“Would you like that?” Oleg asks me with sick glee. “It’ll be a bastard, of course. But Zakrevsky blood is still Zakrevsky blood, and I know you’ll be good to your new little brother or sister.”
Pavel shifts in his seat next to me. It’s his way of reminding me that ripping Oleg’s vocal cords through his ribcage is not, in fact, the best course of action right now.
Even if we both know he’d hold the old man down for me to do it.
Oleg is expectant, waiting for me to answer. What do I say? What can I say that won’t immediately put Clara or myself into danger?
I force myself to shrug and lean back in the couch. “s**t, man, I don’t f*****g care what you do.”
Oleg peers at me. I’m giving him no reason to not trust me, but nothing can or will stop him from being an overly suspicious man. May
