Chapter 44 #2
“He’s stalling us. He’s planning something,” I hiss, my gaze darting around, trying to work out why he’s keeping us here and why my gut is telling me to stay with the desk between us for the moment.
“So, here’s the deal. If you and your comrades surrender to me now, I will tell my guards to stand down and call my medical teams in and get Iris and the baby help.
” The offer is tempting, even I can admit that.
It’s so fucking dangerous for Iris to give birth under these conditions, and I know Sergi probably has the right medical team on standby in the mansion somewhere, which would mean she’s safe.
But she wouldn’t be safe, not if the prison cell we discovered in that facility is any sign of Sergi’s intentions.
He’d just trap her, raping her over and over again until she’s pregnant with more of his children.
Who he’d only raise like he has with Nik.
No love. No affection. Just coldness, abuse, and hate.
And I won’t let another child suffer through that.
A sound down the hall has my head turning that way. It’s multiple booted feet, and Sergi’s smile grows.
“Ah, there are my reinforcements. Clock is ticking, Nikolai, otherwise I just kill you all and take Iris anyway.”
“You’ll kill us anyway,” Nik seethes, and Sergi cants his head to the other side, looking unhinged.
“True, but how about I let you all see the baby after he’s born? Something to take to the afterlife with you? And I will keep you alive, Nikolai, so you can know the cost of betrayal,” Sergi offers, oh so reasonably.
Movement behind him has my gaze flicking to see a panel of the wall silently opening, and none other than Alexei Volkov, aka Belial, covered in blood steps out. He catches my eye, places his finger on his lips, and quietly steps towards Sergi, who is oblivious.
“What do you say, Nikolai? Do we have a deal?” Sergi is still smiling, believing he’s won.
My grin hitches up as Alexei positions himself right behind Sergi, and Sergi looks at me, his own smile faltering.
He clearly senses something, but before he can turn around, Alexei has a beautiful knife at his throat, the blade red and glistening with blood.
I bet it is his father’s, and a pleasurable shiver works its way through me at the thought.
“Call them off, or I slit your throat right now,” Alexei whispers as his arms encircle the older man, tugging him closer into Alexei’s body.
He holds him lovingly, and I recognise his brand of crazy because it matches my own. There’s a special kind of relationship, a beautiful connection between a man and the person he intends to kill. It’s something precious, something that cannot be replicated.
Like a coward, Sergi hisses something in Russian, and the sounds of pounding boots stop immediately.
“You are much more compliant than my father, who is dead, by the way, as are his men,” Alexei states as we move from behind the desk.
“It was beautiful, his blood my paint and your walls my canvas as I tore into him, ripping him apart like he tried to do to my soul because you men never learn.” Alexei shakes his head in disappointment, his grip tight on a quivering Sergi.
Seems like Nik’s dad isn’t all stupid. He knows that the biggest predator in the room is the man holding him hostage, because if the stories are true, Alexei is crazier than I am.
“My men are working through your mansion, eradicating all those soldiers you hired. The fun continues.”
My fingers trail along the leather-covered surface of the ornate desk, an idea forming as a plan comes to mind. Ignoring the others for a moment, I sweep my arm over the surface; the items crashing to the floor until the top is now bare.
“Bring him over, would you?” I ask, looking up and finding all eyes on me. “And get rid of the comms. Please.”
Alexei shrugs. “This is not my kill, though I wouldn’t mind staying and watching if it’s okay with you?” He looks from me to Nik, asking both our permissions, and I dip my head. I don’t mind an audience while I work.
“Sure,” I state, Nik giving a nod as Alexei forces Sergi to the desk. “Hop on, Sergi baby. Face up.” He swears at me in Russian, so I give Dima a nod, and with a rare grin, he and Alexei force Sergi onto his back, pinning him down by his arms. “Just relax and lie back. Take a load off.”
I giggle, bouncing from foot to foot as a lightness fills my chest. Pocketing my favourite knife, I wrap both my hands around the hilt of the bayonet, a smile which I know is serene on my face as I bring it up and over my head.
Sergi babbles in Russian, but I’m on another plane of existence as I bring the knife down, impaling his shoulder to the desk to hold him in place.
He howls, but Dima and Alexei hold him still as I move to the other side, and with another bayonet—because one is never enough, trust me—I repeat the move so he’s secured. He’s wailing now, and the sound is a concerto, heightened by the noises of battle that now rage outside the door.
“Nicely done. People always underestimate bayonets,” Alexei states, his eyes shining as he lets go of Sergi’s arm and admires my handiwork.
“They really do. They’re such a versatile weapon,” I agree, smiling widely. I turn to Nik, his face locked on his father’s. His features are blank, unreadable, but his eyes burn as he stares at his tormentor. “He’s all yours, Niky boy. Just leave him alive enough so I can get my gift for Lamb.”
He gives a sharp nod, his eyes still locked on the man who abused him for years and raped our soulmate for weeks. A wicked grin splits his lips as he stalks closer, withdrawing a large hunting knife.
Looks like Niky boy has finally let his beast free too. What fun!