Page 162 of The Wrong Brother

“Attorney General!”

“Andrei!”

He stumbles backward, a finger jabbed toward me. “This is a setup! He’s a criminal!”

The accusation cuts through the noise just enough to regain the crowd’s attention.Thataccusation isn’t a good look, either, because it means that Andrei’s known all along just how dangerous I am and hasn’t done anything sooner.

“He runs organized crime in California!”

More murmurs, though titters are among them. I glance out at the crowd and can see disbelief on some people’s faces.

“He came back to establish himself in Denver again! By unseating me, he’ll have free rein to bring drugs, prostitution, and violence back into this city.”

For one dangerous moment, I feel the room beginning to shift. He’s gripping both edges of the podium now, his voice firm and steady—the voice he’s always used to convince everyone of whatever he wanted them to believe.

Eyes turn toward me instead.

Toward Emma, who waits just off the side of the stage. Toward the security surrounding us, who look so much different than Andrei’s obvious governmental lackeys.

Andrei sees it too. He smiles.

Then another voice slices through the chaos.

“He’s telling the truth about one thing.”

Victoria.

She walks steadily onto the stage, wearing a pale blue dress. A dark pair of sunglasses covers her eyes despite the indoor lighting. By the look on Andrei’s face, he wasn’t expecting his beautiful wife to be here to support him.

She removes the glasses. The bruise beneath one eye is impossible to miss.

Gasps ripple through the crowd, flashes going off. People are already typing on their phones and, undoubtedly, this will be on social media in seconds.

Victoria strides onto the stage and takes the microphone from my hand before I can offer it.

“My husband is abusive.”

The words echo across the arena.

“He abused Shannon.”

Her voice never shakes.

“He abused me.”

Another pause.

“And if you ask enough women...”

She looks directly at Andrei.

“...you’ll find we weren’t the only ones.”

Absolute pandemonium.

Reporters surge toward the stage so quickly that security struggles to contain them. Questions fly faster than anyone cananswer; microphones thrust toward Andrei from every direction as his campaign staff rushes forward in open panic.

I watch him disappear beneath the swarm.