Page 123 of Crimson Tears

“Child trafficking,” he says without missing a beat.

Well, shite on toast. Our bonding was going so well until he had to bring that up. Suddenly, I don’t feel so hungry. I push my bowl back and relax into the cushions, watching the game mindlessly.

“Nessa said something happened to you as a kid and that’s why you are struggling with this so much.”

I nod, crossing my arms but unable to look at him.

“All of us are struggling. I just happen to know what it’s like to be a kid who was taken from his bed in the middle of the night and locked in a metal box with no idea of what the future held.”

He stops eating too, setting his spoon down to turn my way.

“How did you get out?”

“For someone who doesn’t like it when people ask things of him, you sure do ask some personal shite.”

I huff while keeping my arms over my chest because yes, I am bitter. He talks a big game about all of these terrible things he has done, but he won’t tell me any of them.

Assassins are supposed to trade secrets. It’s part of the code, I’m sure. And he breaks it all the time by keeping his wrinkled lips shut.

Watch out people, I bet he is really James Bond or something. Although, that’s British. Well, whatever the Russian equivalent is then.

Boris watches me for a second before nodding. “Alright, a truth for a truth then.”

I squint at him. “I can ask anything I want and you’ll answer?”

He sticks out his hand. “Deal.”

I shake it, getting excited. I, of all people, get to know one of his deepest, darkest secrets.

“Nessa and her father rescued the kids, although I don’t think they ever would have tried if they hadn't taken one of his daughters. She was at a sleepover that night and it might have been an accident that she was taken. Anyway, Nessa saved me from being burnt to death when the truck caught fire.”

That may have been a bit much, but what can I say? I’m excited. I’ve been dying to ask Boris about this, but I knew he would never answer, not until now.

“Alright then, your turn I suppose.”

He scratches his short, trimmed beard as I pretend to think.

“Did you have anything to do with the death of Red, Donovan’s right hand man for fifteen years?”

Boris’ eyes go wide.That’s right, I got him.

When Nessa had been on the island for about ten months, I was watching some of Donovan’s people.Call me obsessed or whatever. I mean, I am, but we can keep that on the down low.

One night, Red and Donovan got into an argument about Nessa not being ready to take over the Reapers after she got back. Red may or may not have insinuated that he should be the one to take the reins for a bit. He was always whispering in Donovan’s ear about Nessa; I hated him. You could see his disdain for her from a mile away.

He used his position to his advantage and came up with new ideas of how to test Nessa. I loathed how weak Donovan was to not see what Red was doing. Quite a few times, I almost killed Red myself. Except someone else beat me to it.

“How did you know?” Boris questions, but I shake my head.

“It’s my turn right now, Old Man. Why did you kill him?”

I feel giddy as I witness Boris clenching and unclenching his jaw.One of the telltale signs Alexi has a bad hand, by the way. Beating him at poker was as satisfying as jumping into the pool on a hot day.But how Boris does it is different, almost like he’s trying to keep himself at bay.

He’s frustrated, but I want him to feel how I felt when I went to kill that bastard only to find he was already dead.

“He hurt her,” Boris’ fist grips the glass so hard I am concerned it might break. “I had it on good authority that he wanted to do worse. It was also he who asked your former boss to take Nessa out when she almost died in that tower. She does not know that though.”

I put my head in my hands. “So you had him killed.”

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