Page 116 of Trust

I’m only determined.

I get the gun out of the glove compartment too, and I make sure it’s loaded before I holster it.

I will kill Adam if he lays a finger on Micah.

We finally pull into a neighborhood of small houses, none of them built less than fifty years ago. I barely even wait for Boris to bring the car to a stop before I leap out and rush to the door.

It’s locked, and I curse before pulling out my keyring. After we’d picked up Micah’s things, I’d made a copy of the key to the house, just in case.

I’d known in my gut that I would need to get back in here.

It takes me two tries to get the key into the hole, but I finally manage and turn the lock before shoving the door open.

“Mishka!” I shout as I step inside. “Mishka, I am here.”

Nothing.

I race deeper into the house, remembering where the main bedroom was and heading in that direction.

That door is wide open.

This close, I can hear Micah sobbing, a sound that sets me off at the most basic level as I barrel into the room. I get a glimpse of the belt in Adam’s hand, even as he spins around to face me.

His expression is a mask of murderous rage.

He’s also holding a gun.

I duck behind the wall just as Adam shoots. Micah cries out, and for a second, my heart stops.

Did he shoot Micah?

“Ilya, Ilya…” Micah sobs. “Adam, please, please don’t shoot him.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Adam shouts. “He broke into my home. He’s trying to steal from me! It’s my fucking right to gun him down like the dog he is!”

I’d laugh at how pathetic he sounds, but this isn’t a laughing situation.

I stare at the wall in front of me. I need to lure Adam closer, away from Micah.

“You think I’m a dog?” I call out. “To me, you are a dog. You need petting and reassurance. You are nothing without somebody to prop you up. No, the dog is you. Sad, pathetic.Weak.”

Adam snarls loudly.

He isn’t in control of himself anymore. That’s a good thing.

I’ve worked hard to make sure I don’t lose control like my old man. I’m not going to act stupid because my ego is bruised.

It would make me careless, like it’s making Adam careless.

I hear Adam stomp closer. As soon as I think he’s in range, I shoot—not from the doorway, but through the plaster of the wall.

I make sure to angle it downward so there’s no risk of my bullets going anywhere near Micah.

Three shots, and on the third one, Adam cries out.

“What the fuck!”

I hear him go down, and before he can collect himself, I dash into the bedroom. Adam is kneeling close to the doorway, one hand on his right leg. He looks up, and I immediately kick him in the face.