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“Yeah.” He grabs the strand from me and wraps it around his finger, giving it a slight tug. “It’s in the bottom-right drawer.”

I peek around him, biting my lip, and look at the bottom drawer. “Are you sure you want me to go through your drawers? I didn’t because I know how people like their privacy.”

He drops my hair, running his tongue over the front of his tooth. “I’ll grab it for you, but you need to hurry,nevesta. We’re short on time.”

As soon as he turns around, walking toward the marble double vanity, I slowly draw the gun from my hoodie pocket. It’s risky since there’s a mirror, but it’s now or never.

As soon as he glances down in the drawer, I raise the gun and shoot.

The gunshot is loud, and I see him attempt to reach for his gun as soon as I pull the trigger, but it’s too late. My heart nearly stops as I watch the bullet collide with his head. His head flings forward, hitting the mirror, and he slumps against the counter.

I cover my mouth, shocked that I did it.

How did he make it so easy for me?

I guess there are perks to people believing you’re weaker than them.

Dima saw me as the used.

I played that part until it was time to prove him wrong.

My eyes widen as realization hits me.

I killed someone. I’m a murderer.

Now, I need to finish my plan and finish it fast.

I counted at least three other men in the house when we arrived. Unless they’re deaf or wearing headphones, they had to hear the gunshot and will probably be up soon to investigate.

Rushing over to Dima, I check his pulse.

The move reminds me so much of when I did the same to my father in his office. I grin when I don’t feel anything.

Now, I need to figure out how to get out of here.

I tug Dima’s body down to the floor, a smear of blood following him, and search his pockets for his phone.

I tap the screen as soon as I do, finding it locked.

Shit.

Kneeling, I put the phone in front of his face.

It still doesn’t unlock.

“Dima! I heard a gunshot!” the same guy who interrupted us before yells through the bedroom door. “Is everything okay?”

Fuck!

I don’t reply, hoping no response will be good enough.

“Boss, tell me everything is okay!” He wiggles the doorknob, and I’m thankful Dima locked it earlier. “If you don’t, I’m breaking down the door!”

“Dima is in the shower,” I shout. “Everything is good!”

“Why’d I hear a gunshot then?”

My head grows dizzy. “It was an accident. He was showing me what’d happen if I tried to run and shot the ceiling.”