Chapter 34 #2
“Oh, knock it off! We know you speak English!” I scream at him, and surprisingly, he shuts up.
He looks directly at me with narrow eyes, and it’s clear that he recognizes me by the twinkle of annoyance there.
Good. That’ll make this even easier. “Thank you.” I roll my eyes and stand up.
As he thrashes and jerks in the chair, I get as close to him as Zeke will let me.
The moment I get within dangerous reach, he holds his arm out to keep me back.
I cut my eyes at him, but I don’t try to close the distance any more, yet.
My gaze meets Popov’s, and I make sure I’m clear when I speak. “Where are DeLuca and Saconne?”
He looks up at me like I’m stupid for asking.
His head is tilted, and his eyes have shrunk even further into thin slits.
The look instantly pisses me off. I’m not in the mood, and I don’t have the time for him to play dumb.
Alex warned me to expect it. He said that these things never go the way we want them to, but my need for answers is starting to overwhelm me.
I know that I’m a ticking time bomb, and the chances of Zeke allowing me to be involved much longer are getting slimmer and slimmer.
“You think I know?” he asks in that really annoying accent.
“Yes, I do,” I reply sternly. “We know you were involved with them, and clearly, you and Hugo were close.”
“I told Dranan that I wanted nothing to do with this. He insisted, and said that my contributions were vital. I was paid well for my efforts, but now that my services are no longer needed, I stay away.” He shrugs like all of this is no big deal.
That one little movement brushed off everything we’ve been through the past few months, and my jaw ticks.
“Do we look dumb, mother fucker?” Zeke chimes in and crosses his arms. “We know you’re not. So, let’s skip this whole ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’ thing, and just get to the good part.”
I pull Zeke’s knife from his side and push through him, stepping as close to Popov as I can.
His hands, arms, and shoulders are all tied and restrained.
Tape and chains hold his legs as well, so I know he’s not moving any time soon.
Daisy steps up with me and instantly starts growling.
I can almost feel the same rumble charging in my chest, but I snarl at him instead.
“Do you know what my husband did to your friend? Can you imagine what he put Hugo through?” I shove the knife up to his throat, and I hate it when he doesn’t flinch. He stares directly at me like the thought of me slicing his jugular open is laughable to him.
“No. But I know what Dranan did to you,” he taunts in as a singsong, and the room heats up.
Memories of that day flash at an alarming rate.
That scar, Hugo’s breath, the cut to my chest—it all comes flooding back, but it only makes me even angrier.
My heart starts to pound in my chest, and my gaze remains locked on him.
“What the fuck did you just say?!” Zeke says and steps forward, but I stand straight again, not willing to show him any weakness. If he thinks for even a moment that he’s going to crawl under my skin, then he’s got another thing coming. Once I stand to my full height, Zeke stops by my side.
“Don’t worry. We’ll give him a taste of what Hugo had.
Daisy?” I look down at her, and she looks almost happy that she’s finally being called on.
“Set.” She sits instantly. Her gaze locks on Popov, and her lip curls like he’s dinner.
Drool even starts to slip between her jowls, like she’s salivating at the thought.
I press my finger to the com in my ear while I contemplate on unleashing her early, because why not make her happy?
“Carter? Send me the Attic footage of Damien’s time with Hugo. ”
“Yeah, you got it,” Carter replies, and within about three seconds, my phone pings.
I pull it up and play the video, but I almost tear up the moment I hear Damien command Daisy.
He looks so angry here—so hurt. A part of me wants to continue to watch, because then, I could at least pretend he’s here.
It wouldn’t be enough, though. Nothing will be enough until I can feel him with my own hands.
As my arm extends to show Popov the footage, Daisy whines just a little, like even she’s saddened by Damien’s voice.
Her eyes don’t leave Popov, though, and I know she’ll act the moment I tell her to.
Hugo’s screams fill the room, and I watch as Popov’s face morphs from an unimpressed frown to a scared grimace.
His eyes widen, and his lips curl in a disgusted frown.
He groans just a little before he gulps, and I’m already anticipating his pleas for mercy.
I let it play out a few moments longer, and just when I hear the sizzle of the burger press, I pull the phone away.
“I’m sure there’s something in this house that we can use to our advantage,” I threaten. He shakes his head, and his mouth hangs ajar for about two full seconds before he speaks.
“Alright. Listen, I truly don’t know where they are. We don’t have contact anymore.”
“You expect me to believe that?” I raise an eyebrow and position the knife back at his throat. The blade bobbles up and down as he nods erratically.
“Yes, I swear it. I did my part. Avery no longer needs me, and I refuse to be part of the clean-up,” he reveals frantically.
Something about the newfound fear in his eyes is telling the truth, and I can start to feel my strength waver.
Whatever performance he’s putting on is a damn good one, but I refuse to believe it just yet.
“So, Avery is just getting rid of loose ends,” Ezra chimes in, almost like he wasn’t expecting that answer. I cut my eyes over to him, almost hating him for the remark.
“Precisely,” Popov replies, and my heart sinks.
This can’t be right… He has to know something.
I can feel my body start to tingle, and the desperation is starting to settle in.
Damien wouldn’t take no for an answer. He’d dig it right out of him, and as I push the knife into the side of his neck at an agonizingly slow—and not lethal—pace, I start to feel the same urge.
“How did you start working with Avery?” I ask.
“Hugo. He and I were already business partners. Avery needed weapons, and I needed additional markets. He already had relations with the Italians and vouched for them. It seemed like a win-win at the time.” He bobs his head side to side in a belittling manner, but then he catches himself and steadies.
“Now, Hugo is gone, Avery is in no need of my services, and your little group has ensured that I can’t sell without problems. I have no business left in your state.
I am simply trying to move what I have left. ”
He’s trying to justify himself and solidify his lack of involvement.
Even though there’s a knife to his throat, he stares up at me with certainty, like a simple explanation will make me remove it—as if I wouldn’t really kill him.
This one occurrence of innocence, and he thinks that excuses everything else?
He believes that we would just let him go?
He doesn’t understand the disappointment he’s just laid at my feet.
This isn’t happening. We haven’t wasted another week going after a dead lead.
Popov hasn’t been using this time to cower, and he hasn’t completely cut off ties with them.
Dranan fucking Hugo can’t be our only link left to DeLuca and Saconne, because he’s already fucking dead…
The man that tortured and raped me can’t be the only person that can give me answers.
“You’re lying…” I whisper, but then swallow harshly. “They have my husband, and you’re going to tell me where they are, or so help me—"
“Listen, devochka,” Popov interrupts me. “From what I know, if the Society has Hartley, he’s long gone. There is no saving him,” he says in an almost-sympathetic tone, and my hands start to tremble.
The past few months collide with the present, and suddenly I’m overwhelmed by swirling blue.
Damien’s sandalwood, musk, and vanilla aura rushes its way into my lungs, and I can’t breathe.
Every smile, every laugh, and every endearing look he’s ever given me comes forward to attack me.
The pain he carries quickly follows. Each time he inhaled me, each touch—whether it was brief or lengthy—and each tear he’s shed all merges into one image.
The muscles in my jaw start to cramp from how tightly I’m gritting my teeth, and my face pulls in agony.
It’s his eyes. I can almost see them. The specks of ice that I see in them are overtaking my chest, and I can’t bear it anymore.
“Ash…” Alex lays his hand on my shoulder, and I angrily shrug him off.
“No! He’s lying! He has to be!” I raise the knife above my head and drive it into Popov’s leg.
He screams out and thrashes, but I hold my hand steady.
That stab might as well have been in my heart, because that’s exactly what it feels like.
Daisy whines softly, as if she wants to get in on the action, but I keep my focus on Popov’s eyes.
“Where is Damien?!” I can feel the urgency take hold in my chest, and that thumping against my ribs makes its way to my ears.
The rim around my vision turns red, and then it starts to swim, blocking my ability to see.
My hand becomes clammy around the knife handle, but I’m sure to hold it tighter.
Even through the pain, Popov only shakes his head and grits his teeth, but nothing else. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t beg. There are no fucking words—no answers. He doesn’t have answers…