Page 2 of Kings of Cruelty

I take the knife, still holding Marino’s throat with one hand. It’s not as large a knife as I would have wanted, but it’ll do the job.

I jab it between Marino’s ribs, and there’s no gurgling death gasp. He was already dead. The blood spills out over me, and I finally drop the body.

Silvano has made his way back to Victor Corvi. Nikolai and Kyran look like they want to argue, and Yura…

Yura is still standing where he’d been, unmoving, his knuckles white around the gun.

“Yura! Pull yourself together!” I shout in Russian. “We’re going to save her, and all of Marino’s men are dead.”

Yura snaps to attention and looks at me, eyes wide. “I… Yes. Sierra. Fuck! Sierra.” His voice wavers and he takes a halting step toward her, then stops.

I can’t figure out what’s wrong with him until Nikolai glances up. “Great fucking aim, Yuri.”

Kyran’s head snaps up, and he stares at Yura. He connects the dots before I do, and he’s up on his feet, launching himself at Yura without regard for the gun in his hands. “You goddamnmotherfucking piece of shit!” he screams. “I will fucking kill you!”

Someone I don’t recognize, a trim man in an expensive suit, and Angelo both react, grabbing Kyran and trying to haul him off of Yura.

Kyran gets several punches in before they can stop him.

Yura just stands there, taking it, the gun slipping from his hand and falling to the ground with a thud.

I almost tell them to let Kyran keep pummeling Yura, because Yura fucking deserves that and more forshooting Sierra.

“How?” I ask in Russian, clenching my fists. “How the fuck did you shoot Sierra?”

“She… she moved,” Yura answers quietly in Russian. “I was aiming for…” He glances at Kyran Winters, then lowers his gaze again.

“I don’t give a fuck who you were aiming for!” Nikolai snarls, looking up at Yura, and I see the others’ confusion when we don’t switch to English.

I don’t particularly care.

Kyran is slower than I am this time, but I see it when Silvano realizes what Yura had been trying to do.

I storm over to Yura and grab him by the neck, squeezing him. He gasps and lets out a small pained sound, but he doesn’t fight me.

No one tries to stop me. No one so much as utters a word.

“You deserve as much as Marino,” I growl.

Yura nods and stretches out his neck.

If he were arguing with me, if he were fighting back or pretending this wasn’t his fault, it would be easier.

But after a few seconds, I make a frustrated noise and let go of him, shoving him away. He stumbles to the ground and stays there.

I turn to the others in the room.

“Now somebody explain what the fuck is going on,” I say in English.

Nikolai has gone back to staring at Sierra, but he says flatly, “Sierra said Don Marino was trying to poison everyone. They locked us in the other room.” He lets out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, guess it’s a good thing we listened to her, right?”

Angelo goes to the door and peers out. “We got a bunch of the guards on our way here. It’s probably safe to leave, but…” He shakes his head. “Fuck. What a fucking mess. And I didn’t even start it this time.”

“I think we can dispense with the jokes right now,” Silvano Cresci says mildly. He goes to pick up one of the discarded liquor glasses. “I didn’t think Don Marino was the kind to resort to poison, but I suppose I don’t—didn’t—know him that well.”

They’re all talking, but I’m more concerned about Sierra than mafia politics. I go to crouch down next to her and gently push some of her hair back from her face. The makeup is smeared, and the beautiful gown and its feathery accents are drenched in blood, but I can see she’s still breathing.

I lean down to brush my lips against her forehead.

---