“Let him go,” Konstantin told the guards.
Oh God, he’s going to deal with this guy himself?! Konstantin was strong, but the other guy looked mean as hell. There was real muscle under the fat and both of his hands were covered in big, ugly-looking rings. I imagined those fists slamming into Konstantin and—
I was worried about him. This man I’d come to betray, the one who’d kill me if he found out who I really was... I didn’t want to see him get hurt.
The guards released the man and he charged at Konstantin, lowering his head at the last minute. They slammed together and I drew in a panicked breath as Konstantin slid backward. What if he goes off the edge?!
But Konstantin regained his footing and the fight began. I winced as the other guy started throwing punches at Konstantin’s face and ribs...and Konstantin just took it. He stood his ground, barely moving, and when a punch snapped his head to the side, he turned it back for more. Why isn’t he hitting back? He’s going to get killed! I wanted to look away, but I forced myself to watch.
And then I saw what was happening.
Konstantin’s teeth were gritted and he was panting in pain, but with each punch he absorbed, his face set a little more, becoming a mask of fury. He’s punishing himself, I realized. He thinks he deserves this, because those people got hurt. That’s why he was fighting the man himself instead of letting one of his men do it. This was his responsibility.
And when his rage had built to a peak, he exploded. His first punch sent the guy staggering back across the roof. His second knocked him almost off his feet. Then Konstantin grabbed him by the throat and, despite his size, hefted him into the air. “Who do you work for?” he bellowed.
The guy spat out a tooth. “I answer to Dmitri Ralavich,” he said with pride.
I caught my breath. Then my stomach lurched as the whole roof shifted under my feet. It wasn’t my imagination: the building was swaying in the wind.
Konstantin scowled. “You’re lying. Ralavich is in St. Petersburg.”
“Ralavich is here in New York, with a hundred men like me.” The arsonist lifted his chin. “We’re going to take this city from you.”
I listened, stunned. No one was looking at me, so I risked whispering to Calahan. “Are you getting this?”
Calahan answered immediately. “I’m getting it.” He sounded as worried as me. Konstantin was the most notorious crime boss, but Ralavich was pure, undiluted evil.
“Ralavich will never take over here,” Konstantin snarled.
But Ralavich’s guy wouldn’t back down, even though Konstantin had him by the throat. He was nothing like one of Konstantin’s men, with their calm order and military discipline. He reminded me more of the dealer who’d killed Rufus, just a street thug but with an ego swollen with power. “The people you protect will be ours,” he said. “The women will be our whores and the men our slaves and the ones who won’t obey will burn in their beds. And you and your family will be forgotten.”
For a second, Konstantin’s eyes went colder than I’d ever seen them. A merciless cold, a cold without hope. There was so much pain there, so much loss, it made my chest ache. This was the root of all the cold I’d seen in him, I was sure of it. This was what those brief glimpses of warmth were fighting against.
Then he roared in fury and strode towards the corner of the roof, the guy still dangling from his fist. “Oh Jesus, he’s going to kill him,” I whispered.
“Don’t interfere!” said Calahan quickly. “Remember, you’re Christina!”
I knew he was right. Christina wouldn’t care if Konstantin killed the guy. And I knew that Konstantin must have killed before: he couldn’t have gotten this far without taking a life. But I couldn’t just stand by and watch him kill someone. Not even when it was an arsonist who’d nearly killed a whole family. “Stop!” I yelled. But the wind had risen to a howl and it snatched my voice away.
“Hailey, don’t!” warned Calahan.
I had to get closer and that meant…. I gulped and started running towards Konstantin. He was on my side of the building, but at the opposite end, so my path took me right along the edge of the roof. I was terrifyingly close to that sickening black drop and the wind was coming in fierce, unpredictable gusts, ready to send me over. “Stop!” I yelled again. This time, some of the guards heard and looked around in amazement. But Konstantin didn’t react.
I was halfway along the roof when the gust of wind hit me. I went staggering sideways, awkward and unstable in my heels, and came to a skittering stop—
I looked down. My feet were six inches from the edge of the roof.