I walk over to the chairs and drop into the one next to Daniil. Calder starts working. The screaming picks up fast, echoing off the concrete walls.
Daniil elbows me and holds out the bag of chips. I grab a handful and toss a few into my mouth, the crunch barely registering over the screaming.
It takes about twenty minutes before the guy completely breaks. “I’ll t-tell y-you everything,” he chokes out. “P-pplease. J-jjust s-sstop.”
Calder steps back and wipes his hands on the blood-stained apron. “Disappointing,” he mutters to himself.
I drag a chair in front of the man and sit down. He’s shaking so bad the metal rattles against the concrete floor. Blood drips down his nose, smearing across his lips in thick streaks.
“Talk,” I say, pointing at him. “But if you scream one more time, I’ll make sure you feel every single second of what comes next.”
“We …” He coughs, thick and wet, blood coming up fast. He spits it onto the floor and tries again. “W-we only knew someone was going to show up at the w-warehouse.”
He starts wheezing, coughing harder like his lungs are filling up.
“Da, I already figured that out. You’re boring me.”
He sucks in air. “Santiago Nozares has a retired detective on his payroll. He’s been watching your family for him. Said someone from the Avrorin family was going to come to that warehouse. That’s all I know, please.”
He coughs again, and more blood spatters the floor.
I look at my brothers. “A retired detective?” I blink and rub my jaw once. “This is bigger than we thought. We need to involve Father.”
I stand so fast the chair tips back and hits the floor with a clang. Mikhail stands too and walks over, staring at what’s left of the guy.
“But—”
“Grow the fuck up, Mikhail. It’s time to take this to our father. If Santiago Nozares is planning a move on our territory, then this has to be brought to the table.”
Mikhail groans and palms his face. Then he walks back and kicks the side of the chair so hard the guy tips over and smacks the concrete. He starts screaming again.
“I told you screaming would make it worse.” I bring my boot down on his face. Bone cracks under the first hit, but I don’t stop.
I do it again and again. My boot slams through cartilage, skull, skin, until it’s not recognizable as a head anymore. Just a pulped mess spreading across the floor in red and gray chunks. It coats the sole of my boot, splashes up the hem of my pants, soaks into the cracks in the concrete. I keep going until there’s nothing left to break, until all I feel is soft tissue and fluid under my foot.
Most people see a dead body and feel something. Fear, disgust, horror. I see Tuesday’s problem solved. Death is just business, and I’ve been in business too long to pretend it bothers me.
There are people who get to be good. Who get second chances and clean slates. I get the weight of every life I’ve taken and the knowledge that I’ll take some more. The blood doesn’t wash off because it was always supposed to be there. It came with my last name.
I wipe the sweat from my forehead and glance at Mikhail. “Call Father.”
Now, all I want is to get back to that street across from Kelly’s apartment, see if the hallway light’s on, if he’s asleep, if he’s safe. I can’t stop wanting it, needing it like oxygen.
It makes me sick how much I need to see him.
Chapter 7
Kelly
Irub Clover’s ears and boop her nose. She doesn’t even twitch. We’re sprawled on my bed; my favorite show running in the background while I pretend it’s helping me de-stress from the long day.
It’s not working though; I can’t stop thinking about Alexei since he dropped me off at my apartment. The way he looked at me when I held his hand, I swear he wanted it, wanted me. But there’s something deeper under the surface that makes this complicated.
He’s involved in something I should stay far away from, that much is obvious. And he’s not out, not even close. If he even is gay or bi or whatever—then he’s shoved so far in the closet he probably doesn’t even admit it to himself.
I’m the one who clammed up when he asked what happened to me. I can’t even say it in my own head, let alone out loud.
How do you tell someone you were pathetic enough to stay with someone who hurt you? That you’re still trying to remember what it feels like to not constantly brace for impact?
