Broken Vengeance (Salvation #3)

Prologue

The guard stares numbly at the grainy black-and-white security feed. Their prisoner, Boris, is close to breaking. He knows it, the commander knows it, even Boris knows it in that little part of his brain that hasn’t splintered from the torture.

The man sneers in disgust as he watches Boris in his cage several stories below. He’s talking to the rats again.

At the sound of footsteps echoing down the hall, the guard quickly stands to attention. He glances over his shoulder to ensure he’s safely tucked the porn magazine he snuck in for entertainment out of sight. Reassured, he trains his eyes just above the doorway and maintains his stiff posture.

Seconds later, the heavy metal door flies open and thuds against the dingy gray concrete wall of the security room.

The commander steps in, radiating power and cold malice.

His pure white hair glints harshly in the flickering fluorescent light, and his blue eyes are so pale they seem almost colorless.

Even his skin seems ghostly white—a stark contrast to the black-and-red uniform that hugs his powerful shoulders.

Despite himself, the guard's eyes flick to the commander’s face.

He shivers when he makes eye contact with the demonic-looking man.

Even without hearing the stories, he can see the evil intent lurking behind the commander’s rigid control.

He tears his eyes away from the man’s depthless pale eyes and tries to suppress a shudder.

A second man follows the commander inside the small security room, making the already stuffy space feel suffocating. Compared to the commander, the second man has a small stature and is thin, with a weaselly face and glasses.

The guard feels another sneer twist his lips.

One of the scientists. Honestly, he doesn’t understand what value the scientists bring.

They are always jabbering about protocols and test subjects.

Why not just beat the products until they comply?

To the guard, that seems like a much more efficient and satisfying way to get them to do what you want.

Sadly, the Program has strict rules about beating the products. Anything is fair game, as long as it doesn’t leave a mark or damage them permanently. Twice he’s been able to sample the products, and he’s enjoyed it immensely—even if he’s had to restrain himself somewhat.

“Status update,” the commander demands, his eyes fixed on the security screens.

“No change, sir,” the guard replies.

Turning to the scientist, the commander says, “Tell me again about my missing product.”

The scientist gulps nervously and glances down at the tablet clutched in his hands.

“Product number 417,” he reads from the tablet.

“Part of our first product line. Some notes in her file regarding programming issues. Purchased most recently by Boris.” He gestures vaguely at the security monitor in front of them.

“The last confirmed location was the Bratva compound in the United States.”

The commander’s gaze locks onto the guard. “Has Boris given us everything we need?”

The guard nods. “Yes, sir. We’ve got full schematics of the estate and a detailed assessment of Alexi Novikov’s assets and security. We’ll be able to get a man inside very soon.”

The commander smiles, and the sight is terrifying. “Then our guest no longer has any value to us. Kill him.”

Now, it’s the guard’s turn to smile. His day just got a lot more fun.