The doors of my brother’s mansion open, manned by four highly equipped soldiers holding automatic weapons. In the distance, the house itself looms, bathed in shadows. The cold air from the Adriatic sea perfumes the air with brine, yet all I smell is the scent of decay and rot coming from the depths of this hell pit.
My heart lurches in my chest. Valid fear spreads through me.
My brother is one sick motherfucker, and unpredictable at the best of times. There’s no way to tell how he’ll punish me. Because I know it’s coming. And nothing he’s ever inflicted on me before will compare. My brain isn’t capable of forming an inkling of what he could do to me.
It seems he’s killed many of his men while I was away. I don’t recognise any faces as I park by the main door then step inside, my helmet underneath my arm.
“Brother,” my nightmare exclaims as he prowls forward to greet me. His massive arms encase me in a false hug. It holds no warmth.
We’re even in height and weight, watching each other eye to eye. But there’s a cunning and a malevolence in his, the brown shining with the sadistic shine I know all too well. His hair cropped short gives him a severe and dangerous edge.
A rictus lifts the left corner of his mouth, and his nostrils flare. “I’m so happy you’re here,” he seethes through clenched teeth. “We’re going to have so much fun. Come.”
With a snap of his finger, a man steps forward. With hair cropped short like Petar and an economy of movements, he makes me think of an old soviet soldier. Seems he might be my brother’s best trained man, understanding Petar’s intent without words. He takes my helmet and removes my leather jacket, then disappears behind one of the many closed doors.
While the Ventura mansion is all open space and tasteful decoration, this house is barren. The paint on the walls is cracked, all doors are closed and no one is boasting loud laughter. Petar’s steps are loud in the silent, empty corridor as he saunters towards the back of the house. Towards the basement.
It’s always a fucking basement.
I steel my spine and follow after the man who could have been kin but turned into my worst enemy. He doesn’t glance behind his shoulder, assured that I will follow, finally back to being the obedient pet he trained me to be.
The temperature drops as we descend the metal staircase and make our way into a room. A metal chair is sealed to the floor in the middle of the empty space with thick, concrete walls. Shackles with heavy chains bound to the floor surround it. I clench my knuckles involuntarily to stave off the shudder that wants to take over my entire body.
“Go on,” Petar says, almost kind. “Strip and shackle your feet and one hand. I’ll do the other.”
There’s no point in disobeying. Lucie’s life depends on my compliance. Everything I care about depends on me obeying, submitting.
Once I’m naked, seated on the cold chair and restrained as he asked, Petar closes the distance between us, locks the other shackle around my right hand in place and steps back, admiring his victim. I grind my teeth. I’ll keep doing it until this is over.
There isn’t a single soul I wouldn’t kill and torment to make sure Lucie is safe, including myself. I make a promise while my brother observes me with sharp eyes as though to determine how deep my betrayal truly runs. If I find Diane, I’ll extract her and send her away in one piece back to Lucie’s father and her husband. This is the last thing I can do for Lucie’s safety, so her heart never breaks again. The woman she considers a mother has to leave this place in one piece.
I repeat the vow over and over, drowning Petar’s acute gaze on me.
He narrows his eyes and turns to a corner of the room, plugs in a tool and opens a tap.
Fuck. It’s going to be bad.
Water starts to drip from the hose and Petar slides his fingers through the slow stream of it, as though to test its temperature. He hisses and I know it must be colder than Siberia. The tool next to it crackles with electricity. I’ve never received a shock from the cattle prod he loves to use, but I’ve seen it plenty of times.
Before I can settle my nerves some more, Petar douses me with ice cold water and my lungs seize. I may have taken ice cold showers for weeks to feel closer to Lucie and her routine but this isn’t it. Not only is the water freezing, the jet is heavy and steals my breath as it hits me right in the fucking chest.
I howl in pain when my brother orients the jet of water lower, hitting my cock and my balls. Agony lances through my legs, myback bows and arches. My brain feels like it’s freezing, dying, all feelings and sensations honed to ice cold pain.
Then it stops and I heave a breath, coughing out water.
“That sweet cry. How I missed you, brother.”
“You’re not my brother.”
Petar clicks his tongue, then water hits me again, right in the throat. My head snaps back. It opens more space to hurt. I bring my chin to my chest but the water hits my forehead. An ice pick to my skull would hurt less. I cry out again.
The water stops. I breathe but my reprieve is short lived. Petar advances towards the chair and sticks the cattle prod right to my pecs. My whole body seizes. There’s nowhere to escape. I’m stuck to the chair, my whole skin and organs electrified, burnt.
I want to die.
And we just got started.
“Let’s try that again. Who am I?”
