So I holster my gun. As I head to the door, Alexei jumps out of the way, keeping a safe distance between us, like he’s expecting me to turn around and finish him at any moment.
I stop at the threshold. “Your brother killed mine. Some would call it poetic justice if I were to kill you right now.”
His eyes bug out with fear.
“But those people would be wrong,” I continue. “Poetic justice would be killing someone that Petyr actually cares for. And he clearly doesn’t give a s**t about you.”
He gulps, as if he isn’t quite sure whether he should be relieved or offended.
“Take it from a man who loved his brother: stay away from Petyr,” I warn. “Get out of this cursed city and drop off his radar for good. Start your life over somewhere else, out of his shadow and his hold. You hear me?”
The k
