Chapter 54 Leech #2
A soft tsk-tsk-tsk somewhere off camera interrupted her, and she broke down into silent sobs, burying her face in her hands for a brief second. She gulped and continued.
They will send you instructions. On where to find me. They said…they said that you need to figure out your mistake. Think back and figure out what mistake you made when…when you destroyed my life.
A sharp unseen sound made her flinch violently, and the video cut off just as she squeezed her eyes shut and scrunched into herself.
I saw red. He was hurting her. He was destroying her. He was breaking her down, pulling the strings as if she was a puppet, and I was the one who brought her to John Clemens.
I shot to my feet, startling Sergei, who listened to the video with me.
“I led her to John Clemens.” I neared the couch where he lounged, all other surroundings blurring in my peripheral vision.
“If she never met up with him, he would’ve never found out we were together. All this…all because you lied.”
I could have done it—this was the moment. I could have pulled out my gun and blown his fucking brains out, watched the blood rush down his body. End his pathetic and pitiful existence.
“I’m sorry,” Sergei said earnestly, and I wasn’t sure if he’d ever apologized for anything in his life. “It had to be done. And it seemed like the perfect plan at that moment.”
That moment. He was the one who researched Dave’s background at that moment in time. Was he hiding more?
“Did you know that Dave had kids?” I asked, looking down at him still on the couch, the last of my energy and will to leave draining out of me.
“Yes.” Of course he did. “But I didn't really look into it. I thought they were younger, to be honest.”
Another stab in the heart.
There was nothing more I could say to him. There was nothing left inside me. Sergei was the mastermind behind unspeakable pain, crafted just for me.
"Get rest and get better.” I turned away, deciding it was best to abandon him now before I acted on my impulses.
“As soon as I get information on where to meet him, you're coming with me and flying Isla back to New York. If you fucking touch a hair on her body, Kirill will skin you alive. I’ll leave instructions.”
“Wait, wait, wait.” He trotted behind me and grabbed my arm. “You’re not actually fucking thinking of going through with this, are you?! Trading yourself for her? Let’s call Kirill; let’s just get her out, and that's it."
Like a rat on a sinking ship, Sergei held onto life.
"You’re still fucking breathing, aren’t you?” I narrowed my eyes at him, and he pulled back. “That’s how you get to keep your life—take Isla back, and I won’t be around to shoot a bullet through your rotten heart. Don’t fucking question me.”
I yanked my arm out of his grasp and walked out.
The door closed behind me, the silence of my apartment deafening. Even when Isla was in New York, the atmosphere in my apartment buzzed with her energy.
Memories of my short time with her accosted every one of my senses. The smell of her sweet skin on my sheets. The echo of her laugh in the hallway. Milk in the fridge for her morning coffee. Hot sauce and chili oil in the pantry—because Isla loved it.
Because I loved her. Because everything she did, everything she was, everything she liked and hated…became my little treasure. She was my purpose.
My love.
Would I get a chance to say goodbye? Would I get a chance to look into her eyes one last time? There was nothing I desired more than to be in her presence.
One. Last. Time.
This was fitting. A stupid death for a stupid man. I was emotionally stripped down to nothing. I had lost everyone. I had lived in a circus orchestrated by Sergei, who was creating tragedies and hiding the consequences of his lies.
And now…I fucking needed him. I hated it. I hated him, but I knew he would get Isla back safe and sound. I knew he would follow my last request.
Days slithered by at a snail’s pace. I called Isla’s number non-stop, but the phone had been turned off. I could only wait.
I transferred it all to cash as instructed, easily ready to give it all up—the money, cars, real estate; take it all. Take my life, I didn’t fucking care about anything. I only cared about her safety.
A week after the phone call, at five in the morning, my phone dinged with a text message, and I ripped it off my nightstand, my eyes burning from lack of any sleep. The text arrived. It was map coordinates of an old church in the middle of a tiny town right on Lake Como.
Come with one man to take her back. Arrive unarmed.
That was it. There were no more videos, there were no more texts, and none of the phone calls went through.
The private jet touched down on the runway in Milan’s airport, and Sergei looked up at me, asking the question once more, "You sure you want to do this?"
"Yes. Fuck, stop asking me; my answer won't change. Get Isla out as quickly as possible and get the fuck out of here."
After a brief pause, he nodded, keeping his mouth shut for good. After our last interaction he seemed regretful and depleted, all the life sucked out of him.
Regrettably, I wasn’t going to be the one to kill him.
Now, it was up to fate.