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“Kneel,” Rico’s commanding voice comes from the recording.
Since I have this entire video memorized, I know that, on the screen, I’m just now lifting the phone and holding it so that it’s filming Mikhail.
In front of me, the white-painted front door opens to reveal none other than my little doe.
Alina jerks back, more in surprise than fear, and blinks at me in genuine shock. As if she didn’t think that I would ever dare to simply stroll up to their front door and ring the doorbell.
“Beg,” Rico orders on the video.
Alina’s eyes dart to the screen, and then grow impossibly wider when she sees that it’s a video of her brother kneeling on the ground.
“What’s going on?” Konstantin calls from somewhere inside the house.
On the video, Mikhail presses out, “Please.”
“Better,” Rico demands, his voice as commanding on the video as it was in real life.
“Please, Hunter. I’m begging you.”
“For what?”
“Mercy.”
Alina stares at the screen in stunned silence while four people scramble into the hallway behind her.
Konstantin, Maksim, Anton, and Mikhail arrive right in time to hear Mikhail’s voice on the video say, “Please. I’m begging for mercy for my brother.”
Rage pulses across all of their faces as they barrel towards me.
Pausing the video, I flash them a vicious smirk.
Alina leaps out of the way with a yelp as they reach us.
Then a jolt pulses through my face as Mikhail drives his fist into the side of my jaw with enough force to snap my head to the side.
I saw it coming but didn’t bother blocking. Pain doesn’t really faze me anyway.
Instead, I keep a tight grip on my phone as Mikhail grabs me by the collar and hauls me into their hallway. A bang sounds as Anton slams the front door shut while Mikhail practically throws me at his cousins.
Yet again, I don’t bother doing anything about it. Because I know that I am the one who holds the real power here.
The twins grab me, locking their arms around my shoulders and throat to keep me trapped as Anton snatches the phone from my hand and Mikhail punches me in the stomach. I clench my stomach muscles beforehand so that I’ll keep the air in my lungs.
A snarl rips out of Mikhail’s throat when he doesn’t hear the huff of pain that he expected.
He slams his fist into the side of my mouth instead, making the edge of my lip split.
I flash him a cocky, blood-soaked smile before sliding my gaze to Anton. “How’s your arm, little Petrov?”
Mikhail drives his fist into my stomach again.
Letting the pain just fade through my body, I simply shift my attention back to Mikhail.
“Aww, are you upset that I didn’t ask how you are too? Let me remedy that,” I say, making my voice drip with sarcasm. Then I fix him with a mocking look. “How are your knees doing after all of the groveling you did this afternoon?”
His fist cracks into my jaw again, snapping my head to the side.
“I will fucking kill you, you slimy son of a bitch,” Mikhail growls at me.
