His smile stayed but surprise flickered before he recovered, lighting another cigarette. "So you know. Good. Saves time. She's a sweet piece, isn't she? That pussy, tight, wet, sweet as sin. You like the taste? Bet you do. Bet she moans your name like she used to moan mine."
The taunt was a red rag, my vision narrowing to a tunnel of fury. I could see her in my mind,trembling in my arms after the party, her body shaking as she confessed fragments of the horror he'd inflicted. The stalking, the drugging, the warehouse. And now this filth, spewing it like it was a joke? My control almost snapped, but I held it, stepping closer, my voice a low growl. "You think you can scare me with words? You're done, Boris. Finished. She'll never see your face again, never hear your voice. And you? You'll rot in a hole no one finds."
He laughed, flicking the cigarette into the water, the faint sizzle cutting through the night. “Big words, Keith. You talk like a man, but you’ve lived your whole life protected. Your father let you play builder while I cleaned up the filth.” His smirk sharpened. “But her?” He tilted his head, eyes gleaming with something poisonous. “Aurelia was mine long before you ever looked at her. I chose her. Groomed her. She trusted me completely.”
He stepped closer. “You think you can fix her? Save her?” A cold chuckle left him. “She shattered fast when she realized what I really was. Thought she had spirit, but she broke like glass. Damaged goods, Keith. You should run while you can. She wasn’t special. She was just first. That’s all.”
I stopped a few feet away, my stance loose but lethal, every muscle ready. I didn’t need to raise my voice. The steel in it did the work. “You crossed a line. Took a hand where it didn’t belong, hurt her and aimed at me. I’m here to finish it.”
Boris shrugged, his hand slipping into his jacket, casual, but I knew better. "She came to me, remember? Begged for a second chance. But you... You're Father's pet. Think you can take me? I've been in this game longer than you've been wet behind the ears."
Before I could respond, movement, thugs emerging from the shadows, four of them, burly and armed with bats and knives, circling like wolves. Hired muscle, Boris’s dock rats. They charged, the first swinging a bat at my head. I dodged, the wood whistling past my ear, my training kicking in, mafia "lessons" from Father. Killing them would be child's play, a thought that flashed cold and detached, but I held back, disarming the first with a swift kick to the knee, his bat clattering away as he crumpled.
The second came from the side, knife flashing. I sidestepped, grabbing his wrist, twisting until the blade dropped, then drove my elbow into his throat, sending him gasping to the ground. "Pathetic," I muttered, my voice calm, but the third landed a punch to my ribs, the impact jarring, pain blooming hot. That was it. The fury unleashed, a red haze descending. I went into killing mode, the world narrowing to threats and takedowns.
The third thug lunged, but I was faster, my fist connecting with his jaw in a crack of bone, his head snapping back. He staggered, and I followed with a knee to his gut, then a chop to the neck that dropped him like a sack. The fourth hesitated, eyes wide, but I didn't give him time. Grabbing his collar, I slammed him against a crate, my knee driving into his groin, then a headbutt that split his brow, blood spraying. He slid down, unconscious, the fight over in seconds.
Boris's face paled, his casual facade cracking as he backed up a step, his hand fumbling for something in his jacket. A gun, no doubt. "What the fuck, Keith? I've known you for years. Never seen this side. You're a businessman, not a butcher."
I advanced, wiping blood from my knuckles on my pants, my voice a low growl. “You put fear in her eyes. That’s why this ends tonight. Not just because she’s mine, but because she deserved protection. And you chose to break her instead. You made her suffer in ways she’ll never forget. So now, I’m going to drag you into the dark and make you beg for it to stop. I’ll take my time breaking you, piece by piece, until you’re nothing but screams and regret.”
He dodged my first swing, his reflexes sharp from years in the game, his fist connecting with my shoulder in a glancing blow. We circled, the docks a stage under the warehouse lights, his breathcoming faster. "She was mine first," he spat, lunging with a knife from his pocket, the blade flashing.
I sidestepped, grabbing his wrist, twisting until the knife clattered away. "Wrong," I snarled, my knee slamming into his thigh, buckling his leg. He staggered, swinging wildly, but I was relentless, my fist to his gut doubling him over, then an uppercut that snapped his head back, blood spraying from his nose. He gasped, eyes wide, but I didn't stop. I grabbed his collar, slamming him against the crate, my forearm across his throat. "You stalked her. Drugged her. Sold her like meat. For what? A payout? Father's favor?"
He choked, hands clawing at my arm, his face reddening. "She... she was... easy mark. Didn't mean... have mercy..."
I pressed harder, his eyes bulging. "You don't get mercy." My free hand fisted, punching his side, ribs cracking under the blow. He wheezed, legs kicking weakly, but I held him, my rage a cold fire. "For every nightmare you gave her, every tear. This is for her."
One final punch across his face, and his eyes rolled back, body going limp. I released him, letting him slump to the ground, unconscious, blood pooling from his nose. The docks fell silent, save for the lap of water against the pilings. Victor's team emerged from the shadows, securing him, but I waved them off. "Take him to the safehouse. I'll deal with him later."
I stood there, chest heaving, the adrenaline fading to a hollow ache. It wasn't over. Father would notice, questions would come. But for Aurelia, it was a step. The nightmare ended tonight.
Chapter 22
Keith
Istood there, watching him breathe in the filthy warehouse. Every ragged inhale sounded like a lie I’d heard before. Boris Morozov, the man who thought pain was power, who thought breaking her made him untouchable. I’d pictured this moment too many times to count, but now that it was real, there was no satisfaction in it. Just a heavy, simmering calm that burned deeper than rage ever could.
He looked smaller than I remembered. The arrogance was still there , flickering in his eyes like a dying flame , but beneath it, I saw the tremor in his jaw, the twitch in his fingers. Good. Let him feel what fear tastes like.
Aurelia’s voice wouldn’t stop replaying in my head. The way she’d said what he did to her, broken, ashamed, like she still blamed herself. That sound haunted me more than her silence ever did. He’d taken something from her that I could never return, and no amount of blood would balance that scale. But I could try.
When I looked at him, I didn’t just see the man who hurt her. I saw the reflection of everything I’d hated about my father’s world , the rot, the cruelty, the justification behind every order. Boris wasn’tjust one of them. Heenjoysit. He’d laughed when he said she was “damaged good.” He’d laughed while my fists were already on him.
Now, watching him bound to that chair, I didn’t feel pity. I didn’t feel mercy. I felt the weight of every night Aurelia woke up shaking, every time she flinched at the sound of footsteps behind her. That was the tally.
I leaned forward, meeting his eyes. “You touched what’s mine,” I said quietly. My voice didn’t need to rise. “You hurt her. And now, you get to see what that costs.”
He smirked , tried to, anyway. His lip split again. “You think you’re any different from me?”
Maybe I wasn’t. Maybe this was what my father had always wanted , another Krogen willing to get his hands dirty. But tonight, it didn’t matter. Tonight wasn’t about power or control or legacy. It was about her.
And I wasn’t leaving until the sound of her voice in my head was replaced by his screams.
“You don’t look as confident as you always do, Boris,” I said, my voice flat, devoid of the rage simmering beneath, as I dragged a second chair over, its legs screeching across the concrete. I sat opposite him, close enough to smell his filthy sweat, to see the pulse hammering in his neck. “No syndicate goons, no docks to hide on, no Father to clean up your mess. Just you, tied like the animal you are. How’s it feel?”
He licked his lips, the smile widening, though it trembled, a crack in his facade. He said nothing, just stared, his silence a challenge, a dare to break him. I leaned back, crossing my legs, my face amask of stone. The warehouse’s chill seeped into my bones, the drip of water marking seconds like a heartbeat, but I felt only purpose, cold and unyielding. This wasn’t for me. It was for her, for the women he’d sold. For the empire I’d one day burn to rebuild clean.
