Avenge :Romanian Mob Chronicles(54)

I turned him, his back to my chest as he struggled to break my hold. That wouldn’t happen, and as I grabbed his chin with one hand and put the other at the crown of his head, I felt nothing but profound regret.

“I’m sorry it had to end this way, brother,” I said.

And then I twisted.

The snap reverberated through the room and then was gone in an instant, taking Christoph Junior’s life with it.

I released him, watched his limp body fall to the floor, his head now at a grotesque angle like his leg. I was sorry it had come to this, but deep down, I’d known it couldn’t have been avoided. Adela had tried to tell me so just minutes ago, but I’d ignored her.

Now, I’d committed one of the most grievous crimes a man could commit against his clan, one of the most grievous crimes a man could commit against his family.

All that was left was to face the consequences.





Twenty





Anton





I heard Lily stir, so I went over to her.

“Easy,” I said when she tried to sit up, and then I grasped her forearms.

When she winced, my rage at Christoph Junior spiked, but I bit it down, intent on focusing on her.

As gingerly as I could, I pressed her against me, lifted her, holding her as if she were precious and fragile. And she was. My heart outside of my body. Something I would have to learn to live without.

“Christoph…”

“Don’t worry about him,” I said firmly.

She started to shake her head, then winced.

“Easy,” I repeated.

I lifted her and carried her to her bedroom. “Stay here,” I said as I laid her down.

“Don’t worry. I’m fine,” she said, somehow managing a smile through the bruises that were popping up on her face at an alarming rate.

“I’ll be back.”

I left her then, went back to where Christoph Junior lay. I wasn’t happy, wasn’t scared, but more than anything, I was aware that I now confronted a terrible reality that was far more dangerous than Christoph Junior could have ever dreamed of.

I wouldn’t run from it. I had never run from anything. But I had to take care of Lily. I walked to where Christoph Junior lay and dug his cell phone out of his pocket.

Then I called the only person that might be able to see Lily out of this alive.











Lily

My head swam, the motion only broken up by an occasional throb of pain.

The agony at my throat was consistent, at least, every breath I drew sending a little stab through my body, and the one tiny cough I had risked bending me over in pain.

I hadn’t seen what had happened, hadn’t had the strength to turn to it. But I hadn’t needed to. I’d heard their voices, heard the scuffle, and then, finally, that low, muffled crack of Christoph Junior’s neck breaking.

How many times had I imagined it? A Constantin dead. Stabbed. Shot. Drowned. Poisoned. Dead in any number of ways, a small scourge wiped off the face of the earth. And every time, I had expected relief, elation, joy at the thought of at least one of them no longer sharing the world with Braden, with anyone.

But there had been none of that, none of the joy I had wanted, the completion I had expected.

There had only been concern.

And not for myself.

I worried about him. Wondered what this meant, how he felt.

And I regretted what I had done, what I had caused him to do. Whatever Christoph Junior was, he had been Anton’s brother, and I knew he would carry that weight, carry the knowledge that he had killed his brother because of me with him for as long as he lived.

When I heard him enter, I forced myself to look up, ignored the pain that washed over me and forced myself to look at him. He looked almost serene, something that surprised me but, given what I knew of him, should not have. And then he lifted the corner of his mouth at me, the expression giving his face a lightness that was so incongruent to the situation.

I blinked, blinked again, and then the tears came, hot and fast. “I’m sorry, Anton,” I said around the tears, my vision blurring until he was nothing but a blob.

I closed my eyes, no longer able to look at him, unable to have him look at me.

I felt rather than saw his approach, and then felt his arms around me, holding me close to him, and for a moment, I let myself believe that he could protect me, keep me safe.

“Don’t be sorry, Lily,” he whispered, big hand warm against my back.

I didn’t say anything, couldn’t, so I stayed there, let him hold me.

Time passed, though I couldn’t say how long. But when I heard the apartment door open, felt Anton pull tight, his muscles bunching, I finally broke away.

“It’s okay,” he said.

Then, after he grazed his fingers down my cheek, he stood and left. I waited, heard low voices, and after a moment, I stood. Each step was agonizing, but I ignored the pain, moved closer, not willing to let him do this alone.