I swallow. "He drugged their drinks, and then he chased them up to the top floor of our home and slit their throats. Him and Lazarus."

"In front of the babies."

"Yeah, that's what he did. They went up there to protect their babies."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

This, I think.

She's frowning, focusing intently on me. The moment seems to slow, and I feel her like I always have.

"And he wanted to kill you, too? Is that true, too?"

"Yeah. He needed to take me out because he knew I'd be a threat to him. I was old enough to know what happened. To want vengeance. Konstantin hid me while it happened. He kept me quiet."

The tears are coming again. "And you heard Dad throw up after?"

"Yeah." It kills me, seeing her like this, hurting and fucked-up.

"And that was my dad and Lazarus chasing you? When you got burned?"

My pulse whooshes. "And now I'm back good as new. Let's have the gun. You don't really want it, right? We're going to work it all out."

"Lazarus is trying to kill baby Kiro. You're worried about baby Kiro."

If he's not already dead.

She walks unsteadily toward me, finger still on that fucking trigger. Nobody move, I think. Nobody spook her. I blank out the pain in my ankle, my head.

Her dark hair is wild and wavy around her shoulders, as if morphed with her mood. "You need to find baby Kiro."

"We'll find him. You remember him?" I say, willing her to lower the piece. "Remember his little hat? His little fingers?"

"So tiny."

"Yeah, we need to find Kiro. He's running out of time. I promised I'd protect him."

"You keep your promises."

"I do. How about giving me that gun, Mira."

She's right in front of me now. I consider grabbing the gun, but any fast movement could make her twitch. Suddenly she's doing something with her hands, pulling a ring off her finger, still holding that damn gun.

"Be careful where you point that," I say calmly. "Real careful."

She keeps working at the ring, the gun pointing this way and that. It seems like it's stuck on her middle finger, and she's pulling and pulling.

"You need help?"

"No." Finally she gets it off and presses it into my palm. "This was stuck on my finger for years. Dad and I even went to a doctor to ask about cutting it off. But I lost weight recently...I never told him when I finally was able to get it off and on and off and..."

"Uh-huh," I say.

"Don't you see?" She's swaying. "If he sees the ring..." She forms her words with difficulty, hopped up on whatever Viktor fed her. "If he sees the ring, he won't look at the finger. We'll fool him. Pretend it's my finger. But without showing him blood."

"What are you talking about, Mira?"

"He can't look at blood. It's why he threw up. He won't look at it. We'll give him a fake finger. He won't ever look at it."

"He's not stupid. He'd look."

"No. He'll pretend. He won't look at it. He gets sick."

"Wait." I straighten, remembering the smell of his puke after he killed my parents. "Blood makes him sick?"

"So sick, Aleksio. He keeps it secret." She sucks in her lips, focusing on nothing, fighting through whatever haze she's in. "He'll pretend to look, but he won't. Get an already dead finger. Wrap it in something bloody. When he sees the ring..." She swallows, swaying. "...When he gets the ring he'll accept the finger. No question. Won't look. He'll accept it." She looks up. "Do you get it?"

"I get it." Could it work?

"Give him warning. Don't just unveil it. You don't have to kill him." Tears in her eyes. "Promise."

"Promise what, baby?" I whisper, held in a trance by her cinnamon gaze...and, admittedly, the waving gun.

"Don't kill him. You can't kill him. Not ever."

Fuck.

"Promise," she says, swinging it up to chest level.

"Okay. I won't kill your dad."

"Promise. Not Viktor, either. Not any of your guys. You don't have any of your guys kill Dad."

Viktor growls.

I glare at him, choking down the rage. "Promise her, Viktor."

"I promise," he says.

Yeah, he'll settle for making him wish he was dead.

She lowers the weapon. As usual, she's forgotten herself. Viktor told the old man we'd kill her if we didn't get Kiro back. She didn't try to get that promise from us. Because that's what's inside her. She blows my mind-raised in a nest of vipers and she turns out strong and good. This is the real Mira. Not the Mira Mira shopping shit or the mafia princess at the party. This.

I hold out my hands. "Come here."

She comes to me.

I slide an arm around her and gently grab the cool barrel, keeping it downward. I whisper in her ear, "Let go of the piece." She loosens her grip, and I take it from her and hand the thing behind me to Tito.

I press my face in her hair. "You're okay, baby."

Her chest begins to shake. I realize she's crying. My ankle is screaming, but all I hear is Mira.

I stroke her hair. "It's okay. We'll make it okay."

She pulls away, eyes swollen, still gorgeous. "He killed a mother in front of her babies! Promise me...promise you'll help him if he needs it. Promise you'll get him medical attention if the blood fucks him up."

"But he probably won't even look, right?"

"Yeah, but if-"

"Sure." I brush back her hair. "What kind of criminal gang would we be if we didn't have a doctor or two on our payroll?"

"Hold on, what?" Currie says. "Me? Are we talking about Aldo Nikolla?"

I give him a look. We handled some deep loan-shark trouble for him. He owes us his life.

"I'm wearing a mask," he says.

"Wear a fucking mask, then." I nod at Viktor. "The morgue. We need a finger and some blood in an hour. Tito knows a guy." Viktor and Tito start working it out. We need to get this together fast.

"Wait, I might have a source," Currie says.

"Work it out," I say. It'll cost us, knowing Currie. Like I give a shit.

"We need to save baby Kiro," Mira says.

My heart hammers out of my chest. "Thank you."

"I'm sorry," she says.

"There's nothing to be sorry about. We're sorry. Viktor's sorry."

She narrows her eyes at him, trying to focus. "But you love him."

I twist her hair around my hand, feeling crazy.

She tries to focus on my face. "He's your brother," she says, words thick and strange, as if in a trance. "He's trying to save his baby brat. You love him."

I push my face into her hair and breathe in the scent. I let myself be half-insane.

Mine.

Dr. Currie's coordinating with Viktor. They've got Tito and Yuri hitting a medical school. Currie knows about an insecure entrance. Bodies donated to science.

He leads the others into the house. He wants us in the kitchen. I'm having trouble walking. Fucking ankle.

Currie slaps the kitchen table. "Up here, Aleksio."

"Mira needs you more. Take her pulse and shit. She's been drugged up and traumatized." I clench my fists, resisting the impulse to fly at Viktor.

Currie sits her down on a kitchen chair and checks her pupils with a small light. Now that the adrenalin is ratcheted down, Mira's being silly, saying that stupid Russian action-star thing at one point.

Viktor leans in the doorway. His face looks like shit. Eye swelling up. Lip a fat, bloody mess. He's fucked up and sparkling and defiant, military haircut sleek and smooth. "What about Kiro?"

"Watch me burn the world for him."

"We lost time." His gaze goes to Mira.

I stalk over to him and throw him against the wall.

Viktor's nostrils flare. "You will kill me, brat?"

Mira whimpers.

"Take it the fuck outside," Currie barks.

I squeeze my eyes shut tight. I hate that I'm distressing her. I have to stop, I have to...

Viktor grabs my wrists. "I am frightened for him."

Kiro. He's talking about Kiro.

"Do I need to give Mira the gun again?" Currie says.

"I don't remember him," Viktor says softly. "You knew him. You got to hold him."

Fuck. I let Viktor down. "We'll get him."

We watch Currie listen to her heart. We talk in low tones about how to present the finger to her father. What would make the most impact? In a napkin, in a box. We know now if we smear it up with blood and give him the ring separately, he won't look at the finger. He'll tell us what we want to know if there's more to tell.

It's then that the call comes in from the chop shop. Our guys holding Nikolla. I answer. "Talk."

"The fucker's in the wind."

"What? He's gone?"

"Old man got out. He turned Driscoll, we think."

My heart pounds. "Driscoll?" Driscoll's one of my guys, who I sent to help Viktor's Russians. I've always had his utter loyalty.

Viktor's face goes white. He's heard enough to get the picture.

My man drones on. "That's what we think. Dima's dead. We think the old man turned Driscoll, and then Driscoll shot him and got out."

Dima. Viktor's youngest guy. A great guy. Viktor slams a fist through the wall.

I close my eyes. "I will destroy that fucker."