Page 183 of Wicked Refusal

Brad, standing in the middle of the exit, a gun to his own son’s head.

Right in front of Mia.

63

MIA

This is a nightmare.I pinch myself hard enough to draw blood.This has to be a nightmare.

But I don’t wake up.

Because it’s real.

Brad’s gun is shaking against Eli’s head. His grip isn’t firm, not in the slightest. Somehow, that terrifies me more than anything. “Let him go, Brad.”

“Not a fuckin’ chance.” His face is still bloody from where Desya socked him earlier, his clothes in complete disarray. “He came to me, you know.” His tone takes on a manic edge. “That’s gotta be a sign, right?”

I lock eyes with Eli. He looks more terrified than I’ve ever seen him, and with good reason. “It’s okay, baby,” I lie, because I have to. Because, right now, the truth would only be crueler. “Everything’s gonna be okay.”

“I’m s-sorry, Mommy,” he sobs. “I-I saw you outside my window, but then you were gone. Then Aunt Nik was coming, so I snuck into her c-car?—”

“Quiet,” Brad interrupts. “The adults are talking now.”

Something sharp hardens in me. Something cold and deadlier than any gun.

A mother’s rage.

“Don’t you dare treat him like that!” I scream. “He’s your son! How could you do this to your own son?!”

“Should you really be making demands of me?” He digs the mouth of his gun harder into Eli’s temple to make a point. “I’ve got the upper hand now, Mia. You know I do.”

“You always make the same mistake, don’t you?”

“What… mistake?”

“Getting attached.”

Our earlier conversation plays back in my mind. It fills me with dread that he’d really do this. Last time he pointed a gun at him, Eli wasn’t awake to remember. And I always thought, deep down, that he’d been bluffing, manipulating me the best way he knew how.

But what if he really means it?

“Okay.” I take a deep breath, make a calming motion with my hands. “Let’s talk, alright? Let’s just talk about this.”

“So you can trick me again?” He scoffs. “No, thanks. I’m taking the little bastard.”

“I’ll come with you,” I say. “Let him go, and I’ll come. Right here, right now.”

“Maybe you didn’t hear me.” His tone twists with fury. “I don’t want you anymore,Euphemia.Better yet, I don’t fucking need you. But you know what I do want?” He smirks, cruel and vicious. “To make the rest of your life hell.”

“Then just take me!” I’m sobbing now, begging harder than I’ve begged before. “Take me, do what you want with me, but just?—”

“No.” He shakes his head. “You don’t care about yourself. In fact, you don’t give a shit whether you live or die. Sure, I could carve that other little bastard out of you, but what would be the point? You didn’t get to know her. You didn’t spend five years caring for her. And then you’d die, and you wouldn’t even get to fucking miss her.”

“So that’s what this is about?” I croak. “Making me suffer?”

“Yes!” He yells that word loud enough for half the mobsters here to turn. “Like you mademesuffer!”

“You son of a bitch,” Yulian bellows, drawing closer. He must have ended his fight and seen what was happening across the lot. “You heartless fucking?—”