Page 137 of Emerald Vices

Everything falls into hyper-focus. I’ve never felt steadier in my life. I raise my gun and point it right at Viktor.

One clean shot. That’s all it would take.

My finger is on the trigger. I’m just about to squeeze when he whips around suddenly and hisses, “You.”

Not so long ago, Katya introduced me to a handsome young man with a little more sleaze than charm.

Now, he’s hardly human. His cheeks are hollow. His eyes have caved into their sockets, leaving nothing behind but dark, purpled circles. He’s lost so much weight that the shirt on his back protrudes out in harsh points over his joints.

“Viktor.”

“Come for the little brat, yeah?” he croaks, displaying a yellowing set of teeth. He reaches for Grigory, and I take my finger off the trigger.

“Don’t touch him.”

Ignoring me, he scoops my son up into his arms, almost upending the crate in the same move. I start to lunge forward.

“Stop!” he snarls. “Or I might accidentally drop the little fucker on his head.”

“Don’t do this,” I beg with my heart in my throat.

“That’s what I told my mudak of a brother when he was slicing my chest open!”

I can barely process what he’s saying. My eyes are fastened on the bundle in his arms. Grigory gives a little gurgle as though he’s trying to say hello.

“Shut up when I’m talking!” Viktor hisses at the baby.

I flinch. It’s not just anger I can see on Viktor’s face. It’s something else entirely—something that borders on madness.

“Please, Viktor… don’t hurt my baby.”

He smiles with his teeth, though his eyes are empty of all emotion. “You’re the one with the gun.”

“I’ll put it down.”

But I don’t move. There are options in front of me, but they’re all bad.

“What are you waiting for?” he challenges.

I don’t even try to negotiate. I set the gun down on the floor in front of me and kick it away. It spins into the corner of the shed, taking shelter in the shadows.

“There.” I lift both hands in the air and show him my empty palms. “I’m unarmed. Now, please, put the baby down.”

He runs his tongue over his bottom lip. “You know what? I will put the baby down. That’ll leave my hands free for you.”

I don’t even register the threat. All I feel is relief as he turns and puts Grigory back in the crate. Finally, I can breathe.

Then Viktor steps in front of the crib, blocking Grigory from view as he approaches me, his lips curling with contempt. “My brother thinks he’s won, but I’ll get the last laugh. I always do.”

He grabs me by the neck and walks me into the wall. Air whooshes out of me as my back hits the solid wood and his knee presses hard between my legs.

“You think this is winning?” I rasp, determined to keep him talking. “Forcing yourself on a defenseless woman?”

“No woman is defenseless,” he growls scornfully. “Not you, not my useless dead wife, not?—”

“She’s not dead,” I interrupt. “Mila’s far from dead. She’s safe at home, in Leonty’s arms.”

The distraction works. Viktor’s eyes swell, the veins in them popping red.

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