“But first, you have to hurt me,” I ask her dad.
“What?”
“Petar’s going to show up here any minute. Where’s Lucie’s team?”
“I’m not sure. I’d say two hours away.”
“We don’t have much time. That loud noise you heard? That’s their alert for an escape. Punch me.”
“What will you do?”
“Stall them. And kill Petar. Now, fucking punch me.”
I barely finish my sentence before his fist connect with my jaw and my head whirls to the side. I grunt.
“Again!”
“Gladly.”
I slump down after the fourth hit, blood pouring from my broken nose and his split knuckles. They leave, looking behind them, before they disappear into a black sedan with blacked out windows. It’s common in the area and I have to admire how prepared they were.
Thumping sounds of boots slamming the grass grab my attention. A slow smile spread on my cheeks. There’s going to be hell to pay, and for once I’ll be the one dishing it out.
TWENTY-SEVEN
TOMA
Three men in tactical gear I don’t recognise rush towards the guard house, frantically looking for the escaped prisoner. When they see me bleeding and on my knees, one of them talks into his earpiece, alerting Petar’s chief of security of the breach.
I wait patiently.
I won’t be able to take on Petar’s whole team and system by myself. I have to stall while Lucie and the Dobrev-Ventura coalition make their way here. It shouldn’t be long now. London is only two and a half hours away by jet.
My brother’s most predictable quality is his pride. By failing him, I make him look weak. He won’t tolerate my mistake. He’s going to make an example out of me. And be exactly where I want him. In a locked room with me.
Petar may be The Butcher of the Balkans, but he made me into The Beast. I trained harder than him. I killed with my body while he used tools at his disposal. I’m underfed and weaker than I used to be, but he’s too full of himself to see that we are no match. He has nothing to fight for while I have revenge to enact. We couldn’t be more different.
A sliver of shame makes its way into my ribcage and squeezes my lungs. It shouldn’t have taken this long to realise that I couldhave asked for help, that I was never as powerless as he made me think. It took a few words from Lucie’s father, and the threat on her life to realise that Petar Kovac’s reign of terror needs to end. And I’ll be the instrument of his downfall. Knowing the Venturas are coming gives me extra strength. And hope.
Maybe deep down, I wanted him to turn into the brother he could have been. A protector and a friend. But he’s had his chance. He touched what is mine while I vowed to serve him until my dying breath. His word means nothing. And a man who can’t be trusted to hold his promises needs to be put down.
Finally, his booming voice announces his approach.
“You good-for-nothing piece of shit!” His fist collides with my broken nose and I grunt out in pain. “You let her escape.”
His anger rains down on me. I protect myself best as I can, knowing full well I can’t retaliate now while half a dozen of his men watch. While he thinks I’m his obedient dog. Petar kicks my ribs, my thighs while I bunch myself into a ball and hide my skull from his boots and fists. Spittle flies out of his mouth as he continues his assault, both physical and verbal. Nothing registers.
I couldn’t care less about the names he calls me, about the hate spewing from his mouth and the blow of his hands. There was a time when his violence made me terribly sad. The little boy inside me has been hurt one too many times, and is now resigned to never knowing what it’s like to have a brother.
Through all the pain, it’s Lucie’s face I see. Clear and perfect for the first time in weeks. How she smiled softly at me like I made her life easier, like she wanted me to stay. And for her, I’d take it all over again. I’d live through years of abuse just to see her one more time, and make sure she’s safe.
I was a fool. The words I said to her have shame coating my entire being. My brother must think I’m at my breaking point. He stops his assault.
“Take him to the chamber,” he tells two men who catch me under the arms and drag me towards the basement. A cold sweat rises on my skin, my body’s response automatic after days of the same terror being inflicted on me and broadcasted for all to see.
I pray he’s not going to restrain me. I whine, exaggerating the sound. His men chuckle cruelly and drop me into the cold room. And unfortunately for me, they shackle my feet to metal chains attached to the concrete floor. My hands remain unbound. It will have to be enough.
And I’m not naked. Another silver lining. I hate being naked now.
