Chapter 29
TWENTY-NINE
M y feet pound against the treadmill, each thud reverberating through my body. ‘Finding my way’ by Acehood bounces through my headphones, drowning out my thoughts. It’s been a week since the raid, and we’re still no closer to finding out who was behind it all. Our suspicions say the Russians, especially since Milo knew about it, but we have no evidence of that.
We’ve tasked Gracie with digging deeper into that, to see if she can come up with anything. I’m not holding out hope, but there’s not much else we can do. So, to keep myself distracted from lashing out on Milo for answers, I’ve holed myself up in my gym.
Sweat drips down my temple, sliding down my bare chest. My feet kick up faster and faster as I increase the intensity on the machine. My heart thumps a rigorous beat, slamming against my chest. I glance down at the clock, reading 1:27:34 on the screen. I’ve been running for over an hour and not thought once about anything but moving my feet, one in front of the other. This is why I love working out– because it clears my head, helps me refocus, and I don’t have the unwanted voices screaming in my mind.
I’m panting through my last mile when my phone rings through my headphones. Slamming my palm down on the emergency stop button, I step off the treadmill. My legs feel like jelly, but in a good way.
I perch on the weight bench, reaching for my towel as I answer the call. “What’s up?”
“Meet me down at The Ravenite.”
My brows pinch together as I wipe my face. “Why?”
“Cillian found out who was behind the raid, and you’re going to love this.”
I swallow back the lump suddenly lodged in my throat. Please don’t say Milo. I don’t know what I’ll do if he says his name. I might still be pissed about the current situation, but I don’t know if I can stand by and watch Roman lay into the guy. Plus, that’ll just make things between us and the Russians even more tense.
“Vee?”
“Yeah.” I snap out of my thoughts, shaking my head. “Who is it?”
“Alanis told you about the attack, right?”
I exhale loudly, leaning forward to run a hand over my face. Hating that I have to remember what my sister told me, I close my eyes and nod. “Yeah, but you got them all.” I frown.
Roman laughs sardonically, the sound just as sinister as I know his thoughts are. “I got two of them, but this guy, this guy is a cop.”
“The fuck?” I shoot up from my spot, my back ramrod straight. My fists clench and I’m prepared to break faces when Roman’s voice finally trickles in past the red hot rage I’m feeling.
“Bro, take a deep breath. I’m not going to kill him, I’m reluctantly leaving that justice up to Lani.”
“Ro, I don?—”
“Trust me, we’ll make him hurt. But this will be about the Russians, not her.”
I don’t understand Roman sometimes. He’s going against everything we’ve been brought up in. Torturing enemies sends messages. Killing enemies sets a precedent.
“So we’re not going to kill the asshole for what he did?” I growl. I don’t understand the injustice, but Roman seems dead set on his decision. This should be a discussion, though. He doesn’t get to decide that shit on his own.
“Stop it, Vee. I know you’re pissed, but I’m trying real fucking hard not to piss your sister off. She’s still got me by the balls about the other two guys, I don’t need to give her another reason to hate me.”
I scoff at that, but take a deep breath nonetheless. Alanis deserves justice for what happened five years ago, and I know she wants to deliver that herself. The fact that it’s someone working with the Russians only makes torturing him more appealing, though. This just got personal on a whole new level, and I’m prepared to make the fucker pay.
“I’ll be down in half an hour.” I don’t waste time in saying goodbye. I hang up and sprint to the bathroom, quickly running through the motions of getting washed and dressed. In less than ten minutes, I’m sliding into my Mercedes and hitting the gas, speeding into the city.
My heart drums against my chest so harshly that I feel like it might explode, a mixture of excitement and anticipation making me dizzy. My fists clench around the steering wheel, my knuckles whitening as I swerve between cars, desperate to get to The Ravenite as fast as I can.
It doesn’t take long for me to reach the club with the way I’m driving. When I pull up behind Roman’s car, Baz is standing guard outside. He gives me a curt nod when I step out onto the pavement, his hand going to the front door of the club to push it open.
It’s too early for it to be open to the public, so there’s nothing but silence enveloping me as soon as I step inside. No music, no clattering of staff moving through the building, just an unadulterated quietude that seeps into the marrow of my bones. There’s an ominous tension filling the room, like shadows clinging to the corners, ready to pounce. I’ve been in this place too many times to count, but I’ve never felt so suffocated by the emptiness before.
Making my way down to the basement, I stop short of the door, my hand pressing to the battered wood. I take a deep breath, exhaling slowly before pushing it open.
There, in front of me, is Roman towering over a man. He doesn’t look familiar, but when my best friend notices my presence, the man’s eyes widen with fear.
“Just in time,” Roman sneers, stepping back to give me full view of the man tied to the chair.
He’s scruffy as fuck, his greasy hair flopped over his face. Sweat trickles down his temple, which is no surprise because this room is a fucking hotbox. The man is already sporting a swollen eye and some bruises to his face, which is a surprise because I was expecting Roman to already be tearing into him just for shits and giggles, but he seems restrained. Like he’s been waiting for me.
Closing the distance between myself and the man in the chair, I lean down until I’m nose to nose with him. “So you’re the fucker who touched my sister?”
He licks his lips but doesn’t say a word back, which only frustrates me. Even though he attacked my sister, Roman obviously brought him here to teach the Russians another lesson. Though I doubt the guy will be walking away from this, I’m just glad I’m involved this time.
“Answer him, Prescott!” Roman barks in his face. Anger roils off of him in waves, and I’ve never seen him filled with so much rage. I’m impressed that he’s managed to keep it contained for this long. Then again, when it comes to my sister, anything will set him off.
“Oh,” Prescott laughs deep and demonically. “I didn’t touch her.” His eyes dart between us both, but there’s something in the way he speaks that tells me he’s not done. “But I watched. I watched them go to town on your little princess, listened to her cries, her pleas?—”
I lunge forward, fist bunched as I swing it into Prescott’s face. I feel something break beneath my knuckles, but there’s no pain. Prescott, on the other hand, whimpers out from the impact, blood trickling out of his mouth.
“She’s not quite the innocent girl after all,” he jibes, his chest rumbling with amusement as he spits blood to the ground.
I rear back my hand again, but Roman stops me. There’s no way he’s staying this calm after what this fucker has said, but his eyes are telling me to cool it. We’ve got all the time in the world.
Shrugging out of his grip, I pace towards the back end of the room, leaning against the cold brick wall. I watch Roman prowl around Prescott like he’s prey, his steps lethal and posture ready for the attack.
He slides out his brass knuckles and slips them over his fingers. A sadistic smile curls my lips as he prepares to lay into Prescott. I can practically feel the excitement vibrating off of him. By the way he’s looking at me, I can tell he’s reliving every moment he spent making the other two men pay. His methods of torture are brutal and cruel, methodical and calculated. He doesn’t stop unless someone steps in, so I’m betting that every ounce of his rage will go into delivering the most amount of pain he can.
My phone vibrates in my pocket as Roman continues circling Prescott’s chair slowly. Probably calculating his first move. I pull out my phone, seeing that my sister has messaged me.
Lani: Have you seen Ro?
I frown at her message, glancing up at the man in question. He’s too busy tormenting Prescott to notice anything else, and right now, he doesn’t need any distractions.
Me: Yes, we’re at The Ravenite. Why?
Lani: No reason.
Whatever. She’s probably just worrying about him if she can’t get a hold of him. At least she knows he’s with me, and that’s all she needs to know. I pocket my phone again, observing the verbal tennis match going on.
“You know you’re a dead man,” Prescott sneers at Roman. His attempt at a threat is child’s play. When you have a family like ours, threats don’t mean shit when you’re tied to a fucking chair. Stick a gun in his hand and it might be a conversation worth having, but as it stands, Prescott has no leverage.
Roman laughs incredulously, examining the steel decorating his fingers. “We’re all dead men. Some just meet their demise sooner than others.”
Before Prescott can register the movement, Roman swings his arm forward, his fist slamming into the center of his face. His nose explodes seamlessly, blood spraying up and outward. It’s a beautiful display of premeditated chaos, the delicious sound of his nose crushing beneath a torturous force.
Prescott screams, the sound echoing around us. It rips through my ears, the excruciating sound making me wince. I’d feel sorry for the guy if he was innocent in all of this, but the asshole not only went after us, but my sister, too. And that’s unforgivable.
“All this because of your stupid girlfriend?” Prescott hisses, a stunning crimson flow cascading from his nose.
Wrong move, Prescott.
Roman yanks his head back by his hair, the fury in his words calmly filling the room. “That’s where you’re wrong. Believe it or not, she’s the only reason you’re still breathing. No, this is about you and the Russians. You think we wouldn’t find out that you’re being paid by them? We run this city, not them!”
His eyes widen, his breaths choppy. “You might as well kill me, Genovese. I don’t know anything.” His words seem certain, but his trembling voice gives him away.
Standing to his full height, Roman overshadows Prescott’s beaten figure. “That’s where you’re in luck,” he explains boredly. “You see, my girl won’t be too happy if I kill you. But I need to send a message…”
“It doesn’t matter what you do to me,” he warns. “One way or another, the Russians will take everything from you.”
They can fucking try.
Roman and I stare down at Prescott— who looks far too smug for my liking— and all I can think about is wiping that look off his face. Or destroying it.
“Thanks for the message,” Roman bites back, leaning down to curl his fist in Prescott’s shirt. With his other hand, he pulls out his knife, flicking the blade open. The metal shimmers under the light hanging defeatedly above him. It’s only a small blade, but Roman is lethal enough to do enough damage with a rusty spoon.
I shift excitedly, watching as Roman runs the blade down his temple, tracing his eye-socket with the tip. I’m itching to get involved, but I have to remind myself that this is what Roman does best. Since the Russians went after him, it’s only fair he sends the message, but I can’t help feeling left out.
“For now, I’m focusing on those who wronged me. And that includes you. What’s the saying again?” Roman slides his gaze to me and I smirk.
“I believe the saying is, an eye for an eye,” I supply.
“What?” Prescott’s eyes widen, his throat bobbing nervously. The sweat trickling down his temple is the only sign I need to know he’s realized just how fucked he is. “Wait!” he pleads as Roman repositions the knife. His eyes dart between us, and it’s then I see the true terror in his gaze.
Blood flows warm and slick between his fingers as he pierces the skin on Prescott’s face. He digs the blade into his eye socket, smiling as the squelching sound of his blade slicing through tendons becomes the melody to Prescott’s cries. The resounding pop is the crescendo, the finale to the torturous symphony.
“Well, that’s a message, for sure,” I comment as Roman drops the eyeball into Prescott’s lap. I’ve only seen him do this a few times, and every time I find myself in awe of how easy he makes it look.
“Let’s hope the Russians understand it, then,” my best friend growls.
This might be more than a message to the Federovs. I have no doubt this is about to start a war because every time they try to take us out, we push back harder. It’s a matter of skills and wills and I’m not really sure who’s going to win.
Another set of footsteps enter the room, footsteps that belong to someone I wasn’t expecting to see at all.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Roman grumbles, stepping forward and caging Lani’s face between his palms.
I force my eyes back on the passed out man, attempting to give them both a weird sense of privacy.
“We need to talk,” she says, her voice shaking.
“Not now.”
Prescott wheezes as he suddenly comes to. A cough rattles through his chest, capturing my sister’s attention. Before Roman can stop her, she’s sidestepping him and gazing down at Prescott’s bound body.
“What did you do?” she whispers, horror striking her green eyes.
“You don’t need to see this,” Roman urges her, trying to steer her away from the center of the room as I step forward to intervene.
“You said you would stay out of it!” she screams at Roman. His jaw feathers in response, but he remains calm, like she didn’t just sting him with her words.
“Lani,” he bites out. “As much as I wish this was about you, it’s not.”
Another cough and splutter from Prescott disturbs the conversation, making Alanis flinch. “Then what is it about?”
“Prescott is working for the Russians,” I interject.
A choked groan fills the room and we all spin around. “I’m not the only one,” he sneers, eyes suddenly locked on me. “You need to be more careful who you’re sticking your dick in.”
The room falls into an eerie, cryptic silence that has us all gaping at one another.
“The fuck did you just say?” I bark, stepping towards him. My fists clench subconsciously and the snarl curling my lips is animalistic. I don’t like what he’s insinuating and fucking hate that he seems to know shit about me. Despite me trying to keep my cool, I need a fucking answer. Pressing my forehead against his, I forget about the blood and sweat coating his face and focus on his one eye. “Tell me what you know, and I’ll make your death quick.”
“No,” Alanis croaks behind me. “You won’t. You’ll let him go, Varo.”
I spin around, glaring at my sister. This isn’t her place, she shouldn’t be here. My chest rises and falls harshly as I try to contain my anger. Alanis made it fucking clear where she stood when it came to the family business, and this is business.
“This fucker has information,” I growl.
Tangling his fingers with hers, Roman pulls her to him. “You need to turn around and walk back out of that door,” I tell her. “You weren’t?—”
“Get off me!” She shrugs out of his grip, snatching the knife from Roman’s hands and moving behind Prescott. She slides the blade through the binds holding him in place while I resist the urge to stop her.
Storming towards me, she drops the knife into my hand before pointing a finger at Roman. There’s so much ferocity in her glare that I’m glad I’m not on the receiving end of it—at least not directly.
“Lani—”
She barges past him, making a beeline for the door. I feel every ripple of furious energy as she stalks away from us, parting us with one final glare that speaks a thousand words.
“You better go after her,” I sigh, wrapping my fingers around the handle of the knife.
Roman seems to hesitate for a second, glancing between Prescott and me. Then he nods and sprints out of the room, his footsteps echoing as he leaves.
There’s nothing but the wheezing breaths of Prescott behind me. The sound goes straight through me, but as I turn, it stops. He peers up at me, the same terror still evident. I use the moment to lean down to his level. While Roman can command a room by towering over people, I get my kicks off getting close enough to taste their fear. And fuck can I taste Prescott’s.
“Let me make one thing clear,” I say, my voice low and filled with authority as I cut back the zip ties on his wrists. “If you go anywhere near her, or us, you won’t just lose your other eye. I will slice that tongue from your mouth so you can’t scream when I peel the skin from your fucking bones. I will make you watch as I grate off every inch of flesh, and then, I might grant you the mercy of a bullet between the eyes.” I stand up to my full height, watching the thoughts run vividly over his face. “For now, you better run and hide.”