Page 20

Anton doesn’t flicker; he’s stone. I’ve watched him dismantle a man’s life with the same expression he uses to drink coffee. I’ve seen him listen to someone beg and tilt his head slightly—not in pity, but in curiosity, as if he’s studying a sound. He’s the most sadistic person I’ve ever come across.

Viktor, his cousin, comes close to being that level of sadist too. The difference is that Viktor hides it better. Viktor smiles. He charms. His face is beautiful, open and deceptively soft-looking. You wouldn’t see the fracture underneath unless you get close to him, and by the time you realize how unhinged he is, it’s too late.

“Thank you for this, Tristan,” Anton says. “I’ll be returning to the States in two days. Are you up for drinks this weekend?”

“Of course, dipshit.” I reply, starting the engine.

He scoffs faintly, and I barely catch the rest of his words as my eyes lock onto a speeding car.

I recognize the driver instantly.

Julian.

I watch the taillights drive down the street.

“Anyway, I’m heading home,” I tell Anton. “I need a—”

BOOM.

A deafening blast rips through the night.

Light swallows the street in a violent bloom of orange and white. The shockwave hits a fraction of a second later, slamming into my car hard enough to make the windows rattle.

My ears ring, and for a moment, there’s nothing but silence.

Then shocked screams from people around.

“Shit, Tristan, what was that?” Anton asks, alarmed. “Are you alright?”

I stare at the inferno.

Julian’s car is swallowed whole. What’s left of it is twisted metal engulfed in flames. Fire roars upward as if it’s hungry, and black smoke claws at the sky.

“Julian’s car just exploded, and he was in it,” I say slowly. “Did you do that?”

“What?” Anton’s surprise is genuine. “No, I haven’t sent anyone yet.”

My brows knit as I stare at the burning wreckage.

“I’ll call you back.”

I hang up, and just as I reach for the door handle, my phone buzzes with a message.

Yikes, guess he didn’t see that coming.

I blink once, twice, then let out a disbelieving scoff. Before I can even decide how to respond, another text appears.

Ugh, he was actually useful because he took such hot photos of me.

I would’ve hired him if he weren’t such a bum.

Useful?

I stare at the burning wreckage.

Then at the text.

Then back at the flames.