Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
ALEKSEI
The door closes behind her, but I don’t move. Not right away.
Not when my blood is still thrumming with the taste of her. Her scent rooted in the air. Her sounds echoing in this room like a memory I’ll take to the grave.
I see it all. Feel it again like it’s happening now. Every twitch. Every tremble. Every war she waged and lost.
She will pretend it meant nothing. She will lie because she has to. It’s the only way she survives this.
But I know the truth. I felt it. She’s powerless against me. Just the way I like it.
It’s in the way her body opened for mine. The way her breath caught when I kissed the skin she tried to hide. The way she whimpered when I wrapped that collar around her throat, and the way she loved every second of it.
My perfect, self-righteous prosecutor.
I gave her the fantasies she won’t ever admit she has. And now she’s running. Again.
I drag a hand through my hair, jaw tight as I button my shirt.
Let her run. Let her cling to whatever illusion of choice she thinks she has left. It won’t matter.
Because I own her now. Body. Mind. Soul.
And anyone who tries to get in the way of that? Will bleed for it.
Speaking of bleeding…
I have unfinished business, by the name of Wesley Dawson. Exiting the room, I head down the hall, opening the door to a secure stairwell. Our men greet me with a nod, knowing exactly where I’m headed.
To the room no one ever comes out of.
My boots echo down the metal steps, each one a countdown to a reckoning that should’ve happened the second that svolich laid eyes on Fiona.
I should’ve ended him at the vineyard. Should’ve dragged him behind the barrels and slit his goddamn throat the moment he smiled at her.
But I waited. Watched. Wanted to know who he was before I killed him.
Because I would never have allowed him to invest in the vineyard. That was not an option he had.
Then he did something worse. He hurt her. And now he’s going to bleed for it.
I didn’t know he was a member of Rzvrt. We have too many to keep track of.
But I followed her on the cameras the second he picked her up. And to my surprise, they were coming right to me.
I waited to see if she would let him touch her and how much I’d be able to watch before I killed him just for breathing the same air as her.
And now? He’s stripped to the waist, wrists chained above his head, swaying like carcass meat in the middle of the basement. My men got started without me.
Good. Saves me time.
Wesley’s eyes widen the second I step inside. That flicker of fear brings me satisfaction. His ribs are already mottled with bruises, a cut splits his lip, and a thin stream of blood snakes down his thigh where somebody got creative.
“Having too much fun without me?” My laugh bounces off the concrete as I head for the weapons my men laid out for me on the small table in the corner of the room, picking up the brass knuckles I enjoy using.
“Da.” My cousin Dimitri smirks as he wipes his hands on a towel. “On khotel dat’ kazhdomu iz nas po millionu, chtoby my ego otpustili.” He wanted to give each of us a million to let him go.
The rest of the men chuckle, stepping aside to make space for me.
“Is that true, Wesley?” I slap him forcefully, just to see his head snap back. “Were you going to bribe my men to betray me?”
He lifts his head and groans, blood bubbling at the corner of his mouth when he tries to speak.
I don’t give him the chance. The knuckles drive into his gut once, twice, hard enough to make his whole body jerk like a puppet on a string, his groans loud and beautiful.
“Tell me who sent you.”
But I already know. I’m just waiting to see how long it takes him to crack.
I hit him again and again. He whimpers, his knees buckling. Heading back to the tools, I drop the knuckles and pick up a golf club this time. Swinging it lazily from hand to hand, I watch him start to shake.
“P-p-please,” he stammers, chest heaving. “I-I’ll tell you whatever you want.”
“Who sent you? Why did you go see the Clarks?”
“They…they paid me, okay? They said all I had to do was make them think I wanted to invest and then sign the vineyard to—”
I step closer, the smell of his fear rising with each shallow inhale.
“To who?” My voice drops to a growl. “Speak.”
“F-f-fuck!” His whole face tightens, terror carved into every line.
“Believe me.” I lean in until my shadow swallows him. “I’m much scarier than whoever paid you. Open your mouth and give me a name before I grow tired of it and decide to rip your tongue out.”
“Alright! Alright!” he sobs. “His name is Daniil Volkov. Very scary guy. He wants the vineyard. I don’t know why, I swear. I only know what they paid me to do.”
I pat his blood-slicked face, the way you might a dog that finally obeyed. “That was very helpful.”
He gasps like oxygen will save him. It won’t.
“And Fiona?” I ask, taking a slow step forward, tone turning razor-sharp. “Did they tell you to touch her? Were you told to lay your filthy fucking hands on her?”
“No! No, I swear. That was a mistake. I didn’t know she was yours. I was just—”
“You do now.” I swing the club hard until it connects with his face with a crunch, ripping into his cheek.
His scream tears free, short-lived, before I swing again. And again. And again.
Bone cracks. Blood sprays. Skin gives way to meat. I don’t stop until there’s nothing left but pulp, until even his mother wouldn’t recognize what used to be her son.
The club clatters to the floor when I’m done. Rinsing my hands in the sink, I splash water on my face, meeting my own gaze in the mirror.
She made me kill for her when I should’ve killed her instead. A long time ago.
What a fucking twist of events.
I turn to my men. “Burn the body. Dispose of the ID.”
They nod without question.
The Volkovs will pay for this. They all will. I’ll rip out every vein one by one until there’s nothing left to kill.
And Fiona? She might hate me, but she’ll never have to worry about another man touching her again.
Not while I’m still breathing.