My mind is so full of thoughts, dark thoughts and guilty thoughts and raging thoughts that all make it impossible to hear whatever the f**k Greg crowed about in the aftermath of his dropped bomb. It’s easier to just tune it all out. Let it play as the white noise to my meditation over who I’m going to murder first.
Greg? Martin? Oleg? Raizo?
Greg. It has to be Greg.
“What do you have against the Zakrevskys?”
Clara’s question yanks me back out of that mental storm. I lean forward in my chair and crank the volume up even more, as if the background static might reveal extra hints or hidden answers.
“It’s all about control, sweetheart. You need to learn this. I’ve been trying to teach you your whole life. You have to keep things under control at all times. Oleg knew how to play by the rul
