Octavia Three Hours Earlier
Octavia
Three hours earlier
Another boot drives into my stomach.
The air leaves my lungs in a harsh rush, but I don’t scream.
I won’t give him that.
I bite down on my lip to keep the sound trapped inside. I taste blood almost instantly.
I lift my head, slowly.
Our eyes meet.
The man I killed.
Or believed I had.
The one who should be buried six feet under, forgotten and rotting, yet stands before me very much alive.
Very much breathing.
My vision blurs for a second from the relentless blows.
Yuri Zorin.
The name sits heavily in my mind.
I shot him. The bullet struck his head after I relieved him of the one thing he valued above all else, his manhood.
He should not be here.
And yet he is.
Each kick of his boot against my body confirms that this is not a hallucination.
How did I misjudge so catastrophically?
Why is he standing here instead of reduced to ash?
Did one of my men fail to dispose of him properly, or did I?
Did someone betray me?
What, exactly, went wrong?
What disturbs me most is not his survival.
It is what his survival means.
He is one of them. The sort of man I remove without a second thought. And if he has survived all this time, then he has continued exactly as before, harming, exploiting, destroying.
Men like him don’t change.
Rot like that doesn’t disappear, it runs in the blood.
My stomach tightens.
I know for a fact he no longer has his manhood. I made certain of that. He will never violate another girl in that way again.
But trafficking doesn’t require a fucking dick.
It requires connections.
He was never alone. If anything, he was merely a puppet for men far more powerful than himself. He belonged to a circle, business associates, as they like to present themselves.
Influential men… protected men shielded by money and power.
Reaching them is never simple. The higher their standing, the thicker the armour around them.
Even so, I reached Yuri.
I eliminated one from that circle. Or so I believed. My intention was never to stop there. I meant to dismantle them all, especially him. It simply required time.
I don’t speak his name.
Not even within my own mind.
Another blow lands into my ribs, knocking the air from my lungs. My vision destabilises. For a moment I wonder whether deprivation has begun to distort my mind, hunger and thirst pulling him from memory.
But no.
“A bullet to the head,” he says lightly. “And yet here I stand. Stronger than ever.”
His boot drives into my stomach again.
“It was not fatal,” he says, visibly amused. “You might consider improving your aim. Then again, what can one expect from a little girl pretending she belongs in this world?”
A low laugh escapes him. “Pathetic.”
He tilts his head, assessing me.
“I will concede this,” he says after a pause. “You did leave your mark. Ever since that bullet struck my skull, the headaches have been unremitting. They do not grant me a moment of peace.”
The next hit drives into me.
“And for what you did—” He stops abruptly.
I smile despite the taste of blood in my mouth.
“You mean removing your pathetic excuse for a dick?”
His foot connects with my head next. My vision lurches as pain detonates along my temple.
Damn.
I touched a nerve.
“Shut your fucking mouth,” he snarls. “I intended to kill you. You will answer for what you did to me. That is the only way you pay.”
He begins to pace, agitated.
“He promised,” he mutters. “He promised I would be the one to kill you. You were mine.” His voice tightens.
“And now he suddenly wants you?” He lets out a harsh laugh.
“Perhaps he always did. Perhaps he thought if he allowed me to torture you for a while, I would simply hand you over.” His temper snaps. “For what? What does he need you for?”
His eyes are deranged.
The bullet did more than leave him with headaches. It may well have left him cognitively impaired.
“This is absurd,” he roars, hitting me again and again.
I try to piece together how long I have been here, but time no longer makes sense.
I was taken from that hospital, already injured from the accident.
Or rather, from his men who attempted to run me down.
He allowed me a few days of quiet, to regain some strength. Then he began his so called torture sessions and inflicted injuries worse than before.
Which means I spend much of my time here unconscious.
The last thing I remember clearly is the hospital.
Milo.
Damn it, I miss him.
I wonder what he believes happened.
Is he searching for me?
Where does he think I am?
He stepped out to collect my food. Less than three minutes later, two men in white coats entered the room.
Doctors, or so I assumed.
I had no time to question it.
A syringe pressed to my neck, and the world went dark.
Another hit lands against my hip.
“You were supposed to pay at my hands,” he spits. “But I can’t kill you. You must pay with your life, and he won’t allow it.”
He starts pacing, unable to stay still.
“You’re being handed over today,” he adds. “He is taking you from me.”
That confirms it.
What I already knew instinctively.
His superior, the head of the trafficking ring.
The one I despise with every fibre of my being, a man who should have been dead long ago.
The mere thought of his name turns my stomach.
And now Yuri intends to hand me over to him?
This torture has not broken me. But facing the man I loathe with every fibre of my being just might.
So this began as revenge.
Yuri took me because he wanted to settle his score.
I understand that.
But what does his boss want with me?
Is it because I went after one of his men?
Perhaps this is no longer about Death.
Maybe it is something else entirely.
My past returning for me.
Another blow slams into me, and I fight to hold on to consciousness.
Yuri leans in, his voice dropping. “You should have never interfered in our business.”
I lift my head, blood running down my lips, and meet his eyes.
“You should have stayed dead,” I whisper. “But don’t worry. I will come for you again. And this time, I will make certain you burn.”
I gather what little strength I have and spit on his face.
His hand cracks across my face. My head jerks sideways, and the room begins to tilt.
“I can’t kill you,” he snaps. “But he will. Either way, you die. Only the hands will be crueller.”
He laughs, the sound unstable.
Yeah, that bullet did more damage than he realises.
Darkness closes in, and this time I let it take me.