Chapter 27 Toma
TWENTY-SEVEN
TOMA
Three men in tactical gear I don’t recognise rush towards the guard house, frantically looking for the escaped prisoner. When they see me bleeding and on my knees, one of them talks into his earpiece, alerting Petar’s chief of security of the breach.
I wait patiently.
I won’t be able to take on Petar’s whole team and system by myself. I have to stall while Lucie and the Dobrev-Ventura coalition make their way here. It shouldn’t be long now. London is only two and a half hours away by jet.
My brother’s most predictable quality is his pride. By failing him, I make him look weak. He won’t tolerate my mistake. He’s going to make an example out of me. And be exactly where I want him. In a locked room with me.
Petar may be The Butcher of the Balkans, but he made me into The Beast. I trained harder than him.
I killed with my body while he used tools at his disposal.
I’m underfed and weaker than I used to be, but he’s too full of himself to see that we are no match.
He has nothing to fight for while I have revenge to enact. We couldn’t be more different.
A sliver of shame makes its way into my ribcage and squeezes my lungs.
It shouldn’t have taken this long to realise that I could have asked for help, that I was never as powerless as he made me think.
It took a few words from Lucie’s father, and the threat on her life to realise that Petar Kova?’s reign of terror needs to end.
And I’ll be the instrument of his downfall.
Knowing the Venturas are coming gives me extra strength. And hope.
Maybe deep down, I wanted him to turn into the brother he could have been. A protector and a friend. But he’s had his chance. He touched what is mine while I vowed to serve him until my dying breath. His word means nothing. And a man who can’t be trusted to hold his promises needs to be put down.
Finally, his booming voice announces his approach.
“You good-for-nothing piece of shit!” His fist collides with my broken nose and I grunt out in pain. “You let her escape.”
His anger rains down on me. I protect myself best as I can, knowing full well I can’t retaliate now while half a dozen of his men watch.
While he thinks I’m his obedient dog. Petar kicks my ribs, my thighs while I bunch myself into a ball and hide my skull from his boots and fists.
Spittle flies out of his mouth as he continues his assault, both physical and verbal. Nothing registers.
I couldn’t care less about the names he calls me, about the hate spewing from his mouth and the blow of his hands.
There was a time when his violence made me terribly sad.
The little boy inside me has been hurt one too many times, and is now resigned to never knowing what it’s like to have a brother.
Through all the pain, it’s Lucie’s face I see.
Clear and perfect for the first time in weeks.
How she smiled softly at me like I made her life easier, like she wanted me to stay.
And for her, I’d take it all over again.
I’d live through years of abuse just to see her one more time, and make sure she’s safe.
I was a fool. The words I said to her have shame coating my entire being. My brother must think I’m at my breaking point. He stops his assault.
“Take him to the chamber,” he tells two men who catch me under the arms and drag me towards the basement. A cold sweat rises on my skin, my body’s response automatic after days of the same terror being inflicted on me and broadcasted for all to see.
I pray he’s not going to restrain me. I whine, exaggerating the sound. His men chuckle cruelly and drop me into the cold room. And unfortunately for me, they shackle my feet to metal chains attached to the concrete floor. My hands remain unbound. It will have to be enough.
And I’m not naked. Another silver lining. I hate being naked now.
That will be the end of my brother.
I refrain from touching the metal piece I hid under my tactical long-sleeve shirt.
“Don’t interrupt me,” Petar orders, and his head of security nods before locking us into the chamber.
My eyes have started to swell; it’s hard to distinguish the rows of weapons on the walls. I must be in a different room from my usual one.
Petar doesn’t waste any time. He marches to my left and lifts a knife from the display. The metal glints in the harsh overhead light. I swallow hard, but I fear the knives less than the cold water and electric therapy he’s used for me so far.
I have to be smarter than him. I am smarter than him.
Petar stands in front of me, his legs spread and chest heaving with the force of his anger. And all I can summon is pity.
We look so much alike, yet we took wildly different directions in life.
The same brown hair on his skull, the same brown eyes looking at me like I’m nothing.
His tree-trunk legs and massive chest have been honed into a weapon by our father.
Just like he did to me. I’m the one they called a beast, but the wild animal between the two of us is in front of me, poised to destroy me.
“I should have known you came back for a reason.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I rasp, shifting with a grimace. The bastard must have broken a rib or two, and my nose pulses, the flow of blood out and onto my lips constant and bitter. It’s hard to move and breathe.
He growls, but doesn’t attack.
The longer I keep him in here, the better my chances of ending him. I have to believe my girl is taking care of everyone else inside that house. My brother’s life is mine to take.
I frown when he still doesn’t make a move. It’s the wrong thing to do. It betrays my thoughts, how I long for him to attack me in anger. Emotions make him sloppy.
Petar smirks, lifting the tip of the knife in my direction. “I’m going to take my time. Wait until that ragged breathing evens out, then strike.”
I laugh, mockingly. “Of course you would. You’re scared of me!”
“You’ll pay for your insolence.”
He’s too fast and I’m unprepared. The knife spears my left shoulder as he launches it in a perfect throw.
“Fuck!”
Pain radiates into my arms, nerves firing.
I’m blinded by it as a second knife embeds itself into my other shoulder.
I keep my lips shut together, but can’t hold the half groan of pure agony.
Tears spring from my eyes. I’m heaving. Blood coats the front of my shirt, but I refuse to die at the hands of this monster.
“How long do you think it will take to bleed you to death? How many knives?”
“You’re a coward,” I croak in response. “Hiding behind your knives. Behind the hose and the cattle prod. Even weakened like this, I can take you.”
I punch him in the kidney with weak fists and he steps back, out of reach.
He laughs, the cruel and sinister sound echoing in the sterile chamber.
Months ago, I’d have felt fear, but now, rage is still running in my system.
The only fear I ever feel anymore is for Lucie’s safety, and I have to believe she’s okay.
My brother truly is the coward I called him.
I can see it in the shift of his gait, the way his fist clenches around the handle of the next knife he wants to throw at me.
I’m not cowering, my girl isn’t dead, and Diane escaped. He has no power. I might be the one in chains, but he’s the true prisoner.
He slowly prowls towards me and I don’t hesitate.
I launch myself at him, using my kneeling position to jump at his waist and take him down. His head hits the concrete floor and the knife clatters to the floor, too far fro him to reach.
I climb on top of him. My arms are weak, the injuries I’ve withstood too intense for me to do any real damage to his face as I punch him. I go for the nose. That shit hurts like a bitch.
I would know.
Petar howls as a sickening crunch reaches my ears. Blood spurts from his nostrils, and my knuckles turn red. The colour feeds my hate, my need to annihilate him.
“You thought you could touch what’s mine,” I seethe.
But Petar still has most of his strength. Adrenaline in my system isn’t enough. From somewhere on his thigh, he unholsters another blade, the metal entering the soft skin in between my ribs. I cry out.
It’s not deep enough to reach any organ but it stuns me.
He uses my pain to his advantage and pushes me away, crawling towards the safe circle where I can’t reach him.
I pull on his ankle. Keep him close.
The handle of the small knife on my side is warm. I pull on it with a shout, liquid sluicing down my side. I know what removing the knife embedded here means for me. I make peace with it and slash his Achilles. One. Then, the other.
My brother glances over his shoulder at me. I lick the knife, his blood, tainting my teeth with it. He’s all for theatrics after all. His eyes widen with fear and I revel in it.
The bastard is as determined to come out on top as I am.
Survival kicks in fast when you’re faced with death.
Despite the horrible injuries I just inflicted on him, he lifts a foot and kicks me in the chin with it.
I’m still attached to the floor and weighted by the heavy chains while his movements are free.
Yet, I can’t let him escape me.
He crawls, a low moan of pain escaping him. Since he killed our father a few years ago, he’s not been used to being beaten by anyone. He never allowed it. He’s grown complacent.
Groggy and weakening, I pull on the heavy metal and wrap it around his thick neck. He flails underneath me as I straddle his back.
My muscles tremble. I clench my teeth to the point of pain. It radiates into my skull. But I can’t let him live. Everything inside me seizes. Yet I don’t let go. Even when he tries to turn around, to put his fingers between the chain and his skin. This is what he trained me for.
“You made me into a weapon.”
“You never deserved to live.”
“I could have loved you.” A single tear escapes the corner of my eye and leaves a clean path as it falls on my bloodied cheek. “But it’s okay. I love someone else. And she’s coming for me. You’ll burn with the rest of this damn house.”
He roars. But it’s useless. I don’t let my grip falter.
I pull harder on the chain.
He chokes. Sputters.
I use all my strength. I hold my breath.
After what feels like hours, I feel it and release a long, laboured exhale. Petar slumps onto the floor. I let go. I drop the chains and fall onto my back.
Hazel eyes at the back of my eyelids. White light. A warm touch. Her voice.
A small smile spreads on my lips before a kaleidoscope of colours takes over my vision and blackness pulls me under.