Page 126 of Sadistic

With each word, my sister's face goes through a journey—shock, disgust, reluctant understanding.

"So we're using mental illness as a weapon now?" Dalla sinks into a chair. "That's where we are?"

"Would you prefer he show up at the wedding?" Ingrid challenges.

"I'd prefer he get help without becoming a pawn in some fucking chess game." Dalla looks at me. "You can't be okay with this."

"I'm not okay with any of this," I admit. "I'm not okay with Bembe threatening our family. I'm not okay with Njal being sick and untreated. I'm not okay with getting married tomorrow while all this is happening."

"Then don't," Dalla says simply. "Call it off. Run. We'll figure something out."

"And leave everyone to deal with the consequences? The cartel war that follows? More dead prospects?" I shake my head. "I can't."

"So you'll let Ingrid do this instead. Use someone you cared about as a weapon."

"I'm sitting right here," Ingrid reminds us. "And I'm not doing this for fun. I'm trying to keep everyone alive."

"By manipulating a sick man."

"By redirecting someone who's already fixated on violence." Ingrid stands. "You think I want this? You think I'm happy about using someone I..." She stops, collects herself. "Someone Icare about? But between this and watching him die tomorrow, I choose this."

The kitchen goes quiet except for the hum of the ancient refrigerator.

Somewhere in the building, a door closes.

Normal sounds that feel surreal given our conversation.

My phone buzzes.

A text from Elfe:

Something's happening downtown. Cops everywhere. News saying possible gang altercation.

My blood runs cold. "It's already started."

Ingrid checks her phone, face paling. "That's not... I haven't even left yet."

Another text from Elfe:

Shots fired near the old warehouse district. Isn't that where some of Bembe's guys hang out?

"Njal," I breathe. "He didn't wait."

Ingrid is already moving. "I have to go. Maybe I can still?—"

"Still what?" Dalla demands. "He's already there. It's already happening."

"I can make sure he survives it," Ingrid says grimly. "That's something."

She's gone before we can argue, the back door slamming behind her.

Dalla and I sit in the sudden silence, processing what's happening.

"This is so fucked up," my sister says finally.

"Yeah."

"Tomorrow you marry into this. Officially. Forever."