Page 69 of Midnight Wedding

Watching her is everything. Staring at her every movement. At the way she wriggles her nose. At her twitchy little movements, at her snorts and coughs. Even the way she sneezes three times in a row. An excessive amount, but perfect on her. I love watching her witchy red hair and her cute little mouth and that sexy fucking body of hers.

I could stare at her all day. I would, if I weren’t fighting a war.

She has no idea how much I watch her.

But unfortunately, I have to get some work done.

“That’s our boy,” Tigran says suddenly, sitting up straight. Across the street, a slouchy young man strides into the corner store and disappears. “Fuck, he’s really showing up.”

“Told you he’s got a fucking problem.” I shove my door open and step out. “Guy loves scratchers.”

“But why always get them from one place?”

“He told me a few years back. He thinks every bodega’s got at least one winner in them. He thinks if he keeps coming here, he’ll find it.”

“Cousin Vahagn’s dumb as hell.”

“Nobody said he was a genius.” I push into the store and look around. The guys behind the counter are both bored-looking young men. They ignore me. A couple of women are chatting near the soda machine, and I spot the top of Vahagn’s head bobbing in front of the big lottery dispenser. “Watch the front,” I murmur at Tigran before heading to the back.

Vahagn doesn’t even look up as I approach. He’s too busy mumbling to himself and rubbing a cheap ten-dollar card with a coin. I walk right up to him and shove the barrel of my gun against his ribs.

“Hello, Cousin.”

He freezes. His eyes go wide. “Fuck. Arsen?”

“Let’s talk.”

“What are you doing here, man?”

“Getting information.”

His ticket falls to the floor. It’s a loser. “I don’t know anything. Fuck, bro, you know I’m not even good like that.”

“You’re in the family. You chose your side. Now it’s time to play the game.” I shove the gun against him harder. “Walk.”

He’s shaking as I force him into a small side hall. It ends in a vending machine and doors to the bathrooms. They’re both locked.

“Uncle Garen doesn’t tell me shit,” Vahagn says as he glances at me. I keep the gun against his chest. “You know that, man.”

“All I want to know is where Aunt Sona’s been spending time lately.”

He groans. “Come on, man, that shit between you guys?—”

“You betrayed your family,” I snarl in his face. “You left with Aunt Sona and Uncle Garen. You could have stayed, but youchose.”

“Shit,” he whispers, whimpering, the pathetic fucking vermin. Vahagn always was pathetic. “Please.”

“Aunt Sona likes you. We both know it. She’s been doting on you since you were a fucking baby. Tell me where she’s been hanging out and you can walk away from this alive.”

“Fuck.” He looks up at the ceiling. “You’re going to kill her.”

“I tried talking. She stabbed me.”

“Bro—”

I shove the gun harder. “Last chance. Either you talk or you die. At least killing you will hurt her.”

“There’s a salon,” he says quickly. “She gets her nails done there like once a week. I go with her sometimes.”

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