The warehouse smelled like rust and decay, the kind of place where screams went unheard and bodies disappeared without questions. Fitting.
I descended the metal stairs slowly, letting each footstep echo through the cavernous space. I wanted her to hear me coming. Wanted her to know her time had run out.
Maria hung from chains in the center of the room, wrists bound above her head, toes barely touching the concrete floor. Two weeks of captivity had stripped away the polished veneer I remembered. Her hair hung in matted tangles, her expensive clothes torn and filthy, her face gaunt with dehydration and fear.
But her eyes... her eyes still held that manic obsession when she saw me.
"Dmitri," she croaked, her voice raw. "You came."
I didn't respond. I circled her slowly, taking in every mark Georgi had left—bruises, cuts, burns. Each one calculated to hurt without killing. Georgi was an artist in her own twisted way.
"I knew you'd come for me," Maria continued, a desperate smile cracking her chapped lips. "I knew you couldn't forget what we had."
The delusion would have been funny if it wasn't so pathetic.
I stopped in front of her, close enough that she could see the coldness in my eyes. "What we had," I said quietly, "was a transaction. You were a means to an end. A tool I used and discarded."
Her smile faltered.
"You were never anything more than that, Maria. Never."
"Not true…"
I pulled out the stack of photographs Georgi had found, the ones of us together, the one with Natasha's face covered by Maria's. I held up the last image. "And this sick fantasy where you replace her? What were you thinking?"
Maria's breathing quickened.
"You tried to kill my wife." My voice dropped to something lethal. "You hired men to terrorize her. To run her off the road. To murder her so you could take her place."
"I love you!" Maria screamed, the words raw and desperate. "I love you more than she ever could! I would do anything for you and I’ve proved that! Everything I did was for us!"
I grabbed her face roughly, forcing her to look at me. "There is no us. There never was. You were a ghost I fucked while pretending you was someone else. That's all you ever were."
Tears streamed down her face, mixing with the dirt and blood.
"Natasha is my wife. My queen. The only woman who will ever matter to me." I released her face with disgust. "And you tried to take her from me."
"Please," Maria whimpered. "Please, Dmitri, I can change. I can be whoever you want. Just give me another chance."
I stepped back, pulling a knife from my belt. The blade caught the dim light, gleaming and sharp. Maria's eyes went wide with terror.
"There are no second chances for people who touch what's mine," I said. "Georgi wanted to kill you slowly. Painfully. Make it last for days."
Maria sobbed, pulling against her chains.
"But I'm not as patient as Georgi." I tested the blade's edge with my thumb. "You don't deserve my time. You don't deserve to occupy even one more second of my thoughts."
"No, please! I'm sorry! I'll disappear, you'll never see me again."
"You're right about that last part."
I moved behind her, gripping her hair to tilt her head back. She screamed, thrashing uselessly against the chains.
"This is for Natasha," I said coldly. "For every moment of fear you caused her. For every nightmare. For daring to think you could take her place."
The knife was swift and efficient. One clean cut across her throat. Blood poured hot over my hand, her body convulsing as she choked on her final breaths.
I held her there, watching the light fade from her eyes, watching that obsessive madness finally extinguish into nothing.
