Chapter 23
Alexei
I’ve spent the last two weeks taking care of Kelly while he’s been struggling with his concussion. It hit harder than the doctors said it would, leaving him emotional and irritable, sleeping too much. I called the doctors multiple times, and they keep saying it’s normal, that it takes time.
He got irritated with me this morning, told me to get out of the house because I was hovering. Works for me. Gives me time to handle the problems he doesn’t know about.
David sent a threatening text to Kelly while he was sleeping on the couch. I deleted it before he saw it, but this fucking piece of shit needs to die. I’ve been patient enough. This ends now.
Then there’s Gary, who won’t stop harassing him about returning to work, calling every day like Kelly’s faking a brain injury for vacation time. The stress is slowing his recovery when he should be resting. Time to eliminate both problems.
I walk toward his house. Three stories of typical suburban bullshit. No security system visible and no cameras. Sloppy work that makes this easier for me.
I move around the side and hop the fence into the backyard. Still no cameras or motion lights. Gary doesn’t believe in protecting himself, which works perfectly in my favor. The second floor has a light on, one window glowing through the trees. It’s past midnight, but the bastard’s still awake.
I spot the balcony, and it’s not too high; I can make it up without equipment. Gripping the stone edge, I climb up and haul myself over without making a sound. The balcony door handle turns easily. Unlocked.
Gary fucking Miller doesn’t believe in basic security. Perfect for what I need to do.
I need to be careful not to wake his wife.
Moving through the house, I hear movement downstairs and start down the staircase one step at a time.
Light from the refrigerator glows in the kitchen, then disappears as someone closes the door.
I pull out my gun and click the safety off.
The giant man with gray hair turns around at the sound with his mouth full, holding a cookie he just bit into.
He gasps and starts backing up, then stops suddenly and grabs his throat, making choking sounds.
I stop and watch him drop to his knees, still gripping his throat.
“Heee,” he tries to say, grabbing at his neck again while his face turns red.
“Help,” comes out as a wheeze, and he tries to cough but nothing happens. I walk over to the counter and lean against it, watching with a grin while he chokes on a fucking cookie. I was prepared to stage a fall down the stairs. This works better.
When his body finally slumps forward, I step over him, grab a cookie off the tray and eat it on my way out.
The house that Kelly used to live in with David Collins looks smaller than I expected.
I wonder how many times David hurt Kelly inside these walls.
How many times he promised he would change and wouldn’t hurt him anymore.
Only to break that promise the next day and hurt him again.
I’ve gotten more details over the past two weeks, and I’m not going to make it a quick death for this asshole.
Mendez is tied and gagged in the back of our car currently.
“Are we going to do this, or are we just going to sit here all night?” Mikhail asks with a sigh.
“Let me go in first, and I’ll text you when to bring in the other asshole.”
“Whatever.” He pulls out his phone and plays some game.
I step into the freezing night air.
The neck gaiter and hoodie go on, then I move along the side of the house toward the back. Daniil said there were cameras and a security system—this one needs care.
A camera sits mounted beside the back door. Spray paint comes out, the can rattles once, and the lens disappears under black.
At the lock, I crouch and work it until it clicks.
The door opens a few inches before the security chain catches.
I slip inside as far as it allows and disable it fast, no alarms triggered.
The security panel is already waiting; the code goes in, the system dies, and the door closes behind me without a sound.
The place reeks. Trash litters the floor, beer bottles everywhere, the air thick and musty. Broken glass crunches underfoot as I move through the kitchen and into the living room. Nothing. No movement.
Light flickers from a television in the back room. I stop, scan, then turn toward the stairs and take the first step up.
A sound freezes me mid-step. A baseball bat swings into view. I duck and it smashes into the wall behind me with a sharp crack.
“What the hell,” he screams, and the stench of alcohol hits my face immediately.
I kick him in the stomach, and he falls onto the floor. He tries to get back on his feet, but I stomp on his hand. I pull down my neck gaiter so he can see my face.
“Time to die, David.”
I pick up the bat and hit him over the head before he can answer me. He groans, so I hit him again harder until he passes out.
I send a quick text to Mikhail to get his ass in here. Then crouch and pull out plastic zip ties to secure his hands behind his back. I run upstairs to make sure the house is clear. When I return, Mikhail’s dragging a bleeding Mendez inside.
“What now?” Mikhail asks.
“The houses in this neighborhood are too close together. We should move them to the basement.”
I grab David by his shirt, dragging his unconscious body toward the basement door. I curse when I see the steep stairs. There’s no way I’m carrying his dead weight down there.
I grip him by his shirt, position him at the top of the stairs, and throw him down.
“He slipped.” I shrug.
Mikhail scoffs and pushes Mendez down the stairs too. We position them in the middle of the basement. I crack open smelling salts under David’s nose to wake him up. He gasps and jerks back, groaning. He looks over at his partner tied up next to him, scans the room, then his gaze lands on me.
His eyes widen with terror. I walk over and pull off his gag. He starts coughing, groaning, drool running down his chin.
“What is happening?” he slurs. “Mendez, are you hurt? What the fuck is going on?”
Mendez shakes his head and stares at the floor. Won’t even look at his partner.
I narrow my eyes. This bastard isn’t surprised or panicked like he should be. Most people scream, beg, ask why. He just accepted his fate the second we grabbed him.
He won’t even look at David. Won’t try to reassure him or figure out an escape plan. He’s already given up. Knows exactly why he’s here. The question is what he’s been hiding and how deep his secrets go.
“Something’s off about this one. He’s not questioning why he’s here. Won’t respond to his partner. I’m going to find out what it is. Are you staying?” I say in Russian.
Mikhail shrugs. “Staying.”
I walk over to the wall, pick up a crowbar, test the weight. The metal feels good in my hands. I stop in front of David and bring it up slowly, let it touch his temple and tap it once.
He flinches and looks at me, blinking. “I … I recognize you. You’re Alexei Avrorin.”
David’s voice cracks. “I know what you do for your family. Jesus Christ, I worked the Ricci massacre. The crime scene photos were … fuck, they were the worst thing I’ve ever seen in my entire career.
It took the coroner three days just to identify all the pieces.
We had to use dental records because there weren’t enough intact body parts left.
You’re not human. You’re a fucking butcher.
” He shudders, pulling against the restraints.
“You can’t do this. We’re police officers. You can’t touch us.”
He’s seen what I leave behind. Knows exactly what I’m capable of. Which means he already knows how much this is going to hurt.
“What did you get out of it? Beating someone until they couldn’t fight back anymore. Making them feel small. Worthless. Did it make you feel powerful?”
He looks confused for a moment. “What are you talking about?”
Then understanding clicks. “Wait. Are you talking about Kelly?”
He actually laughs, short and bitter. “Wait, how do you even know Kelly? What does he have to do with you?”
Mendez flinches at Kelly’s name, but he keeps his eyes on the floor.
I grab David’s hair, yank his head back so he’s forced to look into my eyes. I slam my fist into his face. His head snaps back. He coughs, spits blood.
“Wait, wait … Your family has a contract with the police commissioner. You’re not allowed to kill cops unless it’s agreed to. We all know about that rule.”
“Some rules are meant to be broken. Especially when you touched something that’s mine.”
He spits more blood. “Yours? What? How do you even know him? Kelly isn’t yours. He was going to come back to me. He just needed—”
I swing the crowbar into his ribs before he can finish. Bone snaps with a crack that bounces off the walls. His screams fill the basement, loud enough to make my ears ring.
“Kelly has problems,” he gasps out. “Serious mental problems. He makes things up, twists—”
I hit him again. Same spot. Harder.
“He threw himself down the stairs and blamed it on—”
The crowbar connects with his knee. Something inside him gives way. He’s sobbing now, gasping for air.
“Stop talking about him. Every word you say makes this worse for you.”
But he can’t help himself. “I swear I didn’t touch him. Not once. He came at me. I had to defend—”
I drop the crowbar and grab his arm and twist. He shrieks.
“You broke his arm in self-defense?”
“Yes! He attacked me. I just pushed him away—”
I twist harder. Something grinds. “Liar.”
“I’m not lying! He makes people feel sorry for him. He manipulates—”
I let go of his arm and swing the crowbar into his shoulder. Blood and snot run down his face. His cheekbone collapses with a crunch of the bar. Blood sprays across the concrete.
Mendez is shaking, staring at the floor.
David’s barely conscious but still trying to talk through broken teeth. “I … I love him—”
Love.