61
Bought
I looked at Irene with all the contempt in the world.
She was standing on her tiptoes, with her soles punished, her face contorted in horror and tears, and her lips sewn shut.
Andrey had stitched them together after the redhead said she had nothing to say. The stench made me wrinkle my nose. She had soiled herself. The Russian showed no mercy towards her, just as I had asked.
Andrey had stitched her lips together after the redhead claimed she had nothing to say. The stench made me wrinkle my nose. She had soiled herself. The Russian showed no mercy towards her, just as I had asked.
In my hands hung the suit, shoes, and blonde wig that appeared in the images Segarra had given me. The first thing I did was pull out a knife and cut the black thread stitches, not caring about the pain it might cause her. The pain she had caused us was much deeper and lasted longer.
Irene screamed. The small filaments stood out on her marred flesh. I took two steps back, held up the clothes, and threw the shoes and wig at her feet.
"What the fuck is this?!" I howled.
"Clothes?" she replied.
"Do you take me for an idiot? This is the outfit from the images I showed you, the ones where you suggested the woman was Nikita, and it turns out they were in your fucking closet."
"That's a lie! Those clothes aren't mine! Someone must have put them there!"
As if I would believe that nonsense. I started a tug-of-war to get her confession. She swore and swore that they weren't hers, that someone had planted them in her apartment, and that she was never there on the day of the transaction.
Her alibi was pathetic. The sale happened on a Saturday when she wasn't working. I didn't see her that weekend, and Irene claimed she spent it at Yuri's place. Very convenient.
After my conversation with Jelena the previous night, I asked Piero to search my ex-lover's apartment. He found the outfit in a bag, hidden in a corner of the closet, buried under a pile of shoe boxes.
That revelation made a tingle settle in my gut. What if my mother-in-law was right? It wouldn't be surprising after all the lies Irene had wrapped me in.
My instructions to my man were clear. I needed confirmation. If those clothes were in the apartment, I wanted them, along with any other evidence that could lead us to Yuri.
In my hands lay the evidence. I was done believing the words of this blatant liar.
The night Nikita disappeared, my father and I reviewed the videos and audios Andrey had provided, scrutinizing every detail and noting everything to miss nothing.
I admit my heart tightened when I heard Irene accuse Yuri of my wife falling in love with me. He, as expected, refused to believe it, arguing that it was all an act, that she didn't love me, but something in the depths of my heart told me he was wrong.
My father gave me a sidelong glance. I held my ground, not wanting him to criticize me for still loving my wife. Perhaps that small spark of hope refusing to be extinguished was what kept my faith oscillating, that the woman carrying my child felt a fraction of the whirlwind I was engulfed in.
It hurt too much. The betrayal, the lack of a future with her. I needed to harbor a tiny option within me to keep going. I had gone over every moment with her. Her glances, our fights, those fiery kisses that turned everything before her arrival to ashes.
Nothing and no one compared to Nikita Koroleva, and admitting it filled me with anguish.
What if her arrival in my life had turned me into a weak, insecure creature? I couldn't allow that; a future capo couldn't harbor indecision or doubts, and now I had all of them.
Yuri had sowed the chaos, made it germinate, flourish, and entangle me in thick, suffocating vines.
He was a ruthless bastard who didn't care about the harm he caused. In one of the images, he was seen having a phone conversation with Huang, the restaurant guy.
Korolev was negotiating Cheng's downfall behind her father's back. I doubted Jing knew about the Chinese man's and the Russian's intentions.
Yuri showed himself as he truly was, a calculating, ruthless, and soulless being. With a gaze avid for unlimited power, he sought to annihilate any obstacle that stood in his way to supremacy.
I confronted Irene furiously. I yanked her hair, and she screamed in terror as the fabric of the suit suffocated her.
"Tell me why this was hidden in your closet!" I bellowed.
I held it against her nose and mouth for a few seconds until her breathing became irregular. Then, I pulled it away and threw it along with the shoes.
"Please, Romeo, I swear that clothing isn't mine. Someone must have put it there, maybe your wife."
"Oh, really? Did Nikita know where you lived?"
"She could have found out, maybe sent that torturer to plant it."
"A thief believes everyone else is just like them. You made me think you wanted to help with my marriage, and look at everything you've done. You're a despicable being, a pathological liar, and responsible for a teenager jumping off a rooftop."
"It wasn't me, I swear. I've done wrong things, but I love you!"
"Of course, I forgot the new trend in love is to kill the loved one's acquaintances and lie to their face."
"It was them or me; I had no choice!"
"You had a choice! You could have switched sides and sold Yuri out to save me, but no, you chose the opposite." I brought my hand to her throat and squeezed. "You chose to distract me, knowing they were trying to kill Aleksa, and if it weren't for Andrey, my man would be dead." Her tears fell thickly. I pulled my fingers away, and she started coughing from the lack of air.
"I'm sorry, I promise. I regret it so much."
"You'll regret it more if you don't tell me where Yuri is."
"You think if I knew, I wouldn't have told you already?! Do you know what that savage has done to me?"
I didn't care what the Russian had put her through. I needed a damned clue, one that would lead me to them. Andrey had been relentless, staying by Irene's side and barely sleeping for days to infiltrate Korolev's house.
I let go of her hair and slapped her with all my strength. Her lip split, and small droplets of blood splattered onto my shirt.
"Talk!"
"I don't know where they could be! I told that pig everything I know. Didn't he explain it to you?"
"I don't care what you told him. I know you're hiding something, or maybe you're missing something. I have a hunch. Where does Yuri hide Cheng?"
That was another unresolved question. I had considered the possibility that the three were together. My men, my father's men, and Nikita's men had been combing the Costa del Sol with no results. Even Yuri's vacation home in Menorca had been raided by my uncle's envoy and some of our guys.
"He never told me. He didn't even take his men when he went to visit her. It was a secret only he knew."
"Think about the details; something must have slipped. No one is perfect enough not to make mistakes or overlook a comment. Try to remember. Did you find anything in his pockets after he visited her? A card, a matchbox..."
"I'm very tired, dirty, my whole body hurts. I'm thirsty, hungry, and sleepy. Let me go, and I'll try to remember, but I can't guarantee anything."
"How inconsiderate of me. I forgot to ask Andrey to put you in a suite with all the amenities," I responded sarcastically. "Try hard, and maybe I'll listen to some of your pleas." A sigh of frustration escaped her battered lips.
"Yuri doesn't smoke."
"And what about any scent on his clothes? You've always been good with smells." I had once joked that she was like a bloodhound. "Maybe a smell of... gasoline? Grease? Dump?" I suggested. Irene's eyes widened in surprise. She had remembered something because her pupils shot up, searching for a forgotten memory. "What is it? Say it!" I urged, shaking her. She grimaced in pain; she was too sore from the punishments inflicted.
"It might be nothing, maybe it’s irrelevant."
"I'll decide that. Speak."
"Salt and a closed-up smell. I remember because five days ago, he came by the apartment after meeting with Cheng. I went to kiss him, and the combination of smells hit my nose."
"Go on."
"As soon as he entered the apartment, he got a call. He immediately pushed me away, and when he answered, he mentioned a name that wasn't familiar. He went into the bathroom to talk, something he never did. I got curious and put my ear to the door."
"What did you hear? Who was he talking to?"
"The director of the port, the new one."
"Arasagasti?" I asked, surprised.
"That's him. He told him he didn't want anyone snooping around the place and to take care of it."
"What place?"
"I don't know."
"Yuri has a place at the port?" I insisted.
"Could be. I didn't have a list of his properties. Yuri handled the old director himself. He wanted someone else in the position to manipulate, someone unrelated to you or his sister who could follow orders."
"Are you telling me the Basque works for Yuri?"
Irene had dry, bleeding lips and stuck out her tongue to try to moisten them.
"I couldn't ask about his business. If I found out anything, it was because Yuri wanted me to. If I dared to ask, he'd tell me it wasn't my business and make me pay for it in bed. Being with him has been hell."
I didn't doubt it. It was her choice, and I couldn't be burdened with her complaints. Irene had made her decision; she could have asked for my protection but never did. She sold me out from the start, end of discussion.
"Did Yuri have anyone else besides Arasagasti?"
"If you give me some water..." It was fair, and besides, her tongue was starting to trip. I offered her some. After a few sips, she thanked me and continued. "What I know is that it was no coincidence that Arasagasti became the new director, nor that the journalist who self-immolated went after Korpe to discredit it."
"Jonás Sánchez was also working for him?" I questioned, surprised. Irene nodded.
"Yes, but I swear I didn't sell anything to his son or anyone around him. You have to believe me." A thousand ideas pounded my brain with the latest revelations.
"Tell me everything you know, and maybe I'll be lenient with you." Her eyes sparkled, and she gave me a hopeful smile.
"The campaign to discredit Mentium and the adulteration of the product was Yuri's doing. He wanted to push Nikita to ruin so her only option would be through you. He gloated about it days before the wedding. He knew you'd promised to take care of his sister and that you always keep your promises. He also knew she would do anything to avenge his death and the disgrace to her family." I clenched my fists violently. I hated that Korolev knew us so well, that he had turned us into mere puppets. And if I knew my wife at all, I sensed she wouldn't have liked it either, no matter how much she loved her brother. "For Yuri, the most important thing in the world is himself, and he won't hesitate to trample anyone he suspects of the slightest disloyalty."
"You mean Nikita?"
"I mean anyone." That much was clear when I saw him point a gun at his sister. "Do you understand now why I couldn't tell you anything? If I did, I was dead." Her eyes were filled with guilt.
"Tell me one more thing."
"Anything."
"Do you have anything else to say that might be useful to me?" She shook her head. "And one last wish?" She looked at me in horror.
"Are you going to kill me?"
"No, I won't kill you. You've killed yourself with your lies and disloyalty."
I drew the knife and brought it close to her. Killing her with a shot would have been too sweet and quick.
"Don't do it! I beg you!" she pleaded, feeling the first incision in her skin.
Her screams fell hollow. No one would hear her there, no one but those grimy walls now covered in lament.
Several long, stinging cuts slashed her flesh. I would make sure that the end for a vermin like her was slow and painful.