Page 126 of Wicked Refusal

Desya makes a pensive noise. “Now, why would I do that?”

Because if you don’t, I’ll murder you here and now. I don’t care if I have to eat a bullet to do it—you’ll go back into those waters and stay there.

I force those words back in my throat and say, “Because I’m offering you what you really want. One last game with me, all cards on the table. Winner takes it all.”

“I hate to say, I’m intrigued.” His voice laces with suspicion. “What’s rule number two?”

“No more gunning for my men.”

“That’s a lot to ask.”

“It’s what it takes.”

He smirks like he’s just thought up something hilarious. “Tell you what. I’ll agree tooneof your rules. You can save your men, or you can save your girl. Your pick.”

Fury flares inside me.Choose.That’s his play, then: torturing me. Forcing me to pick between one side of my life and the other. My Bratva or my woman.

I think of Slavik, dead before he could notice. Of Rurik, whose last words I still carry with me. Of Kazimir, twice wounded, still breathing. Of Tikhon, grazed by sheer bad luck. Of Nikita, so haunted she can’t see straight anymore, not even through her rifle sight.

Of Zhenya.

I see her in that bed, hooked to all sorts of machinery. I see her bleeding on the floor, gasping for breath, two bullets inside her. I see her waking up and realizing she’ll never walk again.

But in the end, it’s not any of them I’m seeing.

It’s Mia.

And I know, just like that, that it’s no choice at all.

“Rule number one.” I set my jaw so hard it might snap. “That’s my choice.”

Silence falls between us.

“Interesting,” Desya says eventually. “That’s not the choice you would have made twenty years ago.”

“It’s always been my choice. You just never knew me.”

For a second, his gun bites hard into my ribs. I’m almost convinced he’ll throw his little game to the wind and shoot me.

Do it.My hand is already on my own weapon.Give me an opening. I’ll blow your skull with it.

Even if it costs me my fucking life.

“So be it.” He sounds equal parts angry and wounded. “One last game. I’ll be waiting for your invitation.”

Then the pressure’s gone.

I stand there for what feels like hours. While Desya’s footsteps fade in the dark, my eyes fix on the churning river. Dark, deadly waters.

But not deadly enough.

I could have tried to ambush him here. Maybe, if I’d have brought my men, made a stand… But no. I know Desya. He isn’t the type to get caught by something like this. No matter how careful we were, he would have noticed.

And then I’d have lost my chance to save them.

But now, I have his word. It might not be worth much, but it’ll hold. At least until our next game.

Which is why I have to make it our final game.