“Have you told the men?” she said.
“Not yet. But I will now.”
“You didn’t run? Not even knowing the consequence for raising your hand against your leader?”
“You’re the second person to ask me that question today,” I said.
“And what was your answer to the first?” she asked.
“I don’t run,” I said simply.
“Constantins never do,” she said, and then she collapsed against her chair, silent now as her thin body was racked by sobs.
Those sobs ended as quickly as they had begun, and after a breath, I wouldn’t have known she had cried unless I’d seen it myself.
What I did know, what I could see, was the rage that hummed around her like a tangible thing. She looked at me, eyes hard, glittering with the promise of retribution.
She stood and walked out of the room, taking any errant hope of survival I still had with her.
Anton
I stood in front of the assembled men, watching them watch me. I had not contemplated my own death in a very long time, had accepted the eventuality of it, the expected gruesomeness, but now, I felt nothing.
Lily was safe, and that was all that mattered.
“Christoph is dead,” I said. And then, after a beat, I added, “Both of them.”
Silence reigned as I watched confusion and then realization cross the men’s faces.
“Are we at war?” Sandu asked.
The others nodded, faces set with readiness and desire to get revenge for their leader.
“If you’re at war, then it’s with me. Because I killed him,” I said.
In an instant, the tension in the room spiked, the men seeming to process the statement as a group.
“Anton, are you saying you killed Christoph Junior?” Sandu asked, the only one willing to speak what I knew all of the others were thinking.
I focused on him as he watched me through hooded eyes, his stance relaxed at the moment, though I knew that could change in the blink of an eye. There was no need, though. I had my fill of killing today.
Long seconds passed as he and the other men watched me, their eyes glittering with the hope that I would deny it, avoid them having to confront what my having done so would mean. They would have believed me, too. Even with Adela hovering outside, waiting to make sure I got what she no doubt saw as my just desserts. If I just said the word, they would have accepted it.
I wouldn’t lie.
I’d killed, done more unspeakable things than I could recall. But I would never be a liar.
“I did,” I said.
A low murmur of voices filled the room, and I caught Sandu’s gaze, gave him a slight nod.
“Then you know what must happen?” he said.
I nodded again. “I do.”
Twenty-Two
Anton
The men looked from one to the other, each seeming to search for some clue, some answer. But there was no one left to give them. So, as I had always done, I stepped up to provide all that I could.
“We have our rules; we have our honor. I violated both. There can be only one response.”
I saw a few nods, watched Sandu in particular as he seemed to understand most what needed to be done. I was confused by my reaction.
There was some fear, the anticipation of my impending demise and the unknown that would come after it making my heart beat a little harder. But more than that, there was pride, a sense of accomplishment at having been a part of all this, of having earned these men’s respect.
“Sandu, you do it,” I said.
He recoiled, literally took a step back and looked at me as if I were insane, a point I was in no position to argue.
“I…” he started and then trailed off, his face tight with worry.
“Come, let’s talk privately,” I said.
I led him into Christoph’s office, surprised to see Adela there.
“Mrs. Constantin, would you excuse us?” Sandu asked, still looking more than a little terrified.
“I will not. I want to see that what’s necessary is done,” she said.
“You should—”
“It’s fine. She can stay,” I interjected.
Then I turned to him. “They are looking to you now, so you know it must be done. And you’ll do it,” I said, not allowing any hint of resistance or worry to show in my voice. This was already going to be difficult for him.
But I could see the resistance in Sandu’s eyes as he warred with the realization that there was no other choice.
“Here?” he asked, looking shocked at the very prospect. And with good reason. Christoph Senior hadn’t been above conducting business here, but never any violence, not in his home, he’d always said.
Adela hadn’t allowed it. But I looked at her now, saw the gleam of satisfaction that lit her gaze. Today seemed to be an exception to her previous rules.