Page 75 of Devil's Retribution

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The panic room was more like a panic apartment, there were paintings on the walls, music on the stereo. We emerged into an ordinary, if windowless living room. Viktor waved me back as he checked every room, corner, and closet. Then, I heard him laugh.

I hurried around the corner and saw him standing just past the doorway into the place’s single bedroom, where my uncle was standing in rumpled clothes, hair askew and eyes full of fear. He and Viktor had guns on each other.

I raised mine and pointed it at him even as he recognized who I was. “Emma?” he asked incredulously.

“Surprise,” I snapped, my heart pounding in my ears. “Bet you thought I was dead. You gave the order after all.”

“Emma, I- I have no idea what you’re talking about. What has this criminal been telling you? Have you been brainwashed?”

I let out a hollow laugh. “No, I just got shown a lot of evidence that you’ve been lying to me this whole time. That you had my parents killed. That you tried to have me and Nick killed.”

“That’s all lies! I would never—”

“Cut the bullshit, Charles,” I snapped, and his jaw dropped. “It’s not going to work anymore,” I informed him.

And just like that, his face changed. The fear didn’t leave, but the pleading, the false warmth, every trace of the man I’d thought he was, vanished.

“I can shoot one of you before the other one shoots me,” he threatened in a harder voice.

“You might. But your glasses are back on your nightstand in your bedroom.” Where did all this power come from? Where had my fear gone? All I could feel now was anger and disgust. “Odds of you actually hitting anything before we kill you aren’t good.”

He paled a few more shades. “What do you want?”

“I want to know why,” I demanded.

“Why, what?” He could barely look at either of us. His eyes kept slipping from Viktor, to me, and then away again quickly, like we were lights too bright for him to focus on.

“Why are you the kind of man who can have your own relatives killed for the sake of money, and then turn around and take in their children? Why did you trust me with so much, and then turn around and try to have me killed? I know all you really care about is money, so what was it? Why pretend you cared? Why pretend to treat us like actual family?”

He huffed out his breath through his nose, his aim at Viktor wavering. Viktor meanwhile stood like a stone, pointing his big semiautomatic unwaveringly at him.

“You were kids,” he said, as if that was self-explanatory.

“So is Nick, you damn hypocrite,” I replied. “But I guess you ran out of guilt by the time he came along.”

“Don’t you think you have the right to judge me, you little slut, you’re just as bad as your sister getting knocked up by that Russian bastard. He should have kept his mouth shut and not tried to meddle—” he snapped suddenly, reddening.

“What?” I exclaimed.

“So, that’s it,” Viktor said in a cold tone. “That’s what got Leon killed. Not long before he was murdered, he was doing a job for Igor, and he must have discovered the hush money you were sending him. Tell me how it happened, he was threatening to expose you to your niece, am I right?”

My uncle gave a bitter laugh. “He was a lovesick fool, he could have taken the money I was offering and become a rich man, but instead he spouted sanctimonious crap about honor and family. He had to die.”

“And Igor was more than happy to be your assassin again?” Viktor snarled.

“I thought I might have to get him to deal with that slut too, but luckily once she gave birth to the bastard, her own demons took care of that loose end.” Uncle Charles shrugged, he was still pointing his gun at Viktor, but I could see the tremor in his hand.

“Watch your mouth,” Viktor replied coldly. “You’ll live longer.”

But my uncle had no restraint left. “I should have had you killed too, back when you and your sister were kids. I’ll fix that mistake now—”

He didn’t have the chance to swing his aim toward me before two gunshots went off. The jolt went up my arm and I realized that one of them had come from me.

My uncle stared at us for a few moments before he dropped his pistol and his hand drifted to the widening bloodstains on his shirt. Then his knees hit the floor, the rest of the color draining from his face.

“Your mistake was making enemies you couldn’t afford,” I told him gravely.