Chapter 31
Alexei
The old textile warehouse sits on the edge of the industrial district, a hollowed-out carcass of brick and broken glass that has been abandoned for years.
Graffiti crawls across the salt-stained walls, and the silence of the place makes it a perfect stage for an ambush.
I arrive an hour early to position my men, tucking snipers onto the rusted roof and nesting teams inside the shadows of the main floor while another four vehicles circle the perimeter.
As the sun sets, a black SUV crunches over the gravel and pulls to a halt. Tornike steps out, a broad-shouldered silhouette against already darkened clouds, flanked by two armed men who scan the rafters for the very traps I’ve already set.
“Mr. Makharadze,” I call out from the darkness of the entrance. “Right on time.”
“Where is my family?” he demands, his voice tight.
“Safe. Where is the information I asked for?”
“I don’t have any information. I came to negotiate their release.”
I tilt my head, the coldness settling into my bones. “Wrong fucking answer.”
I give Bohdan the nod, and he steps out from behind a rusted van with his rifle raised.
Tornike’s hand flies to his holster, but the world explodes before he can clear leather.
My snipers fire in a single, synchronized heartbeat, and both of Tornike’s guards drop into the dirt.
Tornike manages to squeeze off one desperate shot that pings harmlessly against the warehouse steel before Paul tackles him from behind, driving him into the concrete.
They wrestle him down and jerk his hands back into zip-ties. “Search him,” I command.
Paul strips him of a knife, a backup piece, and a burner phone. I snatch the device and check the logs; he placed a call to Dato only three minutes ago.
“You called him,” I say, showing him the screen. “I told him where we were meeting.”
“Fuck you.”
“How many men is he sending?”
Tornike’s only response is to spit at my boots. “Bohdan. Get him in the van. We’re leaving. Now.”
As they drag him away, I look at the two cooling bodies by the SUV. “Dump them where Dato is sure to find them.”
The drive back to the holding site is filled with Tornike’s frantic promises of our impending deaths, but I tune him out until we reach the interrogation room.
Inside, the air is thick with the copper tang of blood and the sour stench of infection.
Salome is still bolted to her chair, her broken foot now a grotesque, swollen mess of purple and black that no one has bothered to clean.
In the corner, Davit remains hunched over, his eyes vacant.
When Tornike sees the state of his wife, he loses what little composure he has left. “Salome! What did they do to you?” He lunges against his restraints, turning his wild eyes on me. “You fucking monster! She’s just a woman! She has no business in this!”
I let a small, sharp smile touch my lips. “Oh, come on now. She was just playing a game - kicking a ball around. I have no idea how she hurt herself. Maybe she’s just clumsy as shit.”
Salome spits at me, the spray hitting my cheek. I wipe it away slowly, the insult barely registering.
“You monster,” she hisses. “How could you do this to a mother and child?”
I actually laugh at that, glancing toward Oksana and Nadia.
“Get a load of this. She’s calling me a monster.
In case you haven’t noticed, lady, I don’t give a fuck.
I played my part. I had a peaceful honeymoon planned until your boss sent five cocksuckers to rape my wife and gut me on a beach in Portugal.
So you’ll excuse me if I’m not feeling particularly charitable. ”
I crouch down to Tornike’s level, but he chooses that moment to spit directly into my face. I stand up slowly, cleaning the moisture from my skin. “You know what? I can tolerate that whore of a wife spitting on me. She’s scared. She’s in pain. I get it. But you? I draw the fucking line at you.”
I backhand him across the face, hard. His head snaps to the side, and then I hit him again on the other side until blood sprays from his mouth.
“You think you can spit on me? You think you have that right?” I grab his face and force him to look at me.
“The only reason you’re still alive is that I haven’t decided how I want you to stop breathing yet. ”
I let him go. His head lolls forward until his chin hits his chest, his body sagging from the beating.
“Bohdan,” I say. “Bolt this piece of shit to that chair. Let’s get this party started.”
They drag him over and force him into the metal chair, the bolts screeching against the concrete floor. They zip-tie his hands behind his back until the plastic bites into his skin, and I nod to Oksana.
“Bring the fucking tools.”
She brings out the bolt cutters, a blender, and a glass. Salome starts screaming before we even touch him. “No! Please! Tornike, just tell them what they want! Please!”
“I don’t know anything!” Tornike shouts, blood running down his chin and dripping onto his shirt. “I swear to God, I don’t know!”
“Well then,” I say, picking up the bolt cutters. “This is going to be a long fucking day for you, isn’t it?”
I nod to Oksana. She grabs his hand and pulls it flat against the table bolted to his chair.
“Who is backing Dato?”
“I don’t know!”
“Wrong fucking answer.”
Oksana positions the cutters around his index finger. “Last chance, you Georgian piece of shit. Who is helping Dato?”
“I don’t know his name! I swear! Dato never told me!”
“Then I guess we’re doing this the hard way. Oksana, take it.”
She cuts. The finger comes off clean and blood spurts everywhere, painting the table and Oksana’s boots. Tornike screams, the sound bouncing off the concrete walls.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I say. “We haven’t even gotten to the good part yet, and you’re already screaming like a little bitch.”
Davit doesn’t make a sound. He just sits there in his corner with his knees to his chest, watching the blood. Oksana picks up the severed finger. “What should I do with this, Pakhan?”
“Blend that fucker. Let’s see if the wife’s thirsty.”
She drops it in the blender, adds water, and turns it on. The grinding sound fills the room.
“You’re insane! You’re fucking insane!” Tornike screams.
“Yeah, no shit,” I say. “What gave it away? Was it the torture chamber or the blender?”
When the finger is liquefied, Oksana pours the pink slurry into a glass and brings it to Salome. “Drink up, sweetheart. Drink, or we take another fucking finger from your husband.”
“No!” Salome thrashes. “No! I won’t!”
“Wrong answer. Oksana, number two.”
She goes back to Tornike and positions the cutters around his middle finger.
“Wait!” Salome screams. “Wait! Please!”
“Drink.”
She shakes her head, sobbing. “I can’t... please, I can’t do it!”
“Your call.” I shrug. “Oksana, chop that shit off.”
The second finger comes off. Tornike’s screams get louder and more desperate.
“Jesus Christ,” I say. “You’d think he’s never lost a finger before. So fucking dramatic.”
The second finger goes into the blender, followed by another glass of pink liquid that Oksana brings to Salome while Nadia grabs her head, forcing her mouth open and tilting it back.
Salome fights, but Nadia is stronger, holding her while Oksana pours the mixture down her throat until she’s gagging and choking on the slurry.
The moment Nadia lets go, Salome lurches forward and vomits onto the concrete.
“There we go,” I say. “Much better. Nothing like a good protein shake, right?”
Salome is dry heaving, her whole body shaking. “Please... please, no more. Tornike, just tell them!”
“I don’t know!” Tornike’s voice is weak now, his face turning grey. “I swear to God, I don’t know who’s backing Dato!”
“Oh, you swear to God? Well, shit, why didn’t you say so earlier? That changes everything.” I look at Oksana. “Pack it up. He swears to God. We’re done here.”
I wait a beat.
“Just kidding. Keep going.”
“Please, I only know of someone, but not a name.”
“Oh,” I perk up. “So you know someone.”
“Yes! Yes! Someone powerful! Someone with money and weapons and connections! But I don’t know his name - I’ve never met him! Dato keeps him hidden!”
“And that’s supposed to be fucking good enough for me?”
“It’s all I have!”
I sigh and look at Oksana. “Keep going. I want to see if she can handle the whole hand. You know, like fisting, but way less fun for everyone involved.”
“No!” Salome screams. “Please! He told you everything he knows!”
I just smile at her. “Maybe. But I’m having too much fun to stop now.”
The third finger comes off without a signal, and Tornike’s scream is weaker as he starts to fade. I walk over and slap his face lightly. “Come on, buddy. Stay with me. We’ve still got two more to go.”
Into the blender, followed by the sound of the blades and the pour, another glass of pink liquid is brought to Salome. She doesn't even fight this time when Nadia holds her head. She just drinks, vomits, and cries.
“You’re getting really good at this,” I tell her. “Practice makes perfect. Keep this up, and you’ll be a pro at taking things down your throat. Your husband would be proud.”
The fourth finger follows, and then the thumb.
“Last one! Home stretch, folks,” I say as the thumb goes into the blender.
Salome drinks it down and passes out in her own filth, her body finally going limp against the restraints.
I look at Tornike’s hand - it’s just a bloody stump now, dripping rhythmically onto the concrete.
“So, who is backing Dato?”
“I don’t... know his name...” he whispers. “Someone... powerful... Dato respects him... That’s all... I swear...”
I study his face. “He’s telling the truth.”
“Which means,” I say, watching the relief flood his face for a split second, “that you’re completely fucking worthless to me.”
The relief disappears. I walk over to the corner where Davit is sitting. He looks up at me with wide eyes, and I give him a smile.
“Hello, Davit. Do you like games?”
He nods slowly. I hold out my hand. “Good. I have a really fun game for you. Come with me.”