Page 82 of Twisted Little Game

“Explain.”

“Pretty, isn’t it?”

“What did you do on your own?” I ask in a low, even tone, trying not to show how angry I am while Tate is nearby. I’m not sure if he can hear my conversation from where he’s standing.

“Excuse me? I can’t go have fun hunting without papa Roman out there with me?” Yegor asks. “You’ve been busy. If you’re not going to come to your father’s dinners, or meet with me to talk strategy, then I’m going to take action on my own.”

“We don’t need strategy right now. We need information. Killing random Maletti grunts isn’t going to do anything but piss them off⁠—”

“I want to piss them off. You hate the Maletti family as much as I do.”

I rip off a thick strip of bark from the tree in front of me, tossing it to the ground.

How does Yegor not understand that this is why I am avoiding him?

Part of the reason, at least.

Watching over Tate has been a much more absorbing task than I anticipated, and I’ve been drawn to him more than… anything else in my life.

It’s felt amazing not to think about this.

The Malettis.

The war Yegor seems to want so badly.

“I hate them more than you’re capable of hating anything in the world. I assure you. But I want them fully gone. I don’t want to re-start the war.”

My chest tightens like someone’s tensing a spring inside me.

“Doesn’t seem like you do want them gone, Roman,” Yegor says in my ear. “Seems like you’re too fixated on being a normal college student lately.”

“You have no idea what I am working on.”

“Yet I am working on what matters,” Yegor says. “I promise you I’m doing it for the both of us. You would be so proud of me.”

Yegor’s trying to play at my biggest strength, the strength he could never understand.

Patience.

Yegor doesn’t have it. He can’t understand the concept of letting things happen over time.

Tension coils tighter inside me. The Maletti family are responsible for my mother’s death. My other cousin Kuzma’s death, too. Responsible for nearly killing one of my Onyx Society brothers, just a few months ago, too.

I would piss on the grave of every Maletti who had a hand in killing my mother, and I would do it with pleasure.

Of course I want them scrubbed from the face of the Earth.

But I know good things don’t come from rash action, and that’s all Yegor knows how to do.

“I’ll meet with you at Capp’s Monday night,” I tell him.

“Finally.”

“Don’t meddle in anything more until I talk with you.”

“I only killed a new Maletti grunt, Roman. It was small-time. Just sending a little message, like a card saying I’m still thinking of you.”

“Don’t touch anyone until we talk.”