Page 133 of Graves

Jerry sits up abruptly and turns on the bedside lamp. His unshaven face, greasy brown hair, and the way he instantly switches modes the second he sees me only feed my rage.

I’m used to him looking at me like I’m dirt. He’s told me often enough. The reason is my father, Boris Rashkov, who was more of a father to me in all those years than he ever was.

How many times did Jerry threaten to send the cops after the Adelfia if I breathed a single word about the nightmare happening at home?

“You…” he growls, climbing out of bed. “What the hell is this? Why did you break in? You don’t live here anymore!”

My limbs tense. He’s triggering all the old mechanisms in me. As he steps closer, I focus on my breathing and the pressure of my clenched right hand.

The day my mother died, I moved in with my father—grieving, traumatized, and in shock. To the police, it was clear from the start that Jerry couldn’t possibly be the perpetrator, which made it impossible for me to sleep peacefully at night anymore. Because I know the truth.

“You killed my mom,” I hiss, letting every spark of hatred inside me flare up.

“Ha! You don’t actually believe that! Is that why you’re here?” he sneers. “Kid, whatever you’re planning, you are and always will be a loser!”

Jerry steps closer until he’s only three steps away. I know exactly what he’s going to do. I know him too well. But I’m ready.

“You might have talked your way out with the cops,” I say through gritted teeth, “but I know what a piece of shit you are.”

Jerry lets out a contemptuous snort and tilts his head. “So what? You have no proof. What are you going to do about it? I only have to call the cops and your whole family ends up behind bars.”

For years, he threatened me with that, but I know now he won’t do it.

Even he isn’t stupid enough to think he’d get away with it. He’s aware of one thing: he has no idea how powerful the Adelfia really is.

Now that we’re facing each other, we both know there’s only one way this ends. Either him or me.

He got away with making it look like suicide once before. It would be plausible for the grieving son to follow his mother into death.

But I have the Adelfia behind me, and that’s probably why Jerry hesitates.

A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. For the first time, I’m truly aware of my superiority over him.

“What are you grinning at, you little shit?”

“Hm… What are you going to do now?” I ask.

“Oh, I’m going to destroy you, you little fucker. Whatever you’re planning, you won’t get away with it. You just turned eighteen. Don’t think you won’t pay for this.”

I shift my right foot back and adjust my weight. When Jerry prepares to swing, I tense every muscle and slam my fist into his face with full force.

I trained that move with my brother for years, but it took my mother’s death for me to be able to use it.

The fear of this man is enormous, but the hatred and all-consuming thirst for revenge are overwhelming.

Jerry’s head snaps back. He loses his balance and crashes to the floor.

I didn’t knock him out, but he needs a moment to recover.

“You little piece of shit,” he curses, clutching his nose.

“How does that feel?” I ask, stepping closer.

He glares up at me with burning eyes. “You’ll pay for this.”

“Really?” I raise my brows. “Why do you think I’m here?”

He narrows his eyes with pure animosity. “We both know what a pathetic weakling you are. Breaking in here in the middle of the night. Don’t you have the balls to do this shit during the d—”