Chapter 38
AURELIA
The pipe hits my ribs and I hear them crack.
The sound comes before the pain. A wet snap like breaking kindling. Then agony floods through my chest, stealing my breath, making black spots dance across my vision.
I don’t scream. I refuse to give them that.
The man with the pipe steps back. Waits. Watches to see if this is the hit that breaks me.
It’s not.
“Who killed Dmitri Petrov?”
I keep my mouth shut and focus on breathing through the pain. Shallow breaths because anything deeper makes the broken ribs grind together.
He nods to his partner. The other man brings water. Pours it over my head again. The cold is almost worse than the pipe. It soaks through my clothes, makes me shiver despite the pain burning through my body.
“We can do this all day,” the first man says. “Or you can tell us what we want to know and we’ll stop.”
I don’t answer.
The pipe comes down on my shoulder this time. Different pain. Sharp and immediate. My arm goes numb from elbow to fingertips.
They’re methodical about it. One hit, then wait. Let the pain settle. Let me think about whether I want more. Then they ask the question again.
Who killed Dmitri Petrov?
I never answer.
The door opens and Viktor walks in. He’s been gone for maybe an hour. I can’t track time down here with no windows, no way to know if it’s day or night outside.
“Any progress?” he asks in Russian.
The man with the pipe shakes his head. “She won’t break.”
“Everyone breaks. You’re just not trying hard enough.”
“We’ve been at this for three hours. She’s stubborn.”
Viktor crosses to where I’m tied to the chair. Grabs my chin and forces my head up so I’m looking at him. “You’re protecting Cassian Rourke,” he says in English. “We know he pulled the trigger. We just need you to confirm it.”
I spit blood at his feet.
He releases my chin. Wipes his hand on his pants like touching me contaminated him. “Your sons,” he says. “Finn and Liam. Five years old. They live at the Vance estate with tight security. But security can be breached. Children can disappear.”
Ice floods my veins despite the pain. “You won’t touch them.”
“Won’t I? You think your family can protect them forever? One mistake, one gap in coverage, and they’re gone. Just like you.”
“Julian will kill you if you go near them.”
“Perhaps. But you’ll never know because you’ll be dead long before we make our move.”
He’s bluffing. Has to be. Going after the boys would start a war the Petrovs can’t win.
But the fear still claws at my chest.
“Tell me who killed Dmitri and this ends. You go home to your sons. We get our justice. Everyone walks away.”
“I don’t know who killed him.”
“You’re lying.”
“Multiple people were shooting that night. It was chaos. I couldn’t tell who fired what.”
Viktor studies my face. Looking for cracks in the lie. Finding none. “Continue,” he tells his men. Then he leaves.
The torture starts again.
This time they use fists. Hitting areas that are already bruised. Building on damage they’ve already done. My face swells. Blood runs from my nose, my mouth, a cut above my eye that won’t stop bleeding.
Between hits, they ask the question.
Who killed Dmitri Petrov?
I think about Finn. The way he laughs when Cassian pretends to drop him during their roughhousing. The way he runs to his father without hesitation, trusting completely that he’ll be caught.
I think about Liam. The serious way he watches Cassian build things, asking careful questions, absorbing every detail like he’s memorizing it for later.
They need their father. I won’t take that from them.
The men stop hitting me. One of them cuts the ropes on my wrists and ankles. I collapse forward, can’t hold myself upright anymore.
They leave me on the concrete floor. My ribs scream with every breath. My shoulder won’t move right. Blood pools under my cheek.
The door closes. Lock turns.
I’m alone.
The silence is almost worse than the pain. Gives me too much time to think about how long this has been going on. How long I can hold out. Whether Cassian is even looking for me or if the Petrovs made sure no one knows where I am.
I close my eyes and see the park. Last weekend. All of us together. Cassian pushing Liam on the swings while Finn climbed the jungle gym. The boys laughing. Happy. Safe.
That’s what I’m protecting.
Not just Cassian, but the whole family we’ve been building. The normal life the boys finally have after years of hiding.
Footsteps outside. The lock turns again.
I force myself to sit up. Pain explodes through my ribs but I manage it. I won’t let them see me broken on the floor.
It’s two different men this time. One carries a metal chair. The other has rope. They haul me up and tie me to the new chair. My wrists are raw where the previous ropes cut into skin. The new bindings burn when they tighten them.
“Last chance,” one of them says. “Who killed Dmitri Petrov?”
“I don’t know.”
He backhands me. My head snaps to the side. More blood in my mouth.
“You know. You were there. You saw everything.”
“It was six years ago. I don’t remember.”
Another hit. This one splits my lip.
“We have all night. We have all week if we need it. You’ll tell us eventually.”
Maybe I will. Maybe there’s a breaking point I haven’t reached yet. Maybe pain will eventually override everything else and I’ll tell them just to make it stop.
But not yet.
Not while I can still see Finn’s face. Still hear Liam’s voice. Still remember Cassian saying “I love you” on the phone two nights ago like he knew he might not get another chance.
I love him too.
The realization hits clear despite the pain.
Despite everything. I love him. I love the man who tried to kidnap our sons from school.
I love the dangerous criminal who kills people without hesitation.
I love the father who sits on the floor building robots with five-year-olds who ask endless questions.
I love him and I’m not letting the Petrovs take him from our family.
The torture continues.
They’re patient. They take their time, let pain build in layers. My body is failing. Can’t take much more. Every breath hurts. Every movement sends fresh agony through broken bones and torn muscle. But my mind stays clear.
Finn and Liam need their father.
That’s all that matters.
Viktor returns hours later. I’ve lost count of how many sessions have happened. How many times they’ve asked the question. How many times I’ve refused. He looks at me and I can see the frustration. His men have been torturing me for hours and I still haven’t broken.
“You’re stronger than I expected,” he says.
I don’t respond. Can barely focus on his face anymore.
“But everyone has a limit. We just haven’t found yours yet.” He crouches down so we’re eye level. “Tell me. Is Cassian Rourke worth dying for?”
Yes.
The answer is immediate and certain.
He’s worth dying for because our sons need him. Because the family we’re building needs both of us. Because I love him even though I’ve never said it out loud.
“I don’t know who killed Dmitri,” I say again, voice hoarse from screaming.
“Then you’ll die not knowing. Because we’re moving you soon. Taking you somewhere your family will never find you. And we’ll keep asking until you tell us or until your body gives out.”
He stands. Walks to the door.
“One more session,” he tells his men. “If she still won’t talk, prepare her for transfer.”
The door closes behind him.
The men approach with the pipe again.