31 #2
“You’re right, I’m sorry.” He sits back down next to me, holding my hands in his. “I’m just trying to protect you.”
“I can protect myself. Besides, he loves me, he wouldn’t hurt me,” I murmur under his attentive gaze, remembering the marks of his teeth and cuts I have under my clothes, my cheeks flushing with a blush that my father ignores.
“He better not. If I find out he lays a hand on you, he won’t get out of here alive. And pack your things, we’re going home right now.” My smile from earlier fades away with his now authoritative voice.
“But…”
“No buts. Oh, and you’re not going out for a year.”
“Dad! You can’t lock me up for life,” I reply behind his back.
“Of course I can. I’m your father,” he says with a wolfish smile. “Hurry up.”
He turns around and walks out of the room. An annoyed snort echoes from the doorway behind me. I turn to see Alek standing there, leaning against the frame of this room—which looks like a hospital room, except for the dark decorations around it.
I ignore his bad mood. When I finish making the bed, I pick up my bag and put the few things I brought with me inside.
“Are you leaving?” he asks behind me. I turn around and meet his apathetic gaze. It stuns me a little, because I’m so used to the adoration I always see in his eyes, but as quickly as it came, it disappears. I nod, and he looks away, tensing his jaw. “When will I be able to see you again?”
“Sooner than you think,” I say with a smile, revealing my teeth.
“Bombs?” Denis asks with an incredulous look.
“I already have all their routes, we don’t need anything else. I want to see all their territories burn,” I say, clenching my teeth.
“Sounds good to me,” Sergei murmurs with a smile on his face.
“Let’s go.” Denis frowns before speaking with a stunned look on his face.
“Now?”
“Yes. Now. Is that okay with Mr. Volkov?” I ask, raising my eyebrows in an ironic expression.
“Fine, but make it quick. I have an appointment at the barber’s,” he mutters behind us as we walk to the van parked on the front garden. “I’m not driving,” he grumbles again when Sergei blocked his way to the passenger door.
I slam the door shut without measuring my strength, completely oblivious to whatever they’re arguing about now.
The conversation with Ray keeps going round and round in my head, pissing me off.
Above her being his daughter, she is mine.
My wife. He has no right to separate us, and of course I will wipe my ass with his words.
“Get going, Denis,” I bark sharply, looking at him through the glass. He curses under his breath when he sees Sergei’s triumphant smile.
Soon we arrive at some buildings that are posing as a shoe factory on the outside.
Inside people mix the ingredients to make the cocaine he had trafficked so many times, but no one notices they are not alone.
The idiot is too stingy to hire people to secure the perimeter when he isn’t around. Not that I’m complaining.
“Ready. All clear,” a young boy screams approaching us with some bloodstains on his clothes.
I nod, giving the order to activate the explosives we placed earlier.
In a matter of seconds, the buildings explode with a deafening noise, leaving a trail of gunpowder, blood, and limbs flying through the air like like bloody ragdolls.
With a smile, I watch as the fire spreads further and further, reducing everything in its path to ashes and leaving behind the smell of gunpowder and burnt flesh.
“You’re next,” I whisper into the air, my lips still curving with a smile. One that fades when I pick up my phone and see his name in the middle of the screen. “What?” I mutter with annoyance, walking away from the mess.
“I need to talk to you.”
“Go ahead.”
“Not like this. I’m waiting for you—.” I end the call.
My father is smoking a cigar with a dismayed expression by the time I enter the office. He only makes that face when it came to money or power.
“I don’t know where Lizzie is. I can’t find her anywhere.” I raise my eyebrows as I listen to him speak with a defeated expression.
“The girl with the dog’s name? Is that what you’re worried about?” I ask with a sly, mocking smile.
“No. You know I don’t. But damn, she was really good,” he blurts out with a bitter smile. “I think she left me for someone else. Younger or more handsome, maybe, because finding someone richer would be impossible,” he scoffs with a bitter laugh.
“I saw her talking to a police officer,” I say, lighting a cigarette.
“What the hell do you mean?” he asks, his eyebrows furrow.
I grab the duffel bag I had dropped by the door. It's still dripping blood, and the limbs are about to fall out of the bag. I leave it on the table under my father’s gaze, staining some papers.
“I should have asked you if you wanted to keep using the body before cutting it up. I’m sorry,” I say with false remorse.
He stands up with a screech of the chair, avoiding looking at the bag.
“And pray to the devil that your limp dick doesn’t bring us more trouble,” I murmur mockingly, raising my voice before he finishes walking away.
Then I go to the room in the dungeons where the semi-conscious policeman I saw talking to the bitch hangs from the ceiling.
The ropes have rubbed his wrists raw, stripping the skin.
I take out the gold knife with flowers on the handle and stab him in the throat.
When I pull the knife out, I wipe it with what is left of his T-shirt, the gesture reminding me why it became my favorite.
Three years ago, in Toronto.
Age 21
I had returned home at dusk, and when I didn’t find her in our room, I went to the kitchen. When she heard my voice, she jumped a little, dropping something in the sink. Then she turned around with a forced smile, blocking my view of whatever she was doing at the sink.
“Hi,” she said in a low whisper, avoiding my eyes.
Her chest rose and fell rapidly. My eyes went straight to the red stains on her pants and shirt that she had tried unsuccessfully to remove.
She seemed to realize it because she became more nervous, starting to play with her wet fingers.
I approached her before she could speak, seeing the blood that was still on the knife I don’t know how she had gotten, and part of the sink.
“I’m sorry. It was an accident,” she said behind me in a broken voice.
“What happened?” I asked, stroking her cheek when I saw the glint in her eyes. She was about to cry.
“I… No…”
“It’s okay, Lyubov’. You can tell me.” She wrapped her arms around my torso.
“It was an accident. I promise,” she said, her tears soaking my shirt as I stroked her back, feeling her sadness pierce my skin.
Denis burst into the kitchen to tell me that one of my men had been found dead in the basement. Lena looked at him fearfully, sensing what he had said even though he had spoken in Russian.
“No,” she whispered, grabbing my arm as I was about to follow Denis. “Don’t go.”
“It’ll only take a moment. I’ll be back soon,” I said before pressing my lips to her forehead.
“I’ll go with you then.” She took my hand in hers and squeezing it as we went down the stairs.
There, a man’s body was laying on the floor with more than one stab wound. One even went from his neck to his pelvis. His crotch was mutilated really badly and his eyes were filled with blood, surrounded by other fluids, as if someone had stabbed him there as well.
“Did you do it?” I asked, sensing that this was the reason she was so nervous. My eyes were filled with awe and my chest filled with a tingling warmth.
“It was an accident. He started it. He threatened me, I just wanted to go down to the basement. To… see,” she said beside me, her fingers beginning to tremble.
Maybe the man was just following my orders not to let anyone go down. Of course, that didn’t include threats to her. A lack of communication, I suppose.
“Accident? The man has more than six stab wounds and his intestines are exposed,” Denis said behind us.
After the look I gave him, he turned around and marched toward the exit.
“I’d be screwed if I ended up like that,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head from side to side before walking through the door.
Lena clenched her teeth, forgetting whatever she was going to say to divert her worried eyes to my face.
“You’re going to kick me out, aren’t you?” she asked with the same sparkle in her eyes as before once we were alone. I took her in my arms and lifted her up until our faces were leveled.
“Of course not. You did great, but next time tell me beforehand so we could do it together. It’s less complicated for you and that way I can teach you a thing or two,” I replied with a short smile. Then I kissed her cheeks and lingered on her lips. “I’m proud of you, my little demon.”