Page 125 of Immaculate Deception (Romanoff Bratva)

“The old bitch is sleeping!” Tommy yells from the door. “Leave her alone.”

June snaps her head around to him, eyes narrowed. “I know what my grandmother sleeping looks like. She’s not sleeping; she’s sick. She might die.”

Tommy winds his finger in the air and mumbles, “The circle of life.” He punctuates the joke with a morbid laugh.

“This isn’t the circle of anything!” I snap. “You did this! If anything happens to her, it will be your fault. It will be murder.”

That seems to catch Tommy’s attention. He sits up, forehead wrinkled as he surveys the scene.

His eyes are bloodshot. One tiny ember could catch his breath on fire. When he stands up, his legs are wobbly and off-balanced. He has to press his palm to the wall to keep himself standing.

“I didn’t murder anyone,” he mumbles. “This isn’t my fault.”

“How is it not your fault?” I press. “You put a sick woman through unbelievable stress. Is it any wonder she had a reaction?”

Tommy glares at me, but the ferocity of it is lost in a boozy burp. “She’ll be fine.”

Ernestine continues her shallow, frantic breathing for a few more seconds. Then the room goes eerily quiet.

We all stop and look at Ernestine.

She isn’t breathing at all anymore.

June gasps and begins shaking her grandma. I don’t know what to do.

Poor Ernestine.

Poor June.

So much heartbreak in their lives. When will it end?

Tommy stumbles over to the table and shoves June aside. The girl falls on the floor with a pained yelp. He shakes Ernestine hard, hard enough she nearly falls out of her chair.

June yells at for him to stop. “Daddy! Leave her alone!”

This situation is going from bad to worse.

“You killed her!” June screams when one of Ernestine’s arms flops uselessly by her side. “You did this!”

Tommy whirls around, his cheeks splotchy, eyes glassy. “Shut up, you little bitch. I didn’t do anything. The woman was on her last leg. It’s a miracle she made it this long.”

June tries to lunge at Tommy, but I hold her back. The poor girl is heartbroken. I can’t let her put herself in danger over this. She’s just a child.

“Your grandma would want you to be safe,” I murmur to her, smoothing down her red hair. It’s hard not to remember the last night of Rose’s life, when I held her and brushed my fingers through her hair, trying to calm her down.

When will this family stop suffering so much sorrow because of me?

“Listen to her, June Bug,” Tommy slurs. “I’ll take care of you when this is all over.”

“I’d rather die.” June glares at him. I know she means it.

Tommy steps towards her, hand raised like he’s going to hit her, but before he gets a chance, a figure rises up behind him.

Ernestine.

Her eyes are now wide and alert, her hands aren’t trembling the way they were before, and she has a ceramic vase from the center of the table lifted over her head.

Oh my God.

---