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I’ll keep him alive long enough to ask about Luna. That’s where all of this started, anyway. Nik was trying to help me. I denied it over and over again, but he knew what Luna meant to me. He knew it before I did.
So I’m not going to let his sacrifice go to waste. I’m going to torture Akim’s man for information and then I’m going to gut him for what he did to my brother. For the way his friends shot my sister on my fucking property. For Luna… wherever she is.
Akim ripped apart my family limb from limb tonight. He probably thinks he’s won. But now, I’m a man with nothing to lose.
I’m going to be his worst fucking nightmare.
The man with the scar claps his buddy on the back and then saunters around the side of the club. I pull around the block, stopping for drunk girls in heels to stumble across the street. Then I turn off my lights and park at the corner of the alley.
He’s sauntering away from me with his hands in his pockets, heading towards a black SUV parked behind a trash can. When I climb out of the car, I hear his laugh echo off the bricks.
“What do you think Akim will give me for taking out Yakov’s second?” he asks. “Maybe I’ll ask to give Yakov’s woman a ride.”
“If there’s anything left of her,” the other man snorts. “Akim is keeping her close. Maybe he’d consider it if you bring in Yakov himself to watch.”
If there’s anything left of her. I’m teetering on the edge of sanity, rage sizzling under my skin. I’m out of my body—out of my fucking mind—as I thunder down the alley after my brother’s murderer.
He laughs again. Probably for the last time. “It’s not out of the question. I’m on fucking fire tonight.”
“Fire will be if you’re lucky,” I say, raising my gun.
The men turn around as I aim and shoot.
First, a shot through the scarred man’s right thigh. By the way he buckles, I know I broke his femur.
“Fuck!” The other man turns to run, but I shoot him through the side, the bullet likely tearing through both his lungs. But he’s still moving on the ground.
I click my tongue in disappointment, stalking towards the scarred man.
“On a good day, I could hit a man through the heart from this distance with one eye closed.” He’s scooting across the gravel to escape me. As if I’d ever let that happen. I shoot through his other thigh. “Today has not been a good day.”
He howls in pain, but chokes on the sound when I kick him hard in the chest. He falls back and I can’t stop myself. I rear back and kick him hard in the side of the head. Shit breaks inside him.
His eyes flutter and then he’s gone. Still breathing, but unconscious.
“You weak son of a fucking bitch. You didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as my brother.” I grab him by his hair and drag him towards my car. “Soon, you won’t be breathing at all.”
It’s the third bucket of ice water I dump on him that finally gets a reaction.
“There he is.” I throw the bucket at his chest, dying to break the plastic over his skull. “Rise and fucking shine.”
He shakes water off his face and looks around. His eyes are wide, terrified, confused.
Then he remembers.
“Do you know what you’re doing here or have the multiple concussions left you confused?” I hiss in his ear.
It’s been over an hour of this. Breaking my knuckles across his face until he blacks out and then dousing him with water to wake up. Each time, it takes him longer to come to. Each time, I have to force myself not to sever his head from his body while he’s unconscious.
“Tell me where she is and this ends,” I growl.
He snorts, blood dribbling down his chin. “You’re going to kill me either way.”
He’s right. Of course he’s right.
I sigh. “Here I was hoping you would beg for your life.”
“I know better.” He looks up at me through blackened, swollen lids. “I know what I’d do to anyone who touched my brother.”
