Page 110 of Lies He Told Me (Bratva Crime Syndicate 1)

It was different. Dangerous.

God, stereotypical idiot much? “Bad boys” are a thing for a reason. But why did it have to bemything? Didn’t I see what the string of terrible boyfriends did to my mom? Didn’t I see enough of the pain that comes from loving the wrong person?

I can’t pretend not to see anymore.

That’s just it, though. Gavril wasn’t like my mom’s shitty old boyfriends. He didn’t cheat on me or do drugs or steal or beat me or sponge off me. He took care of me. Treated me like a queen. He—he …

What does it matter what he did if he’s a monster?

The fact remains: I don’t know how far gone Gavril is, what kind of man he really is. Not until I talk to him.

My skin crawls. I fear that if I talk to him, if I see those dark, honest eyes of his and hear his convincing, sure words … I’m afraid I won’t be able to stay mad and stay away.

And Ihaveto stay away.

I stop in my tracks at what I see now. My gaze has picked up on familiar shapes: tents. I’ve wandered all the way to Tent City thanks to muscle memory, apparently. And not just any part of Tent City. I’d know that tent anywhere. I could ID that pink and black tutu from a mile away. Wanda must’ve come back.

God, I could cry with relief.

Being here doesn’t feel wrong or odd at all. It feels like coming home. Ironic, I know.

As I approach, Wanda doesn’t do more than glance up. Nonchalant, as if I’d just seen her yesterday. No stares or comments on how different I look. But that’s Wanda for you—I could show up as a platypus with three eyes and she’d probably only mention how it’s been a while.

But Wanda isn’t waving around her machete or squinting around how she usually does. She’s on a dirty orange and lime gingham blanket, kneeling beside a scruffy-looking man who’s groaning.

All around, Tent City is buzzing with activity—more even than when that time word got out that Teddy had landed a few hundred dollars from some well-meaning businessman and had forty ouncers of malt liquor for anyone who wanted some.

“What’s going on?” I ask Wanda, who’s leaned over and dabbing at a gaping wound on the man’s shoulder.

“Goddamn gang wars,” she mutters. “Of course, no one gives two shits about us homeless trash caught in the crossfire. In the news tomorrow, they’ll wail about some kid’s beloved teddy bear that got hit, not mention any of the likes of us who got killed or lost an arm over it.”

“Gang wars? What are they fighting for?” I ask, aware that my voice is unnecessarily shrill.

“Who ever knows?” Wanda says. She says it like it’s as unavoidable as a natural disaster: a hailstorm or a tornado.

Another moan from behind us, and I see a long-bearded man supported by two others staggering past, blood gushing from a hole in his abdomen.

I look away.

No.

This can’t be the work of … It’s only been a few hours at most, not enough time for him to …

“What can we do?” I ask Wanda.

I feel stupid saying it, and even stupider with the look she gives me. “Nothing. You haven’t gotten that by now? We’re just trash to the big players. Pawns, baby. Ain’t nothing more to it than that.”

I turn away so she won’t see the guilt clenched on my face.Trash to the big players …Well, it’s true, isn’t it? Other than an opportunity for good press, do Gavril or any of them actually care about these homeless people, any more than the government does?

You don’t know Gavril did this.

No, but I have a pretty good idea. Just how now, finally, I have a pretty good idea of what I need to do: Find Gavril. Find him and make him explain. Who he is. What he does. And see what there is to see in his face.

I scan the city horizon until I find the biggest smoke plume. It’s closer than I expected, which is good, since that’s my next stop. It’s stupid—he’s not Batman, for crying out loud.

And yet I know, deep in my gut, that finding Gavril is as simple as finding the epicenter of the chaos. Follow the violence and there he’ll be, like a fucked-up pot of gold at the end of a blood-soaked rainbow.

No more averting my eyes. No more accepting half-truths. If Gavril really is a monster, then I need to know it, see it. And deal with the consequences.

---