20. Chapter 16
Chapter 16
Nikolai
“ T his can all be over, you know? You don’t have to suffer more than you already have.”
The man’s eyes plead with me, as they have been for the last hour, accompanied by a pathetic little whimper. He keeps his mouth shut, and I sigh.
I wipe his blood from my hands with the scrap of fabric that was his shirt half an hour ago and then hold out my open palm. Boris hesitates before passing over a long, thin knife. He won’t say it, but he wants us to stop. Boris isn’t a torturer. I think he likes explosives because it takes away the human element. You never have to look in their eyes and see the person whose life you’re about to snuff out.
I hate it, too. But I’m not a coward. If I’m ending a life, I’ll give them the respect of knowing who took them from this world.
Our prisoner squirms in his seat, his wrists and ankles bound to the chair. I trail the knife along his bloody skin, from the centre of his collarbone to the line of his boxers.
“Who are you working for?” I ask calmly.
His eyes flit between me and where the knife is hovering, dread and panic climbing higher and higher. I Pull the knife away for a moment - he has resilience but nobody holds out forever. I don’t want to give him a panic attack before I’m finished with him.
“Why should I tell you?” He sobs, spitting out blood and shards of teeth.
I turn the knife over in my hands, my eyes on his.
Boris speaks up. “Maybe you know something worth keeping you alive.”
I don’t suppress the scowl. I’m not in the habit of lying to dead men. It’s the type of cruelty that finds its way back to you.
The man doesn’t answer, waiting for my confirmation.
“You should tell us because if you don’t, you will be here for a very, very long time. If you do, it will be quick. Those are the only options you have.” I keep my voice level and cold.
The man swallows and, finally, the darting of his eyes ceases. His shoulders slump and his fingers relax their grip on the splintered arms of the chair. His eyes flicker up, shrunken blue whirlpools in a swamp of red, and the air in the room shifts.
“Of all the people I thought they’d send to kill me, torture me, you were the last I would have guessed.” He speaks through rasping breaths and strained croaks.
Boris goes quiet, shrinking into the shadows as he listens. Heat burns in the scars crawling across my body, and suddenly I find the weight of his gaze excruciating.
“Damon told me about what happened to you. Every monstrous detail. And he told me you weren’t as cruel as the rest. Now I see you’re as disgusting as the rest of them.”
“Damon?” Whispers Boris.
“Quiet.” I roar.
“Looks like they carved out more than your flesh, Nikolai. How long did they keep you there?”
“Long enough to know how to break a man.” I snarl back.
Our prisoner doesn’t budge, he doesn’t bend. In the eye of the red storm rising in my chest, I feel respect for him and shame for my past.
“I’d never betray a friend.” He says, between heavy breaths.
Boris watches like a statue of a scared child hiding their eyes behind a pillow, reliving a horror movie locked in his subconscious. He sees death float over to his helpless victim and cradle their face in his cold, bony hands.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” I whisper down to him, holding his face in my palm.
“I know what Damon told me.”
“Damon left us for dead.” My fingernails dig into his skin. “Damon caused all of this fucking mess. And now he’s done it again. You’re here, alone, without fucking Damon.”
“I knew what I was getting into when I signed up for this.” He says, holding his head high. “I’m not a coward. Nobody else will die for me.”
I pull back, and his eyes meet mine for the last time. I turn, snatch my gun from the side, and close his eyes forever.
We dispose of the body in total silence. Boris averts his eyes from mine the entire time. He has the steadiest hands I’ve ever seen; he needs it to operate all the explosives, but while we pack the body into a body bag, his hands tremble.
The first half of the car ride back is the same, the two of us staring in different directions, as if the other isn’t there. We stop at a red light that drags on forever, when he finally lets slip what’s been itching him the whole time.
“He said he worked for Damon, right?”
I glance at him for half a second before setting my eyes back on the road. “Forget what he said.”
Boris crosses his arms. “Does Viktor know?”
I let out a sigh. “Nothing is confirmed. We don’t know he’s back, so there’s no need to go to Viktor with this. We don’t need to rile him up over ghost stories.”
Boris strokes his beard, his hand still quivering. “Did you know?” His eyes snap to me, burning a hole in my head. “Were you just acting like you didn’t?”
“I knew he might have been connected to Damon.”
“So, who was the man we just killed? Not just some foot-soldier, I bet.”
I lick my lips and slowly apply pressure to the pedal as the light turns green. “I don’t know. Probably some idiot who thinks Damon will take Alek’s throne.. If Damon is even here. It’s probably bullshit. Rumours from the other families to distract us.”
Boris accepts my answer, but I know he doesn’t fully believe me. He just knows asking more will get him in even more danger than he already is. The history of Damon Sidorov haunts us all. We fall back into the silence, but he doesn’t stop fidgeting.
“What is it?” I snap, to get it over and done with.
Boris takes in a deep breath, hesitating over the words in his mind.
“What that guy said about you in there… I’ve heard a lot of stories about… that. Is it true?”
I don’t look at him. I pull the car to the curb, straighten my back, and calm the demon in my soul before it pushes me to breaking Boris’s neck. When I turn to him, he looks paler than the body we’ve just dropped.
I cock my head to the side, and before I can say a word, Boris is already backtracking. “Sorry! I know, I shouldn’t ask. I’m just curious. We don’t get told all the details.”
His eyes flit between me and the door handle, his whole body tensing like a deer coiled to spring away from a wolf.
The sound of my phone ringing saves the deer from a bloody demise. My eyes linger on him, bloodlust pulsing through my veins, and then I drag myself away to answer my phone.
It’s Greyson.
“What is it?” I snarl.
“Your wife.”
“What about her?”
“It appears as though she’s run away.”
Oh, princess, now I’ll have to punish you.