Page 114 of Twisted Little Game

“When it comes to protecting him, I can control everything I fucking want. I will never let him into this life, Maks.”

“You already have.”

“Shut your mouth,” I tell him, my words coming out in English.

“Then face the fucking truth. You can’t block yourself from the world because you were born with our last name.”

“I’ve been doing it my whole life. I assure you, I can.”

“You are so fucking lucky to have someone like Tate who wants you,” Maks tells me, and when I finally do glance over at him, I see pure rage in his eyes. “You don’t know how much some people want that. How much I want that, from someone as good as Tate.”

“Stop talking about him. We are close to Yegor’s house.”

“I know exactly where we fucking are.”

“You want it to be like this?” I ask him. “Our last conversation before we may be massacred, we fight?”

“If I am going to be killed, I will be happy knowing my last words were telling the cousin I love the truth.”

“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath.

My chest is as tight as a drum.

I can see the turn-off onto Yegor’s property up ahead, and I bite down so hard on my cheek I taste blood.

I pull the vehicle into the long gravel driveway, cutting the headlights the moment we pull up outside Yegor’s house.

“Look. The cars.”

Maks nods as we look over and see that there are three other vehicles pulled up on the side of the driveway.

Yegor does have company.

“Did we need to bring more people?” Maks murmurs. “I don’t like this.”

“I don’t like it either. But we’re here. Yegor’s already seen our arrival on his cameras.”

I cut the engine and its roar dissipates into silence.

We get out of the car, our boots crunching softly on the gravel as we step toward the front door of the house.

I check for shadows behind every tree. Yegor’s property is well lit, though, with tiny glowing lamps dotted all along the walkway and under the trees. There could be men circling the perimeter, but I see nothing as we walk up to the front.

Lights are on inside. I step up to the front door and knock three times.

Gun in the left pocket, and in the back right.

Three knives.

And the rope.

The front door swings open and Yegor is there, holding a cocktail glass in one hand with a cigar between his lips.

His eyes widen as he nods at me.

“Roman! Maks! What a pleasure. What brings you here?”

I can hear jazz music playing in the house and the sound of chatter. There are multiple guys inside, but I can’t see who.