My lips curve up. “I’ll be with you every second. You’ll be safe and in control at all times.”
Emotion tightens her features, and she reaches up for me. I bend down, hook my arm around her, and lift her until her feet leave the floor. As our mouths touch, the elevator opens, and I step out into the parking area.
I stop for a moment, and placing my hand on the side of her head, I thrust my tongue into her mouth and get lost in her warmth and addictive taste.
Nina
When Georgi leads me into a room, my gaze lands on a wide pane of glass. I stop dead in my tracks as I stare at Boris and Anton, where they’re hanging in a cell.
Holy shit.
I didn’t doubt Georgi, but seeing the men who’ve made my life hell, shackled and stripped, really drives it home. For once, they are the prey, helpless and at my mercy.
During the drive to this warehouse, I was focused on how happy I was that Georgi was back and checked that he didn’t return with any fresh wounds that needed tending to.
Boris and Anton look like they’ve been hit by a bus, and it fills me with satisfaction. For a moment, all I can do is stare while old, familiar fear echoes somewhere deep inside me.
“They can’t see you. The glass is one-way,” Georgi says as he stops beside me.
Their wrists are shackled to chains bolted into a steel beam above their heads, their bodies held upright by the restraints so that their feet barely touch the floor.
Every movement from them makes the chains rattle.
This isn’t some dingy basement. Electric lights shine brightly, illuminating everything.
The cell itself is empty. There’s no table with tools and weapons. No buckets. It’s just concrete and steel with a drain in the center of the floor.
As my gaze creeps along the wall, I see vents and shadows moving behind the grids. Only then do I hear the scratching and squeaking.
A shiver rushes down my spine, and my attention returns to the men who once made me afraid to breathe too loudly. Now they can’t see me. They can’t touch me.
The tables have turned, and I’m the one with the power.
Anton shifts, trying to rub his nose against his bicep, his shoulders straining worse than Georgi’s did. I take in the blood coating his mouth, chin, throat, and chest.
Boris hangs with his head lowered, then he lifts it slightly, as if he can sense someone is watching him.
Something merciless slithers through me as the memories creep out of the darkest corners of my soul. Years of pain, humiliation, helplessness, and ungodly terror flash through my mind.
Staring at the bastards, they don’t look like the monsters who broke me.
No, they look much smaller. Weaker.
The scratching sounds from the vents draw my attention again, followed by the slow drip of water somewhere above us. The incessant pattern is enough to drive any sound mind insane.
I step closer to the glass, and placing my hand against it, a smile curves my lips because for once, they’re the ones trapped.
They’re the ones who will be tortured and killed.
I hear something slide open, then Georgi asks, “Which of these would you like to use?”
Glancing over my shoulder, I see a wide drawer filled with all kinds of tools and instruments. There’s also a metal bat, a fireplace poker with a hook at the end, and a bullwhip that catches my eye for a couple of seconds.
Turning around to face Georgi, I struggle to make up my mind and ask, “Can I try all three of these to test them out?”
A smile spreads over Georgi’s face. “Of course, and if none of them do it for you, I can show you other ways to make the fuckers suffer.”
Other ways.
