He slung me over his shoulders, and they all headed out without a word. I cried for help as they moved through the hallways like shadows in the dark.
Everything happened so fast, and the next thing I knew, I was thrown into a room that looked like a cell. Cold and dark. The sound of clanking metal echoed off the high, damp walls while my kidnappers locked me in.
I rose to my feet and rushed to the bars, my fingers tightening around the cold metal. “Let me out of here!” I shouted. “Let me out!”
They walked away, leaving me alone in the dark, cold and helpless. I combed my fingers through my hair, shocked and confused about what had just happened.
Why was I locked up in a cell? And why now?
Chapter 12 – Roman
I sat at my desk in the dimly lit study, a stub of a Cuban cigar perched between my lips. Smoke curled toward the ceiling, swirling around my face as I leaned back in my chair, listening to the sound of her screams.
Her voice echoed through the halls as my men dragged her to the basement. I’d ordered them to force her out of her room and lock her in a dark cell. The idea was to scare the shit out of her so that when it was time, the fear in her eyes would be authentic enough to deliver my message.
This whole thing was staged. I had her moved to a cold, dark cell, not to punish her but to paint a darker picture of her reality in my estate. I felt a strange emotion swell within me when I heard her screams; it pricked me. However, I couldn’t show any sign of weakness.
Not now.
My phone vibrated on the table, and I casually picked it up. “Is it done?”
“Yes, Boss,” one of my men replied on the other line. “She’s locked up in the basement.”
“And the camera?”
“Rolling.”
I ended the call.
Not long after, the front door swung open, and three of my men, together with my lieutenant, walked in, holding a skinny-looking man captive.
He looked malnourished. His head was bald, his lips were cracked, and he had bags under his hazel eyes. He didn’t look like the ruthless killer I once knew him to be—but I still remembered that face as if it were yesterday.
“Get over there!” Sergei shoved him forward.
Mercer almost fell to the floor but managed to steady himself. His hands were zip-tied behind his back, and although he looked weak, he refused to show any fear. He stood before my table, eyes pinned on me, his face blank.
Even though I almost couldn’t recognize this skinny man, that stubborn look in his eyes was familiar. His daughter got it from him. It was good to see that some things about him hadn’t changed.
“If you’re gonna kill me, then have at it,” he said, his voice deep and husky. “It’s long overdue anyway.”
I let out a puff of smoke, my lips twisting into a mischievous smirk. “Come on, Mercer,” I began, my tone low and even. “Is this how you greet an old friend?”
He swallowed hard, jaw locking in place.
I set down my cigarette in the ashtray, then opened a half-empty bottle of scotch and poured myself a glass. My fingers wrapped around the stem, and I lifted the glass to my lips.
I took a sip. “Scotch?”
Silence.
“No?” I let out a soft sigh. “Suit yourself.”
“Just get it over with, Roman,” he said. “Avenge your uncle…. Kill me.”
My blood boiled at his words, and my face turned ugly with anger. I tightened my grip around the glass in my hand as I glared at him, resisting the urge to put a bullet in his skull.
But I had other plans.
