"I know you are." I stand and pull my gun from the holster at my back. "But sorry doesn't bring back the men who died because of information you provided. Sorry doesn't undo the damage you've done."
"Please—"
I put the barrel against his forehead. "This is mercy, Timofey. I could make this last hours. I could make you suffer. But I'm giving you a clean death, if you tell me what you’ve told them, and what they know because of you. Be grateful, and be honest."
He's crying now. Begging. Promising things he can't deliver. I turn the gun and smash it into the side of his cheek, feeling teeth loosen as I do. He cries out and I reach into his mouth with one hand, yanking one of the loose teeth out and throwing it onto the floor.
His scream echoes in the basement. He flops and struggles, nearly knocking the chair over, and I pull out another tooth. Then another.
Before much longer, he tells me everything. All the information he passed over and to who, what Volkovs organization knows, and the part he played in what happened with Yuri. For that, I pull out three more teeth, until he’s begging for death.
I take another, for good measure, and then I finally give him what he’s asking for… which is better than he deserves, as far as I’m concerned.
I pull the trigger.
The sound is deafening in the small room. Blood and brain matter spray across the concrete floor, and Timofey's body slumps in the chair, held upright only by the ropes binding him.
I holster my gun and turn to Viktor and the two men standing near him. "Clean this up. Then spread the word—anyone else working with Baumann or Volkov should come forward now. Confess, and I'll consider mercy. Stay silent, and when I find you, it will be much worse than this."
They nod and get to work, as I leave the basement with blood spatter on my shirt and the cold satisfaction that one more rat has been ferretted out.
But it doesn’t fix the damage that’s been done. It doesn’t bring Yuri back, or change the complications that have arisen between my captive and I.
It feels good, but it’s not enough. It won’t be enough until everyone who has threatened me, or tried to betray me, is dead.
Until this empire is mine, irrevocably, as it was my father’s before me.
—
Ten minutes late,I stand in my shower, watching pink-tinged water circle the drain. The rage is still there, simmering under my skin. Alexander Baumann thinks he can use his daughter as a pawn while simultaneously arming my enemies. He thinks he can play this game and win, and get his daughter back.
He's wrong. My jaw clenches.Maybe I won’t give her back. Not ever. Maybe I’ll destroy Volkov and him, and keep Liesl. There’s no ransom now. This isn’t about giving her back. This is about winning.
I'm pulling on fresh clothes when I hear footsteps in the hallway outside my room. They’re light and soft, and they can only belong to one person.
Liesl.
My body reacts instantly, my cock swelling just at the sound of her approach. As if she’s Pavlov’d me like a fucking dog. I’m yearning for her before I even hear her hesitant knock, and then the door opens before I can decide whether to let her in or send her away.
She's wearing jeans and a soft-looking t-shirt, her hair pulled back, her face clean and soft. She looks young and vulnerable, nothing like the woman who was on her knees in my office last night.
"Andrei.” Her voice sounds resolute, as if whatever she’s about to say she’s practiced in her head several times. "We need to talk."
I button my shirt slowly, watching her. "About what?"
"About last night. About—" She takes a breath. "About us. This. Whatever this is between us."
I raise an eyebrow, refusing to take her bait. She can try to get out of this game, but I’m not finished with her. "And what is it between us, Liesl?"
"I don't know." She moves further into the room, and I can see her hands are shaking. She shoves them into her pockets."But I know it can't continue. I know that every time we—every time I let you—" She stops, then starts again. "I'm losing myself. I'm becoming someone I don't recognize. Someone who wants things she shouldn't want. Who does things she knows are wrong."
I let a slow smirk curl the corner of my lip. "You think what happened yesterday was wrong?"
I know her answer already, but I want to make her say it again.
"Yes." The word is firm. "Yes, I think it was wrong. I think all of it has been wrong. And I think if I don't stop now, I won't be able to stop at all."
Pure lust burns through me at that, at her admission that she can’t resist me. That despite her morality, that compass she’s trying so desperately to cling to, I make her come undone.
