Chapter 16 Mikhail
MIKHAIL
Time stops.
Adrian’s finger tightens on the trigger, the gun pressed against Sophia’s temple, and I watch my entire world narrow to that single point of contact.
Her blue eyes find mine across the warehouse, and I see everything in them—fear, love, and forgiveness for failing her.
Click.
The sound echoes through the warehouse like a death knell, but no explosion follows.
No blood.
No body crumpling to the concrete.
Adrian’s face contorts with confusion.
He pulls the trigger again.
Click.
Nothing.
A third time, his hand shaking now with rage.
Click.
Empty. The gun is empty.
Relief and fury explode through my chest with such force I can barely breathe.
My legs are moving before my brain catches up, closing the distance between us as Sophia twists in Adrian’s grip.
She’s magnificent in her rage, all claws and teeth as she drives her elbow into his ribs with a satisfying crack.
Adrian stumbles back, and Sophia breaks free, scrambling away from him.
Our eyes meet for a split second, and I see the warrior she’s become, a woman forged in fire and blood.
“Get Melinda out!” I roar at Marco, who’s already moving toward the bound woman in the corner.
Adrian recovers faster than I expect, pulling a knife from his belt.
The blade gleams under the harsh warehouse lights as he lunges at me.
I sidestep, my own knife appearing in my hand like an old friend. We’ve done this dance before, Adrian and I.
Years ago, when I gave him that scar across his throat.
This time, I’ll finish what I started.
“You should have killed me when you had the chance,” Adrian snarls, circling me like a predator.
Blood seeps from where Sophia’s head connected with his nose, staining his expensive suit.
“I’m correcting that mistake now.” My voice is cold, empty of everything except the promise of death.
In my peripheral vision, Sophia rushes to Melinda’s chair.
Her hands work frantically at the ropes binding her friend, and I force myself not to look directly at her.
I can’t afford the distraction.
Not now.
We clash in a fury of steel and violence.
His blade slices across my forearm, and I feel the hot sting of torn flesh. I ignore it, driving my knife toward his ribs.
He blocks, but not fast enough.
The tip catches his side, drawing a line of crimson through the expensive fabric.
“You’re getting slow,” I taunt, circling him.
My shoulder throbs where the bullet wound is still raw and healing, but adrenaline drowns out the pain.
“And you’re distracted.” Adrian’s eyes flick toward Sophia, who’s helping Marco cut Melinda free.
I feint left then strike right. My blade opens a gash across his chest, and he staggers back with a grunt.
He laughs, the sound wet and ragged. “We’re the same, you and I. Monsters pretending to be men. The only difference is I’m honest about what I am.”
“We’re nothing alike.” I press my advantage, driving him back toward the rusted machinery. “I protect what’s mine. You destroy everything you touch.”
“I destroyed your sister.” The words are designed to wound, to make me lose control. “She begged, you know. Begged for them to stop. Begged for you to save her.”
White-hot rage floods my vision, but I force it down. He wants me angry, wants me sloppy. I won’t give him the satisfaction.
My men stand in a loose circle around us, weapons ready but not interfering.
They know this fight is mine.
They know some debts can only be paid in blood, one on one.
Adrian lunges again, and this time I’m ready.
I catch his wrist and twist, feeling bones grind together.
He drops the knife with a howl of pain, and I drive my fist into his face.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
His head snaps back with each impact, blood spraying from his nose and split lip.
He goes down hard, and I’m on him immediately.
My knife presses against his throat, right over the old scar I gave him.
It would be so easy to finish this now. One quick slice, and Adrian Morello bleeds out on this dirty warehouse floor.
“Why are you gloating?” I demand, pressing the blade harder. A thin line of blood appears. “You’re ten seconds away from death, so why do you look like the fucking cat that ate the mouse?
Adrian laughs, the sound wet and bubbling. “You really don’t know, do you? All this time, all this revenge, and you never figured it out.”
“Figured what out?”
“You didn’t get all the men involved with your sister’s rape.” He chuckles, then stops when my knife presses further into his skin. “Even if you kill me, there’s still one more.”
“Tell me his name.” My hand is steady, but inside I’m screaming. I need to know. Need to make sure every single person who touched my sister pays for what they did.
“Why should I?” Adrian’s dark eyes glitter with malice. “You’re going to kill me anyway.”
“Because if you tell me, I’ll make it quick.” I lean closer, my voice dropping to a whisper. “If you don’t, I’ll make it last for days. I’ll keep you alive and screaming until you beg me for death.”
Something flickers in his expression. Fear, maybe. Or calculation. “He’s someone close to you. Someone you trust.”
My blood runs cold. “A name, Adrian.”
“Mikhail.” Sophia’s voice cuts through the tension. I glance over to see her supporting Melinda, who can barely stand. Marco hovers nearby, ready to help. “We need to get her to a hospital.”
She’s right. Melinda needs medical attention, and we’re exposed here. But I can’t let Adrian take this information to his grave.
I return my attention to Adrian. “Tell me the name, or I start cutting pieces off.”
Adrian spits blood at my feet. “You think you’re so righteous. So justified in your revenge. But you’re just like me, Artyomov. Just another monster in an expensive suit.”
“I never claimed to be anything else.” I shift my weight, pressing my knee into his chest. “The name.”
“He’s high rank. Someone in your organization.” Adrian’s smile is grotesque, his teeth stained red. “Someone who’s been playing you for years.”
My mind races through possibilities. High rank. Someone I trust. The list is short, and each name on it makes my stomach turn. “Stop playing games.”
“It’s not a game.” Adrian coughs, more blood bubbling from his lips. “It’s the truth. And it’s going to destroy you when you find out.”
I press the knife harder, and he gasps. “Last chance.”
“You want a name?” Adrian’s voice is getting weaker. “Fine. But knowing won’t help you. He’s already won.”
“Who?” The word comes out as a roar.
Adrian opens his mouth to answer, but instead of words, more blood pours out.
He’s stalling, trying to buy time for something.
Or maybe he’s just enjoying watching me suffer, knowing I’m so close to the truth but can’t quite reach it.
I’ve had enough.
I spin him around to face me and my fist connects with his jaw, and I feel something crack.
He tries to curl into a ball, but I haul him up by his collar and slam him against a support pillar.
The impact echoes through the warehouse.
“Talk!” I hit him again, and again, each blow punctuated by my rage. “Give me the name!”
“He’s…” Adrian’s words are slurred now, barely intelligible. “He’s been there…all along…”
“Where? Who?” I shake him, his head lolling like a broken doll.
“So close…” Adrian’s eyes are starting to glaze over. “You’ll never…see it coming…”
I drop him and grab my knife again.
Maybe pain will loosen his tongue.
I press the blade against his hand, right where his fingers meet his palm. “I’m going to start removing parts. We’ll see how long you last.”
The knife bites into flesh, and Adrian screams. The sound is music to my ears, a symphony of suffering that still doesn’t come close to matching what Nicole endured. I twist the blade, and he screams again.
“The name!” I demand.
“Fuck…you.” Adrian gasps between screams.
I move the knife to his other hand.
Then to his arms.
Each cut is precise, calculated to cause maximum pain without killing him too quickly.
Blood pools on the concrete beneath us, spreading in a dark stain that reflects the warehouse lights.
Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I hear Sophia gasp and Marco tell her to look away.
A quick glance at her tells me she’s not going to look elsewhere while I torture Adrian.
Somehow, I knew she wouldn’t.
Adrian’s screams turn to whimpers, then to barely audible moans. He’s fading fast, going into shock.
I need to finish this before he passes out completely.
“Last chance,” I say, my voice eerily calm despite the violence I’ve just inflicted. “Give me the name, and I end this now.”
Adrian’s eyes focus on me one last time.
His lips move, forming words I can barely hear.
I lean closer, straining to catch them.
“Who?” I grab his face, forcing him to look at me. “Say the name!”
But Adrian’s eyes are rolling back, his breathing becoming shallow and rapid.
He’s dying, and he’s going to take the secret with him.
Rage explodes through me, white-hot and all-consuming. After everything, after all this pain and blood and suffering, I’m still no closer to the truth.
Still no closer to making everyone pay for what they did to Nicole.
My hands find Adrian’s throat, and I squeeze.
His eyes widen, some primal survival instinct kicking in even as his body fails.
He tries to fight, his hands weakly clawing at my wrists, but he’s too far gone.
“You should have talked,” I whisper, watching the life drain from his eyes.
Adrian’s struggles grow weaker.
His face turns purple, then blue.
His eyes bulge, blood vessels bursting in the whites.
And still I squeeze, pouring every ounce of my hatred and grief and rage into my hands.
Finally, his body goes limp.
His eyes stare at nothing, empty and dead.
I hold on for another minute, making sure.
Making absolutely certain that Adrian Morello will never hurt anyone I care about again.
Then I release him, and his body slumps to the floor like a discarded puppet.
I stand over him, my chest heaving, my hands covered in his blood.
The warehouse is silent except for my ragged breathing and the steady drip of water.
Somewhere in the distance, a siren wails.
Adrian Morello is dead.