Page 143 of Filthy Lies

Fuckingagain.

The collision of our bodies in the hallway. The electric, chemical shock of touching her after days of withdrawal. And my daughter… Sofiya reached for me,choseme, while her mother’s eyes filled with a complicated, boiling resentment.

But it wasn’t all hate. I saw the other things, too. Rowan leaned into me. It was involuntary and desperate, yes, but she fuckingleaned…before her mind caught up and reminded her of all the reasons to despise me.

I pour another whiskey. Fuck it, why not? Let it burn. Let the edges blur. The cut on my hand throbs in time with the bobbing of my throat as it all goes down to mix with the blood in my veins.

The house is silent except for the sighing clinks of ice melting in my glass. Three floors above me, Rowan sleeps in our bed—alone, untouchable, a galaxy away.

The sound of the door opening doesn’t make me turn. Only one person would dare enter without knocking at this hour.

“If you’ve come to lecture me about Rowan, save it,” I say. “I already know I’m fucked.”

Silence stretches behind me. Unusual for Arkady, who never hesitates to speak his mind, especially when it involves my personal life.

The silence stretches. Stretches. Stretches.

I pivot in my chair, whiskey glass still clutched in my damaged hand?—

And freeze.

Arkady stands six feet away, arm extended…

… with a matte black Glock pointed directly at my forehead.

His face is a stone mask, eyes flat and dead. That’s not the Arkady I know. The man who’s had my back for fifteen years would never look at me like that.

“I’m sorry, Vin.” His voice doesn’t waver. The gun doesn’t, either. “They have my family.”

I pause and set the glass down with deliberate slowness. “Who has your family?” I ask cautiously. “The Solovyovs? The FBI?”

“Your father.”

I lean back in my chair, oddly calm in the face of annihilation. What else is there to do in the end? A man like me spends a lot of time thinking about death. In this line of business, you see it come from so many unexpected places, and you learn that your end can never be predicted.

For it to come like this, here, now… I wouldn’t say it’s fitting, but it’s enough to make me shake my head with the bitter fucking irony.

“So you’re going to put a bullet in my brain to save your sister and her kids. Fair trade.”

“He said to make it clean. One shot, execution style.” Arkady’s voice cracks slightly. “He wants you gone before the FBI can turn you. Said you’d never have had the balls to wear a wire, anyway.”

“My father always did understand me.” I laugh again, bitterness flooding my mouth. “So this is it? Fifteen years by my side, and you betray me without hesitation?”

“Not without hesitation.” His hands begin to shake. The second chink in the armor. “Eight months, Vin. He’s had them for eight fucking months. Hidden away where I can’t reach them. Sending me videos, photos—” His voice wobbles once more, then breaks completely. “My niece was five the last time I saw her. She’s lost three teeth since then.”

The spark in his eyes is utter anguish. I watch it die as the moment approaches.

“Put the gun down, Arkady,” I try quietly.

“I can’t.” Tears fill his eyes, though his aim remains steady. “He’ll kill them. He promised he’d make me watch.”

“My father is many things, but a man of his word isn’t one of them.” I rise slowly from the chair, keeping my hands visible. “You pull that trigger, and your family dies anyway. You know that.”

Sweat beads on Arkady’s forehead, catching the dim light. “He swore?—”

“He’s a fucking liar,” I snarl, taking a step forward. “And you’re a fucking fool if you believe him.”

The gun jerks in his hand, a warning. “Don’t come closer.”

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