Page 87 of Captive Prize

“Why do you care?”

“Because right now there are very few things that Artem and Gregor agree on. One of those things happens to be what to do with Zoya. They both want her dead. The family wants her dead and you can’t blame them.”

“Since when do we gun down women?” I asked. “Are kids next on the list? If some little kid shoves one of Gregor’s kids, are we going to mount a mission to take out the tyke?”

The tension in the room rose as Pavel hobbled toward me, the cast and crutches forcing him to move much slower.

I took advantage of the time by grabbing a few more knives and tucking them into the various sheaths on my tactical vest and in my pants.

“First of all, our children, sons and daughters, will know how to handle a playground bully themselves. Chances are good they’re going to be running underground candy smuggling rings by the second grade. At least I’ll make sure my kid is.”

I loved Pavel for that.

The tension was thick. Every time it got like this, he would crack a joke to make me feel like family again.

Then it was back to the real shit.

“This woman didn’t just shove me,” he said. “She caused a car accident that could have killed my pregnant wife. Then sheabducted me while her men tortured me. You were there. You know what happened.”

“That changes nothing,” I argued, turning to face him.

“It changes everything. She’s not some innocent little girl. She did this. Her actions signed her own death warrant. Maybe if my wife wasn’t pregnant, or if it hadn’t happened so close to the compound, we’d be having a different conversation.”

I scoffed.

“You’re right.” He nodded. “It would be the same conversation. Because she did this. When her husband died, she had her father committed instead of getting remarried. There is no world where she gets a happily ever after. This is only the consequence of her own actions.”

I slammed the gun safe closed and turned to look Pavel directly in the eye.

“You don’t know her.”

“And you do?” he fired back. “You were the one who went back into the building to grab her and hold her hostage. You spent, what? One afternoon with her and you decided that’s it. You let her brainwash you. Or are you just pussy whipped?”

“Brainwashed? Pussy whipped?” I laughed. “Tell me cousin, when you abducted your wife from her second job after killing a person in front of her, how long did it take you to realize that you didn’t want her dead?”

“It’s not the same,” he said, gritting his teeth.

“Isn’t it? She watched you kill a man. Not in self-defense. Straight up murder. She was snooping and witnessed you execute our enemy. Then she blew you and stole your gun. Tell me, what did the family think we should have done with her?”

“It’s not the?—”

“Artem’s wife ran away and accidentally showed our enemies the weakness in the compound. You were infiltrated and had tofight a war on our home turf. What did the family want done with her?”

“It’s not the–”

“Exactly how many times has Damien’s wife stabbed or shot him?”

“Recently?” Pavel asked and I couldn’t help my snort of amusement.

“There is one little piece you keep missing, cousin,” he said, putting his hand on my shoulder, using my body to steady his as he lowered himself onto a bench.

“And what’s that?”

“We married those women. Yeah, okay, some questionable things happened before we married them, but we just knew that they were the ones for us. So we kept them. And at no point did they actively try to kill us—well, except for Damien’s wife.”

“He probably had it coming,” I said, letting out a deep sigh.

“Probably,” Pavel agreed. “Are you planning on marrying this girl? Making her one of us?”

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