“You did.” Leaning in until we’re mere inches apart, I take in the stale copper of the room and his sweat. The son of a bitch reeks of fear. It’s sharp, sour and disgusting. It won’t change his fate. “Only you’re not paying Sergei anymore. You’re paying me. And after tonight, your debt is settled. So. Which way do you want to go?”
He presses his lips into a fine line while he stares me down.
“Stubborn,” Lev comments from the shadows.
“That, he is. But that’s fine because I’ll decide for him.” Reaching into my jacket again, I pull out the curved finka. “This is for men who don’t deserve a quick death.”
Sokolov’s shoulders twitch in a small recoil he tries to hide. His gaze lifts with stubborn spite as he leans back as far as the ropes allow. “You were easier to break than your father. Sergei said you’d try to reclaim your place. Said he’d let you. Said you were already his.”
He barely has time to inhale before my fingers are fisting in his hair. I jerk his head back hard enough that the chair legs scrape against the concrete. His breath catches and his eyes are flaring with real fear now. I feel his pulse through my palm, the fast thud of a man who knows he's out of time. I want him to know that no matter what Sergei promised him, I am the one who decides if he breathes.
“There he is,” he whispers. “The animal.”
My knife is already in my grip. “Animals kill for survival,” I murmur. “This isn’t survival. This is judgment.”
I drag the blade across his torso once. Sokolov sucks in a wet, startled breath as blood blooms fast, spilling over the edge of the cut and soaking into his shirt. I watch the red spread across thefabric, tracing the exact line I made. The blood is hot, steaming slightly in the cold basement air.
“You think this changes anything?” he tries, but his breathing is jagged now. “Sergei owns.”
I touch the blade to the same line, not cutting yet. His pulse jumps under my fingers. “You don’t speak unless I ask you to.” Lowering my mouth to his ear, I press the point in. “When you held me down and when you helped Sergei break me, did you think about what this moment would feel like?”
He swallows hard and his throat is working fast under my grip. His skin is clammy, the sweat of a man who knows his clock has run out. “This moment where revenge would find you? This moment where your prince would find you and cut you open, watching you bleed to death?”
“Viktor.”
“No. You’ve wasted your final words. Now you’ll die with mine branded in your skull.” I hook my knuckles deeper into his hair and yank his head back until his eyes meet mine.
“Please.” His breath shakes against my fingers.
“You betrayed my father. You betrayed me. You will pay for it with your death. I’ll see you in hell, dog.”
Then I slit his throat. Hot blood surges over my palm in a sudden, wet heat. The spray hits my chest, warm and metallic. He gurgles once, trying to swallow the life spilling out of him. I watch as his fingers strain uselessly against the ties and his legs kick once before the strength leaves him. I keep my eyes on his until they go flat. I want the last thing he sees to be the man he tried to ruin. I want him to take the image of my face to the grave.
His muscles go limp against the ropes. His gaze clings to mine until the light disappears. I keep hold of his head until the pulse under my fingers stops. Only then do I let him fall.
The chair tilts and his body slumps sideways as the dead weight hits the concrete with a dull, final sound. His eyes stay open while they stare at nothing. Lev steps forward and checks the neck before he wipes his palms on a rag. “We’re done.”
I nod while I am still looking at Sokolov’s open eyes. The man who helped Sergei keep me weak is just a corpse on a basement floor now. He died begging, and the world is better for it. We turn toward the stairs and the cold air hits the blood on my hand, turning it tacky.
By the time we step into the alley, the dark streaks are drying across my skin as if they belong there. I’m a dead man who has found his way back to the living and the blood on my hands is the only proof I need that the war has finally begun.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE
VIKTOR
Jonah is stillawake when I return home. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed with a book closed on his lap and a blanket pulled around his legs. His head lifts the moment the door clicks. The sight of him there is the first thing that actually makes the adrenaline from the basement start to level out.
“Viktor.” His eyes go straight to the blood on my face. “Are you okay?”
I shut the door behind me. Today was a good day. We took three men out in total. Soon news of Sokolov’s death will move through the streets and Sergei will know his nephew didn't just escape. He’s claiming his throne back.
“It’s past one. You should’ve been asleep,” I tell him.
“I tried, but you didn't come back.”
I walk closer, taking in his eyes as they track every movement. He doesn't shrink from the blood and doesn't flinch when I stop in front of him. I can still smell the iron scent of the basement on my skin. I bet he can too. I’m still covered in the reality of what I just did, and he’s sitting there in the middle of my bed like I am a man worth waiting for.
