Chapter Thirty-Eight
In which Vadim swims through rivers of blood.
Vadim…
"Cut the feed, goddamnit!"
The chain releases and I drop to the cracked concrete, boneless, incapable of catching myself.
Rough hands roll me over and a thumb pushes my eyelid up. Ihiro, I think. My vision is fading.
Murphy's standing over me, holding a drill. "He better be feckin' breathing! I didn't get my licks in yet!"
Blood bubbles from my mouth and his expression brightens. "Aye, he's still breathing. Ye have to last longer than five hours, bitch."
There's a vibration, something sending all the steel sea containers shuddering. A flash of light and roar of sound shorts out my senses. Something wet sprays over my face. Five seconds later, or minutes or hours, I feel hands on me.
"Moy syn." Father's voice. It's shaking. I've never heard him sound this way.
"Vozvrashchaysya, tebe poka nel'zya otdykhat'. Come back now, you cannot rest yet." Grandfather, his dark voice rumbling through my bones.
Forcing my eyes open, I see their faces, drawn tight with terror. "O… sana…" I croak.
"Alive," Father nods, his hand tightens on my shoulder. "As are you."
"Oksana, wait! We don't -"
I would recognize her footsteps anywhere. Always quick and light, careful to not make much noise. The scent of cinnamon and lavender. Her hand cupping my face, light as a hummingbird.
"Thank you, husband." Her voice is hoarse with grief. "Thank you for staying with us. I love you."
I swim through rivers of blood, searching for my wife. She's calling for me. I swim in her direction; my arms are so fucking weak…
"...you should have seen their faces, moy vozlyublennyy, my beloved. The Irish scum cried when they cut off his hand holding the drill. I'll bet it was unimaginably painful."
There's a dark satisfaction in Oksana's sweet voice and it makes me want to laugh.
"I had no idea how popular you were. Here, I thought everyone was too afraid of you to propose friendship, but The Six all showed up. The Volkovs, I expected. My family of course, once I killed Father."
A matter-of-fact statement. No hint of shame or guilt.
"The others, though. Lukyan Kuznetsov, he's a little scary, like you.
Andrei Balabanov, and Vladimir Bukharov.
All of the Moscow Six. I don't know how everyone got there in time, but the message was certainly clear.
They used the Black Kynigós group's own livestream to show their torture and deliver a warning. "
"You cross one of us, you cross us all." My grandfather's voice.
"It was certainly decisive, wasn't it?" Oksana says. There's no fear in her voice, no intimidation. She's speaking to Grandfather with warmth.
"It was," he agrees in a tone I have never heard him use with anyone outside of our family. Of course, Oksana is family. Then, I'm floating away into the bloody waters again, searching for her voice.
Fuck, my arms are tired. How long have I been swimming?