Page 114 of Her Darkest Possession

The friendly mask on Killian's face slips slightly.

"Your boy disrespected me in front of my men," Killian retorts, setting his drink down with a sharp click against the desk. "Honor dictated action. And I had no fucking idea Baryshev here would go so far."

I keep my face neutral, but inwardly I'm gauging every reaction. The tension between Taras and Killian is real. And if Grisha got his shit temper and hotheadedness from his father, then Taras is liable to do something stupid.

"It wasn't just him," Mother says, her voice cutting through the room like a blade. She hasn't taken her eyes off me. "It was that whore of his. She convinced him to kill your son."

Anger surges through me and my blood boils at Mother calling Indigo a whore. Before I can say anything, Taras walks over, looking down at me with cold, calculating eyes.

Then without warning, his fist connects with my face.

The blow comes harder than expected, and I taste copper as blood fills my mouth. My head snaps to the side from the force.

"What the fuck, Volkov!" Killian jumps up from behind his desk. "That wasn't part of the arrangement!"

"You said I could have him," Taras growls, eyes never leaving mine.

Killian moves forward, face reddening. "The deal was for you to take him into custody to do what you want, not make a fucking mess in my office!"

Taras turns toward him, face contorting with rage. "When you lose a son and a daughter to the same piece of shit, you don't give a fuck about making a mess."

I notice Taras's hand moving toward his back pocket. He's reaching for a knife.

Time's up.

No more fucking around.

I flex my wrists, and break the fake restraints with a quick snap. Taras's eyes widen as I lunge forward, grabbing his arm just as his fingers close around the handle of a switchblade.

Our eyes lock as I twist his wrist to force the knife from his grip.

He looks genuinely shocked, then his gaze shifts to Killian with dawning comprehension.

"You fucking two-sided cheat!" Taras roars at Killian.

Killian calmly finishes his whiskey, and sets the empty glass down with a soft clink.

"It's just good business," he says with a shrug, then gives me a nod.

I kick the knife out of Taras' reach, and my free hand pulls out the gun tucked in my waistband.

Taras tries to break free from my grip, but I slam him against the desk, knocking the wind out of him. Before he can recover, I shove the barrel of my gun between his teeth, metal scraping against enamel. His eyes bulge with fear and rage.

"I've waited a long fucking time to do this," I growl, pressing the barrel deeper until he gags.

Taras makes a desperate gurgling sound, trying to form words around the gun. His hands claw at my arm, but I'm beyond caring. I think of Indigo in that burning house, of my brother's body consumed by flames. Of my child who almost died before taking their first breath.

I pull the trigger.

The back of Taras' head explodes in a spray of blood, bone, and brain matter. The report of the gun is deafening in the small office. His body goes slack instantly, and slides down to the floor with a heavy thud.

"For fuck’s sake!" Killian shouts. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to get brains out of carpet?"

I ignore him, turning around to find my mother already bolting from the room.

I'm after her in an instant, blood pounding in my ears as I give chase.

Mother doesn't get very far. One of Killian's men grabs her arm just as she reaches gets out into the club, and stops her escape cold.