Chapter 34
Leon
Instead of being useless in the office, I head toward one of the lower floors, my fists clenched from all the anger that has nowhere to go.
My throat constricting, I unbutton the top two buttons on my shirt, before pressing my finger to the biometric scanner.
It beeps and lets me in, darkness seeping into my vision.
The barely visible figure tied to the single chair in front of me lets out a muffled gasp.
He sees even less than I do, his eyes covered with a blindfold.
I turn on the dimmed lights and uncover his eyes.
This wouldn’t be nearly as cathartic in pitch dark.
His eyelids blink as he winces, his vision clearly unused to the light.
Regular people tend to think that violence is the only way to torture someone, but us who actually do it know that it couldn’t be further from the truth.
Psychological torture is a fate much worse than physical.
Our bodies are equipped to handle physical pain.
Once the pain exceeds the threshold, the person simply faints, stopping all the fun.
But this, being kept in a dark, silent room, your senses working overtime, your synapses firing on all cylinders, and stress pushing your heartbeat past what feels safe…
this isn’t something your body can save you from.
As I watch his eyes widen with terror, I know I’ve made the right choice.
I’m still unsure of how I want to deal with him, but this violence inside of me needs to be let out.
My mind replays the words on Alex’s medical records, her picture flashing in my mind and I get to work.
A knee to the ribs, and I hear them crack under his muffled screams. Rib fractures.
A fancy shoe to his groin, multiple times. Femoral sublixation.
I grab a hammer from the wall covered in torture tools and the blood splatters as it connects to his arm. Radius fracture.
I add three punches to his cheek, just because, and as my chest heaves and my knuckles sting, I feel like I can finally breathe again.
Dom will need to patch him up. His medical training in the military is enough to keep him alive, which is exactly what I need. I’m not ready for him to die. Not yet.
It’s early morning as I lie fully awake, sleep avoiding me. The fact that I hurt the guy who hurt her doesn’t absolve me from my own guilt. The look of distress on Alex’s face flashes in my mind on repeat. She’s right.
I fucked up.
I know why I did it. I know exactly why the thought of her betrayal made me act like I did. But that doesn’t make it right. She’s been through so much. Trusting me couldn’t have been easy, and then I fucked up.
Both of my hands land over my face, and I groan with frustration. How could I have been so wrong?
Guilt and frustration turn to anger in my stomach, reminding me of Luka.
He left the family and the business. He left me.
All because of his infatuation with Sophie.
All because of love. A scoff breaks free at the thought.
Is she really more important than family?
Is he really willing to risk everything we’ve built?
My thoughts drift to Alex again. My rules went out the window from the first day I met her.
I’ve let her into my house. I’ve let her carry a gun inside of my casino and home.
I’ve let her distract me from work. Even when I thought she betrayed me, none of my typical rules applied.
Instead of killing her, I’ve let her go.
Instead of hurting her, I tried to keep her safe.
No matter how angry I was, the thought of her getting hurt was unbearable.
While we were apart, I couldn’t stop thinking about her.
I’ve threatened the mayor, and I’m keeping a police chief hostage because they harmed her, for fuck’s sake.
She has dug herself so deep under my skin that it aches to imagine life without her. When did that happen?
It’s easy to blame Luka for acting irrationally while not recognizing my own mistakes, but if I take a long, hard look at myself, I can’t deny that I’m acting just as infatuated.
Giving up on sleep, I decide it’s best to get an early start to my day.
I’m needed at the casino today, anyway. It’s not like sleep will come soon.
The coffee machine whirls as I make breakfast mindlessly, not eating a bite of it.
Still, I place it in the fridge with a little note so that Alex knows it’s for her.
If she even wants to eat what I made. My chef usually makes my meals, but I don’t want anyone in my apartment as long as Alex is here.
Two sips of scalding hot coffee later, I’m heading out of the apartment.
The door is unlocked, but the building is brimming with my personnel, and they all have strict orders not to let her get outside.
On my way to the office, I order another bouquet, in a feeble attempt to make things better.
The workday is mundane until Dom walks into my office after dark, informing me his men are ready for the distillery hit.
Stuck in thoughts about everything that happened, I almost forgot that we moved it from the night we looked for Alex to tonight.
I unclench my jaw because it starts hurting, and almost wish him good luck, before realizing this might be just what I need.
There’s one thing I know for sure, and it’s that I’m done fucking around.
The family business is slipping from my fingers, and so is Alex. I don’t plan to lose either of them. No matter what it takes.
“I’m coming with you,” I blurt out, rising from my chair.
He turns toward me in slow-motion. “You’re…coming with us?”
“Yes. Got a problem with that?”
“No, ?efe. It’s just that you don’t typically come along.”
“Well, this is a big hit. I want to see it.” It’s a massive hit. Most men would think that this hit would be the end of the war, but I know better than to underestimate my opponents.
“Okay. But you should change.” He gestures at the freshly pressed three-thousand-dollar suit I’m wearing.
“It’s fine, I’ll just stay in the car.” It’s a lie. But I don’t plan on changing. Besides, I have nothing but shirts and suits in my office closet.
“Let’s go then.”
With adrenaline coursing through my bloodstream, I follow Dom to the car.
He spends the half-hour drive talking on the phone, arranging every single detail of the operation.
By the number of codewords I don’t understand, it’s obvious I’m not trained for this.
Everyone else on the team has a military background, some of them ex-special ops like the man sitting next to me, but I’m still the one paying for it.
We exit the city and continue driving along a deserted road.
A few miles out, Dom takes a right turn, toward the woods, and parks at the edge of the trees.
Further away, I see an expansive single-story building.
Its gray walls are dimly lit by LED lights, but no lights are on inside.
“Gentlemen,” I say quietly, exiting the car. I count five men in full tactical gear, greeting me with a simple nod. Their faces are mostly hidden behind the black helmets and night-vision goggles, their chests covered with gear.
The one on the far-left gestures his head to Dom. “He coming?”
Dom opens his mouth to speak, but I place a hand on his shoulder.
“I am.”
Dom’s sigh is audible, but he knows better than to question my judgement.
“He should get geared up, then,” the same man comments, before loading his gun.
Dom opens the trunk of the car, pulling out a vest for me.
He shoves it into my chest with more force than necessary, making me smirk.
I pull the vest over my head, attaching the straps to my stomach while Dom digs through the trunk.
He extracts a pair of infrared goggles, which will be helpful, and hands me a gun.
“No need. I have my own.”
He rolls his eyes at me. He must be furious. I never do this shit. But tonight, I need to get my hands dirty.
“You carry this, then,” he says, handing me a backpack. The bag is heavy as I slump it over my shoulders. I know exactly what’s inside. C4. “You’ll follow me and you won’t ask questions,” he says, trying to convey the message with a glare.
“Yes, boss,” I taunt him.
He shows the guys their directions and makes a few hand gestures that send them running toward the building.
Dom and I follow along, crouching slightly and making our way as quietly as possible.
My freshly polished shoes trudge through the wet ground, and for a second, I regret not listening to Dom. Not that I’d admit it.
Four guys head to the front entrance of the distillery, while one guy joins Dom and me on our way to the back.
Dom lifts his fist in the air, and I don’t have to be military trained to know it means stop.
There’s a guard taking a piss near the back entrance.
The sound of his urine hitting the grass covers the sound of our steps as we reach him.
Dom wraps an arm around his neck, pressing a gun to his head.
With a quiet click, it fires, and the guard drops to the floor.
We continue our way inside, planting the explosives from the backpack I’m wearing. We zigzag around the copper tanks where they ferment the potatoes. By the sheer amount of alcohol inside, the place is already a ticking time-bomb, but now, I can’t wait to see it up in flames.
Dom’s guy shoots another guard as he approaches us, and eventually, we run into the rest of our group.
Using hand signals again, we split and make our way out.
We pass three dead bodies. My nose scrunches with disgust. I’d feel guilty if it weren’t for the fact that the Russians killed my father.
No, the bastards deserve everything coming to them.
We exit the building, and Dom extracts a small black device. He runs toward our cars, and I follow behind.
“Give me that,” I whisper, and he widens his eyes.
This entire trip must have come as a shock to him.
I’m the guy living a cushy life inside one of my offices, not the guy planting explosives or detonating them.
Still, I don’t mind the way my heart pumps faster, or the way my brain is busy enough not to think about the shock of everything I learned yesterday.
Dom hands me the detonator, and I take a long, hard look at it. My gaze turns both ways, counting the men to make sure we’re all here, before my fist squeezes around the device.
A barely audible click is followed by a deafening boom.
The rapid release of energy rattles my bones, making me duck instinctively as the ground shakes beneath me.
The windows shatter, and the heat of the fire fills the air.
The smell of smoke seeps into my nostrils as I wince from the buzz in my ears, staring at the mesmerizing scene in front of me.
My eyes widen, while the fire crackles before them, and my breath comes in short bursts.
I could get used to this. It’s the most alive I’ve felt since…
Well, since the last night I spent with Alex.
The thought sours my mood again. I thank the men and get into the car. Dom starts it, and we ride for a few minutes before he breaks the silence.
“So, should I expect you to join us on more of these jobs?” he asks, shooting me a quick glance.
I shrug. “Maybe.”
“Not that I mind. But I’d prefer you to wear appropriate attire and have the full gear.”
My gaze drops to my now-wrinkled suit and ruined shoes. It wasn’t my plan to blow up a building today, but waiting around has become insufferable.
It’s after midnight when I get home, but the first thing I do when I enter my building is visit my little prisoner.
He looks like shit. The stench emanating from him is vomit-inducing, and his bloodied, beaten face doesn’t look any better.
His breaths are short and heavy, courtesy of the broken ribs.
He’s still alive thanks to Dom and Andre’s efforts to patch him up and feed him just enough to survive.
I repeat the same process as last night. A kick to the ribs. A stomp to the groin. A hammer to the arm — other arm this time. A punch to the face.
I didn’t have much of a plan when I took him, guided by the blinding rage that was coursing through me after I found out what he did to Alex.
While I stare at him a hair away from death, I’m not sure I have one now.
There is a feeling deep in my chest, like there is a purpose to him being here, but I haven’t found it yet.
I take my first deep breath as I enter the building’s hallway.
Still, the stench sticks to my nose as the elevator takes me upstairs to the apartment.
I huff, trying to expel the smell as I turn the doorknob.
The second my foot steps inside, something hits me in the face.
The rotten smell is replaced by a flowery scent and I realize Alex threw the flowers I got her at my head.
I spit out a rose petal, catching the flowers before they hit the floor.
Glancing up at her, I’m met with the fire in her eyes.
She looks me up and down, as if checking whether I’m in one piece.
Her cheeks are rosy with anger, and I can’t help but notice how beautiful she looks.
Gorgeous blue eyes are narrowed at me as she crosses her arms in front of her chest, before she lets out a scoff and walks away.
“What was that for?” I call after her, though I have a pretty good idea. I’d do anything to keep her attention just a little longer.
“If that was an attempt at an apology for how you acted, it’s not accepted.” She barely glances back at me.
“It wasn’t.”
“Good. Because it’s way too late for that.”
“Were you waiting around for me?”
She lets out a full-on growl, and a smirk forms on my lips. Was she worried about me? It’s obvious she’s pissed at me, but I can work with that. I’d take flying objects at my face over her tear-filled eyes any day of the week.