Page 83 of In Her Blood
“Take his knife,” Dante said.
The man still holding Grisha’s arm ripped the knife free with only mild difficulty.
Grisha attempted to move and Romeo wiggled the gun still against his temple. “Do that again and I lose my temper, fuckstick.”
“And he does have a short temper,” Mikey called from somewhere just out of Evelina’s line of sight. He sounded like he had moved behind Otto.
Grisha cut his eyes to the side, then forward, before settling back into a glare. “What do you bastards gain from this? This isn’t your fight. Or has that whorepromised—”
Dante’s arm shot out, his fingers curling around Grisha’s throat and silencing the surely vulgar words about to spew from it. “Cousin,” he called without turning his head, “tell me which matters more to you. The outcome or the process?”
Evelina startled at the unexpected address. She found herself taking in the slowly draining color from Grisha’s face, the rustle of fabric as the men around them shifted their weight, and the familiar steadiness of Otto’s arms banded around her. She could give the answer that came to her initially—probably the truest one—and everything would be handled. Ended.
That solution wasn’twrong. It just wasn’t right.
She pushed lightly at Otto’s arms and took a step forward, ignoring the discomfort that followed when the movement of air at her back brushed against her new wound. It probably did need covering, but she was confident it wasn’t too bad. “Both,” she said.
A smile spread across Romeo’s face.
Dante hummed. “Excellent.” He finally glanced over his shoulder, past her. “You should be the one to hold him steady.”
Otto had been fond of his job for a long time. Not because he enjoyed being shot at, or the gut-wrenching agony of knowing Lina had gotten herself into danger again. Most days, it wassimply because he got to spend his time beside her and no one questioned him. He’d stopped honestly giving a shit about the money a few years back, but that wasn’t something he could have said to his previous employer.
At the moment, his employment status was murky. Lina’d been a little understandably distracted with shit and never had gotten around to addressing the business side of things after only barely salvaging her inheritance itself. He didn’t care. He wasn’t going anywhere.
And at the moment, as he kicked Grisha’s knees out and forced the bastard into a submissive position, Otto was extremely fond of his job. Because no one gave a shit when something snapped in Grisha’s arm as he twisted both arms back at uncomfortable angles. No one gave a shit when he dug a finger into the crudely bandaged bullet hole near Grisha’s wrist and blood started dripping to the floor. No one even gave a fuck that he was standing on one of Grisha’s ankles—just in case the fucker thought to try anything, of course.
In front of them, as Grisha’s chest heaved, Lina stepped closer until she stood beside her eldest cousin.
Dante looked every bit the picture of a lethal storm right before the sky opened up.
Romeo moved into view, gun at his side.
Further behind Lina, Mikey helped Otto’s father to his feet.
Her newfound family was something else. They felt like a force of fucking nature. But Otto was grateful for that, because after all the shit that had fallen on Lina in recent weeks, it was exactly the uplift she’d needed.
“Grisha,” Lina said, speaking his name like a curse. “I don’t know the full extent of the crap you did, and I no longer care. I’m not going to ask you any questions. I just want you to know one thing before you die.” She took a deep breath as anger and strength coalesced over her features. “You failed. Not only will I walk out of here alive, but that baby you tricked Pyotr’s spy into conceiving with you?” Her lips curled, but her voice held steady.
Otto was so fucking proud of her for that.
Fire practically snapped from her eyes as she glared down at Grisha. “That baby will never know you, or any Morozov.”
Grisha jerked in Otto’s hold, so Otto adjusted his grip to reach around and wrap a hand around Grisha’s throat. Not tight enough to restrict his speech—yet—but enough to hold him in place.
“And here’s the thing,” Lina continued, “I’m not really one for long, drawn-out torture. I don’t have anything I want tolearnfrom you. I just want you to suffer for all the years of deceit and the depth of your betrayal, because while I won’t really mourn Pyotr, I respect that what you did to him was fucked up. And as his last living relative, I guess it’s my job to do something about that. Which also sort of pisses me off.” She scrunched up her nose. “No, I take that back. It way pisses me off.”
Grisha scoffed. “Is this my torture? Listening to you prattle?”
Lina moved closer and dropped into a crouch, folding her arms over her lap. “Partly, yes. But also”— she leaned back and looked around— “does anyone have a knife they can lend me?”
Oneof the men who’d flown in from out of state pulled a wicked blade from a sheath at his thigh and passed it over.
Otto pretended he didn’t have a small panic attack at the sight of Lina handling a knife with a blade the length her entire damn hand.
Lina looked it over briefly, though Otto knew she had no skill set for examining weaponry, then curled her fingers securely around the grip. She smiled mocking at Grisha. “I’ve never actually done this myself before, so this next part might be really sloppy. I’d apologize, but … well, that’d be a lie. I hope it’s the worst pain you ever experience, until the next thing we do to you.”
Otto felt Grisha tense. Practically felt the words building in Grisha’s body.
