we all died here, they would be there to end him, too.”

So yeah, he was just like their father.

Just enough.

Enough to make the hard choices.

She didn’t tell him that, though.

Viktoria took the phone.

20.

“IT SHOULD be done by now.”

Vadim’s gaze finally drifted away from Pav, but only long enough to check the clock. He could see the wheels turning in the man’s head—working out the time difference between here, and Chicago, before he nodded.

“Yes, I believe it should be done,” Vadim said.

The smile that turned on Pav could only be described as fucking sadistic. This asshole was ridiculously proud of the fact he was about to—if he hadn’t already—arrange the murder of his second son and hand his daughter to a monster like she was a gift for him to devour.

There was rage, sure.

But there was hatred, too.

Hatred was a whole different kind of beast for Pav. He could subdue his rage—he could feed it with something other than violence to keep it in its cage until he was ready to act upon it. Hatred, though?

He couldn’t control that at all.

Right then, it’s all he felt, too.

At some point during their time with Vadim, Kolya had pulled a chair across the room, and forced Pav to sit in it whether he wanted to or not. That was fine—he continued to sit right in front of Vadim, regardless of the man’s opinion of his proximity. He wanted a constant reminder on Vadim’s mind of what was coming for him soon.