Page 72 of Twisted Union

After Gemma goes through the scan and Thompson has looked over the images, he tells me Gemma will be just fine.

I sag in relief. “She will be?”

“Yes, Viktor. She will be. Nothing is wrong inside her brain. I’ll stitch up her cut, and she’ll wake soon, and all will be well.”

Thompson’s words hit me. All won’t be well. There’s a lot I need to figure out when it comes to Gemma so that nothing like this happens again to her.

I take Gemma home after Thompson finishes with her. Then I watch her while she sleeps. She’s fine—today.

But what if Franco had succeeded in landing a bullet in her? She could be dead right now, and it’s all because I decided to take her for myself. My plan to use her as a bargaining chip clearly did not work. Neither Franco nor Marco is interested in making a deal with me, and I don’t think that will ever change. So, that leads to only one question: What am I going to do with Gemma?

The longer she stays with me, the more she’s at risk for getting seriously hurt. While it’s been fun and games, today was a wake-up call. I don’t want Gemma to die because of me. I love her.

And that’s why I need to let her go.

Shit. That’s the last thing I want.

But … if I let her go back home to her family, she’ll be safe from the destruction I bring with me everywhere I go. Franco and Marco will still try to come after me. Well, Franco, for sure, since that man is a poor loser. Marco might return to LA and leave me alone. He won’t want to put his wife at risk by pursuing me. Either way, though, if they come after me, Gemma won’t be in the crosshairs. She’ll be safe, and she’ll be alive.

For the first time in years, I have the strong urge to talk to my parents and ask them for advice. But they’re gone now.

My memory hits me hard.

* * *

I walkedtoward my parents with the knife in my hands …

… and then stopped.

The absolute look of fear on their faces drew me up short. I couldn’t kill them. Sure, they tossed me into a fucking mental institution and threw away the key. But they were still my parents. And Icould notkill them, even if every fiber in my being wanted to.

I dropped the knife.

My mom let out a sob of relief while Dad slowly approached me. “Viktor? Let’s talk things through.”

“No. I’m going to go. I’m not going back to that place.”

“And you don’t have to.”

I walked past my parents, but Mom called after me, running to my side. “Viktor, let us at least take you somewhere safe. Please?”

“How do I know you won’t try to take me back to that fucking place?” Memories of being tied down and forced to swallow pills hit me.

Mom frantically shook her head. “We won’t. I just can’t let my son out there into the world, knowing he’s not being taken care of. Let us take you somewhere. Please.”

I looked between her and Dad. She was begging me with her eyes while Dad refused to look at me. “Where?” I finally asked.

Mom let out a happy cry. “There’s a family friend you could stay with. His name is Smirnoff. He’ll help you.”

Dad whipped around to stare at her. “Should we be taking him to Smirnoff? You know he’s into … shady business.”

“Maybe he can help Viktor.” She turned to me. “What do you say?”

“Who’s Smirnoff?” My parents didn’t tell me at the time, but I discovered later that he ran the Russian mob, which I would inherit after he died.

“Just let us take you to him. He’s the only one who can help you.”

After a moment, I agreed. I got into the car with my parents, and they drove me across town. I’ll always remember that day. Mom turned back around to give me a sad smile while Dad met my eyes in the rearview mirror.

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