Chapter 7 #2
I nod and let him lead me downstairs. When we pass through the kitchen, he sets my mug in the sink, and I’m happy to see that the redhead is nowhere to be seen.
Vasily gently squeezes my hand, and before he opens the front door, he looks down at me and says, “Remember, zolotse, you are safe with me.”
“I know,” I tell him, trusting him to keep me safe. I don’t know what I’m expecting when he opens the front door, but the large crowd of men isn’t it. My knees immediately lock up and my throat goes dry. “Vasya,” I whisper, digging my fingers into his.
He leans down and whispers in my ear, “I’m right here, sweetheart. I need you to be brave for me for just a few minutes and then it will be over. Can you do that?”
I nod, but I don’t loosen my grip on his hand.
I can do this, I tell myself. I can face the man who hurt me as long as Vasily is by my side.
I don’t want to embarrass him in front of his Bratva, and that helps me get control of myself.
He kisses my forehead and wraps his free arm around my shoulders, pulling me tightly against him.
I feel a little better when Ruslan runs over to join us.
He gives my hand a quick lick but then his whole demeanor changes when Vasily says a single word in Russian.
He stays by Vasily’s side, every part of him on high alert.
When he yells something in Russian, all the men line up in two rows, one behind the other.
There must be at least fifty men, and all of them stare at us while Andrei and Ilya get into position on either end of the lines.
Gone are the laughing faces from last night.
Both men look serious as hell, and I notice they’re both armed with handguns tucked into their jeans.
Vasily gives my shoulder a squeeze and walks forward with me so he doesn’t have to yell for them to hear him.
He switches to English for my benefit and says, “This is my wife, Nina. As I’m sure you’ve already heard, she was kept against her will at Ruby’s Lounge.
I just learned last night that one of the men who raped her spoke Russian to her. ”
My face heats up, but Vasily brings his hand to the nape of my neck, gently stroking my skin, calming me and making me feel safe.
The men in front of us are different in so many ways, some are blond, some have dark hair, some are in suits, and others are in jeans and T-shirts, but all of them are in great physical shape and hold themselves in a way that speaks of military training, which I guess makes sense.
They’re men who are used to danger and violence and know their way around a variety of weapons.
Trained killers, every damn one of them.
“Let me make this very clear,” Vasily says.
“This is my wife, and she has my full protection.” He gently reaches down and pulls the sleeve of my shirt up, revealing my tattoo.
I see a few of the men’s eyes widen when they see it.
I scan the line of men in front of me, grateful that none of them look familiar.
Vasily switches to Russian and yells something that has a few of the men visibly paling.
Leaning closer so only I can hear him, he says, “I need you to tell me if any of them look familiar, zolotse.”
I grip his hand with both of mine and walk with him along the first line of men.
Running my eyes over each of them, I prepare myself for the face that still haunts me at night, but I don’t see him.
After the first row, Vasily says something in Russian, and they walk a few feet to the right, creating a wider distance between themselves and the row behind them.
When we start down this row, I feel dread start to puddle in my stomach, making me fear I’m going to get sick again.
Vasily squeezes my hand and lightly strokes my neck, reminding me that he’s right here with me.
When we get about halfway down the row, I meet the eyes of the man who raped me. They’re not as empty as they were when he held me down and forced his way inside me. They’re filled with fear now, but it’s because it’s his ass on the line this time.
“Vasya,” I whisper, hating how shaky my voice sounds.
“Him?” Vasya asks, pointing at the man in front of me.
“Yes, it was him. I’m sure.”
Vasily gently pulls me back so I’m nowhere near that asshole and says something to Ilya and Andrei. Both men run over and stand next to the man I identified while the rest of the men go to join the others who are waiting and watching.
The man speaks in rapid Russian, clearly pleading for Vasily to understand. Finally, he yells in English, “You hadn’t even married her yet! I didn’t rape your wife. This isn’t fair, Vasily!”
“It’s Mr. Medvedev to you, you sick fuck, and we may not have been married at the time, but you still raped her, and I can’t allow that to go unpunished.”
Vasily ignores the man who’s now speaking Russian again and turns his full attention to me. “I’m so proud of you, baby. You did so good.” He cups my face and kisses my forehead. “I need you to go inside now so I can take care of this.”
I don’t want to leave his side, but I’m not sure I want to see what’s about to happen either. Knowing I’d rather go in than risk embarrassing myself by vomiting in front of him yet again, I say, “Okay,” and cut my eyes one last time to the man who’s about to die.
“Please,” he begs me in English. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I thought you were a prostitute."
“Igor, shut the fuck up,” Vasily barks at him.
“Igor,” I say, trying my best to mimic the pronunciation. “You’re begging me just like I begged you. Do you remember that? Do you remember how much I begged you to stop? You ignored me just like I’m going to ignore you.”
I give Vasily a small smile to let him know I’m okay and then I squeeze his hand before letting go and walking back to the house, refusing to give Igor the satisfaction of looking back.
I hear Vasily give another single-word command to Ruslan who joins me seconds later.
Once I’m inside, I can’t resist running upstairs to one of the bedrooms that overlooks the front.
I peek out, hiding behind the curtains so no one can see me while Ruslan wags his tail and I hope like hell his big head doesn’t give me away.
Vasily is easy to spot because he’s taller than everyone else and his broad shoulders are impossible to miss.
I watch in morbid fascination as Andrei and Ilya each grab onto Igor, making it impossible for him to move.
Vasily calmly pulls a knife from his back pocket and opens it, revealing a very sharp-looking blade that would have me pissing myself if I were on the receiving end of it.
“Oh my god,” I whisper when Vasily grabs Igor’s arm, holding it taut as he presses the blade against his skin.
Andrei clamps a hand tightly over Igor’s mouth as Vasily digs into the flesh and then draws the blade sharply down his arm.
Igor’s muffled screams fill the air as his knees buckle.
It’s only Andrei and Ilya holding him up as Vasily holds the skinned tattoo up for everyone to see.
Blood gushes from Igor’s arm, puddling at his feet.
My own knees buckle when I look at the bloody, deep gash on his arm and then take in Vasily’s hardened face.
This is my husband, I think. The sweet man who holds me at night and loves to run his fingers through my hair is now holding up a piece of tattooed skin while blood drips down his arm.
I fall to the floor, knowing I can’t handle seeing any more.
My own arm aches where the tattoo covers it, unable to even imagine how painful it would be to have it sliced from my body.
I’m not sure how long I sit there mindlessly running my fingers through Ruslan’s thick fur before Vasily finds me.
As soon as he sees me crouched beneath the window, he sighs and scrubs a hand over his stubbled jaw.
He must’ve stopped to clean up because he’s in a different shirt and I don’t see any blood.
“What all did you see, zolotse?”
When I don’t answer, he pats Ruslan’s head and then gently picks me up, carrying me back into our room.
He keeps walking, taking me out onto the balcony and sitting in one of the chairs with me on his lap.
I watch as some of his men walk down to the boathouse.
Two of them are hauling a large cooler between them, and it suddenly hits me.
“That’s him, isn’t it?” I whisper, unable to take my eyes off the red-and-white cooler.
“It is,” he admits.
When I hear the boat’s motor rev up, I ask, “They’re going to dump him?”
“They are.”
His voice is calm, but I can tell he’s feeling me out, making sure I’m not going to lose it and trying to decide how much I can handle.
“Why did you skin the tattoo off?”
“The tattoo is an honor, and he no longer deserved it, zolotse. It’s as simple as that. Did you watch me kill him?”
“No. I couldn’t stomach it, which I guess makes me a coward. He’s dead because of me, and I couldn’t even bear to watch it.”
“I’m glad you didn’t watch it, and you’re not even close to being a coward.” His large hand rests on my thigh, softly stroking me with his thumb as he says, “I don’t want you to think of me as a monster, but the truth is I am one.”
I turn my head to study the face that’s so close to mine. His stubble is thicker since he hasn’t shaved in a few days, and his eyes are just as crystal blue as ever. His dark hair is short but long enough to blow a bit in the breeze, and I can’t resist running my hand through it.
“You’re not a monster, Vasya.”
“Yes, I am. I’m just not one with you. That doesn’t mean I don’t have dark thoughts about you, though.”
Confused, I ask, “What dark thoughts?”