“Unfortunately,” she says. “Got room on that bed for one more?”
Smiling, I slip to the other corner of the bed so that Freya can get in next to me. The headboard behind us looks padded, but it’s barely more than plywood. I make a conscious decision not to wonder how any of the many repulsive stains I can see might’ve gotten there.
“How did you find out?” she asks.
“I got a message.”
She glances at me incredulously. “I’m sorry, what?”
“This message came from an unknown number. I almost didn’t open it, but it was a video.”
She tenses immediately. “What was on it?”
“Footage of a fight between him and Marina.”
“That was his wife?”
“Yeah. That was her.”
“So… you saw her?” Freya asks curiously.
“Yes. I mean, kind of. She was onscreen, but the image was so grainy that I wouldn’t be able to pick her out of a lineup. Anyway, all I know about her is that she was blonde and beautiful.”
“Who told you that?”
“Anton.” Even saying his name hurts. It’s like pouring salt in a wound.
“What else did he tell you about her?”
“He said she was crazy.”
“How?”
“She was apparently insanely jealous,” I say. “She was possessive and controlling. She had a temper, too. That, at least, I can attest to. I saw her storm one of his meetings on the video that was sent to me.”
“Do you have the video?” she asks.
I take my phone out and open the video for her. I close my eyes and rest the back of my head against the headboard while she watches it.
“Wow,” she breathes a few moments later. “That was…”
“Terrible?”
“That’s one word for it.”
“Even if he’s telling the truth and she really was crazy, that doesn’t justify him killing her.”
“Definitely not,” Freya agrees.
I glance at her. “I can’t make excuses for him anymore, Freya. No matter what my feelings for him are.”
She glances towards the window. “Did you tell Chris?”
“Which part?”
“The part where you admit to falling for a Bratva don.”
I sigh. “Yes.”