Page 33 of Her Darkest Possession

Killian's eyebrows rise slightly. He sets his whiskey down with deliberate care.

"A businessman?" He nods slowly. "And yet, you have ten armed men right outside my establishment." He gestures vaguely toward the doors. "That doesn't sound like negotiations to me."

"Call them insurance. I'm here to get family back." I glance meaningfully at Amara, whose eyes are fixed on me with desperate hope.

Killian follows my gaze, then looks over at Grisha with an unreadable expression before turning back to me.

"Family?" He taps his fingers against the armrest. "I was under the impression that Grisha here was family. After all, weren't the Volkovs and Baryshevs agreeing to a marriage between you and Lola? That's what I heard."

He's fucking with me, and we both know it.

This whole city knows I didn't marry Lola.

"Cut the shit," I say flatly. "We all know I didn't marry Lola."

Grisha lurches forward, yanking poor Amara along with him like a ragdoll. "You fucking liar!" His face is flushed. "My sister has the ring. I can prove it with a single phone call."

I turn to Grisha, giving him the same look I'd give to something unpleasant I found on the bottom of my shoe.

"Shut the fuck up, Grisha. The adults are talking."

Grisha's face contorts with rage. Before I can react, he yanks the leash so hard that Amara goes tumbling to the ground with a cry of pain.

My hand balls into a fist instantly, and I notice Killian's eyes flick to it, registering my reaction.

Before either of us can make a motion, Grisha slams a single knee into Amara's back, pressing it brutally as he forces her face down on the ground. She cries out in response.

That's when Grisha pulls out a gun, and presses the barrel against the back of Amara's head.

"You want to fucking play, Tolya?" Grisha's lips curl into a feral smile, eyes wild with power. "One wrong move and I'll put a bullet in this cunt's head."

"Let her go, Grisha," I growl. "Or I'll fucking kill you."

Grisha just laughs. His knee digs deeper into Amara's back. He starts winding up the leash and gives it a yank so that her head jerks up. She cries out again, and tears begin streaming down her face, leaving thick black lines of mascara smearing across the garish makeup she's forced to wear.

"Not before I kill her first," he spits. "So why don't you just stand the fuck up, turn yourself around, and get the fuck out of here while Killian and I talk business."

From the corner of my eyes, I catch Killian's jaw clenching at Grisha's obvious disregard for protocol and decorum. The amusement that Killian had is now replaced annoyance, and that annoyance is quickly giving way to very real rage.

Grisha, that idiot, just keeps looking around at me, at Roma, and even at Vassily. But none of us reacts. We stay seated and continue staring at him.

"You think I'm fucking around?" He roars.

Is this idiot really interpreting our silence and stillness as disbelief?

"Grisha…" Killian growls.

BANG!

The sound echoes through the club, followed immediately by screams. Patrons dive under tables, dancers scramble off stages, and the music cuts abruptly.

Amara shrieks.

Even Killian grimaces at the sound of the gunshot.

Grisha holds the gun up in the air, its barrel still smoking, as he looks at me with a wild, almost animalistic look in his eyes. Then, he presses the hot barrel back against Amara's head.

"The next one is going in her pretty little head."