"Take me to the bastard," I tell him, my voice steady with resolve.
"Are you sure? It's not a pretty sight, Roxy."
"If the roles were reversed, do you think Damien would hesitate?"
"No. I think the poor bastard would already have every piece of connective tissue peeled off his body."
He signals me to follow, then texts one of the girls in the house to watch Damien.
"I want guards posted at the bedroom door."
He studies me for a few seconds then nods.
When we reach the basement entrance, I pull in a deep breath. My wedding dress is stained with my husband's blood, my hair's a mess, and I'm certain my makeup is smeared across my face. I probably look like I crawled out of a nightmare, and I hope to God that's exactly what the man tied to a chair in the center of the room thinks.
All I can see is the light fading from Damien’s eyes. All I can feel is his warm blood on my palms. All I can taste is the terror of almost losing him. I let that rage seep into every thought as I take a few steps toward the coward who dared to touch him.
"Did your hubby bleed out, or do we need to wait?" he sneers when he sees me.
I can't stop the smile spreading across my face. He doesn't realize that the image of Damien bleeding is exactly the fuel I needed as I pick up a sharp knife from the table.
"No, but we can see how much you can bleed," I say calmly, nodding at Vasili. "I need you to tell me who sent you, preferably before I figure out how these blades work."
"Go to hell."
"Since you're being so charming, let me share a secret." My smile turns glacial. "In high school, I competed in anatomy olympiads. A subject I thought was useless for years, but Dad only seemed to notice me when I told him what I'd learned. Probably because he wanted to be a doctor once."
I lean closer, my tone sharp.
"So I know exactly where your major arteries are. I can calculate precisely how much blood you can lose before needing a transfusion and how long you can last without water before the hallucinations start."
I grip his chin, forcing him to meet my eyes.
"So I'm asking you one last time: WHO THE HELL SENT YOU?"
His silence only steadies my frayed nerves. It's fine, he'll have time to scream. Because I wasn't lying. I'm done watching the people I care about turned into targets and hurt. And the fact that I feel no remorse about making the guilty suffer wraps around me like a shadow.
The next second, I drive the blade into his deltoid muscle, and some of my pent-up anxiety evaporates with his scream.
His howl is the only sound echoing in the room, but I'm acutely aware of Vasili's and the other soldiers' stares.
"Who sent you?"
I see in his eyes he still has the strength to endure. Perfect, I still have demons to exorcise.
"Vasili, do we have something that produces flames?"
His eyes widen instantly, but without questioning me, he brings a welding torch.
"We don't have anything else."
"It's enough." I pass the blade through the flame, metal hissing.
When I turn back to the man who's finally started to sweat, I say, "This blade, which I estimate is easily four hundred degrees, is going through that spot you men value most. Now, I could be nice and let the boys continue having their fun with you like before, or I could use my new toy and see how long it takes you to pass out from the pain. What's it going to be?"
He studies me from head to toe before spitting, "You're crazy, lady. No wonder that lunatic married you."
My expression shifts from a smile to furious.
