The words settle deep in my chest. They are both unsettling and tempting.
Chapter 20
Kazimir
He trips over the curb when I hit him.
I don’t hit him hard enough to knock him out, but it is hard enough to steal his breath and his rhythm. He has the easy confidence of a man who believes mornings belong to him. One second, he is jogging past a line of parked cars in designer running shoes, earbuds in, breath measured and unhurried. The next, he is sprawled out on the pavement, his skin is scraped off his palms, and a startled sound tears out of his throat.
I’m on him before he can roll.
My hand fists in the back of his shirt and hauls him upright, slamming him chest-first into the side of the nearest van. The metal of the door dents with a hollow thud. His earbuds are knocked out of his ears and the faint sound of music chirps from the tiny speakers. One of my men reaches into this asshole’s pocket and pulls out his cell. He tosses it on the ground and crushes it under his steel-toe boot.
“What the--” he starts.
I drive my forearm into his throat and cut the word off. He gags, and his fingers claw uselessly at my sleeve as Nika steps in. He’s precise and efficient, wrenching his arms behind his back.Plastic cuffs bite down. The man wheezes, and his feet scrabble for purchase. I lean in close enough that he can smell me.
“You touched a woman who was under my protection,” I say quietly.
He shakes his head with instinctive denial. “I don’t—” He tries to say.
I punch him in the kidney, and his body folds with a sound like a broken bellows, vomit splattering the pavement. And my Varvatos boots.
“Disgusting. Osian, stop on the way back to the estate and buy a new pair.” TheBoevikdoesn’t bat an eyelash; whether it’s an assassination or shopping trip, as long as I’m the one giving the order, he does it without question.
Nika opens the van, and we throw the man who beat Devin inside.
I climb in after him and slam the door shut. Darkness swallows him, punctured only by his choking breaths and the low hum of the engine as it turns over. I crouch down so we are eye level and stare into his glassy eyes. His face is blotchy; he’s clearly terror stricken.
Good.
“You are very lucky,” I tell him. “Because this is not about making you disappear.”
He sobs, a wet, humiliating sound.
“This is about education.”
I nod once. Nika hands me the baton without comment.
As the van pulls away, I raise it slowly, deliberately. I watch him until understanding finally dawns on him and I can see it in his eyes.
He screams on the first strike.
He does not stop screaming for a long time.
The ropes creak when he shifts his weight.
He is tied to a chair that’s bolted into the concrete floor. His wrists are bound behind him, his ankles secured, and a strip of tape is stretched brutally across his mouth. It’s a cliché setup, but it's cliché for a reason; it works.
One eye is already swollen shut on the ride back, his designer running clothes replaced with whatever was in the van, and his dignity has been stripped down to barely nothing. The basement smells like iron, oil, and damp stone. It’s beneath one of the outbuildings on my land, and built to endure.
This room has seen worse than him.
I step into the light and watch his gaze snap toward me, recognition flaring fast and panicked. He remembers me, despite having passed out briefly. That matters. Men who understand who holds power break more efficiently.
Nika stands off to the side, and two other men linger in the shadows. They are Bratva to the bone; waiting without needing instruction. The door opens softly behind me again, and I feel the shift before I turn.
When I see Devin, she is as still as stone standing on the threshold.
