Lenin’s almost black eyes lift from my bloody knuckles to my face when I exit the torture chamber at the speed of a bullet. He has his tools at the ready: tarp, industrial tape, and a shovel. I don’t know why he needs the shovel. If I had gone through with my plan as intended, Zariah’s body wouldn’t be buried here. That’s just asking for trouble.
Perhaps the shovel is for me. Lenin knows me well enough to know no matter how deep my hate is, I can’t instill the same level of punishment on women as I do men—let alone the woman I promised not to hurt over a decade ago.
My kill count is high. I’ve ended thousands of lives without an ounce of hesitation thickening my blood, but for some fucked-up reason, I can’t claim the lives of women and children. I’ve always seen them as innocents in the game I’ve played since before I could walk—especially the ones who smell as innocent as Zariah. She has a pure scent, a smell as rare as me issuing a pardon. She either truly believes she has nothing to answer for, or she’s a damn good actor.
I should have ended her life. I came close. When she said she wanted to free Dominique, I saw red. Dominique was nabbed within minutes of her landing stateside three years ago. She was supposed to meet a group of backpackers she befriended when they toured her tiny village in the French alps. They promised to teach her English and show her a life outside of the strict environment she was raised in.
All they did was arrange for her to meet her maker.
Before Vladimir was killed, his palate was diverse. He liked women from all over the world, of all ethnicities and ages, so it didn’t take him long to become besotted with Dominique.
He wasn’t the only one she sparked an immediate interest from.
I should have pulled rank the day I helped Vladimir’s men secure her. My importance in our industry had already peaked, so I could have demanded for her to return to Russia with me that very same day, but for some inane reason, I didn’t. I watched Vladimir’s fascination ignite from afar, certain no woman was worth fracturing ties I had built with the Popovs the prior four years. I was also confident it wouldn’t take Vladimir long to grow bored of her. Once that happened, he’d pass her on to anyone willing to look past the broken gleam his whores’ eyes always held once he was done with them.
That never happened with Dominique. No matter how hard Vladimir tried to beat the spirit out of her, she maintained it. Her fight increased her allure. She never gave in, no matter how low the odds. Even being shipped to a foreign country when Nikolai gifted her to me last year didn’t weaken her determination. If anything, it increased it. I was convinced she saw something in my eyes not many see: the man behind the monster I need to be to maintain my reputation. She wasn’t scared of me, nor did she live in fear of her life. She was free.
That’s why I snapped when Zariah said what she did. I didn’t keep Dominique captive. I freed him from Vladimir’s insanity before giving her options so she’d never have to face it again. She chose to stay with me. She wanted to be a part of my life, so she didn’t need anyone’s help to be free. She already was.
Lenin’s slow, drudging steps to the room I just exited halt when I say, “Send Velika in.”
He dips his chin, his smile not needed to reveal he heard the request I didn’t voice: I’ve given Zariah a pardon. His twinkling eyes expose this, much less the smartassI told you soexpression stretching across his face. He voiced caution when I requested he bring Zariah to the underbelly of our compound, but I couldn’t hear it through the vengeance bubbling in my veins.
I had planned to kill her, but something more than my inability to kill women stopped me. That’s why I’m so frustrated. The softness of her words when she spoke and the way her breathing quickened when she sensed my nearness infuriated me more than they comforted me. They hit me with the same niggling, gut-churning response I got when the Popov crew snagged Dominique. I didn’t act on my intuition that day. I ignored it, and look how that turned out, so I’m happy to use that as my excuse for changing my mind today.
My deliberations wane when Lenin places his hand on my shoulder in silent support. He’s a good man. He’s been my guardian since I was eight. He doesn’t push his beliefs on me; he merely voices his opinion before leaving me to make my own decision. I can’t fathom it being an easy role when you have a custodian as stubborn and as opinionated as me, but Lenin brings what is needed to the table. He has kept me grounded the past twenty years, and he is the only man I listen to in a crisis—excluding tonight.
I’m extra edgy today. Although annoyed I’ve been kept in the dark the past six months, I understand that’s the price I had to pay to tighten my allegiance with Nikolai. You’d think setting aside my quest for revenge so long would have weakened it. It hasn’t. It’s stronger now than it’s ever been. Witnessing first-hand how hard Nikolai and hisAhrenfought for one another strengthened my campaign to right my wrongs. Nothing will bring Dominique back, but every step I take from here on out will ensure I never experience that type of injustice again. Only men with no fear of death will be game to go against me, and even then, they won’t come out a winner.
I crank my head back when Lenin asks, “Shlyukhaorgornichanya?”
“Let Zariah pick. I’m not bothered either way.”
If only the tightening of my jaw reflected my reply. I shouldn’t care if Zariah is passed through my men as the whore of the month or forced to answer their every whim as a maid for the compound, but for some stupid fucking reason, my blood boils more at the former.
When memories of my childhood pop into my head, Zariah always presents as the shy little mouse who followed me like a shadow. There was nothing meek and demure about her tonight. Not even poor lighting could conceal her sweltering frame, and don’t get me started on how she responded when I pinned her to the wall with my body. She reacted how I wanted her to when she was too young for me to be having those kinds of thoughts about her. She was responding as if she was seconds from being mauled instead of having her blood siphoned from her veins.
It equally frustrated and intrigued me.
Not as much as this will, though. “Lenin?”
He stops entering the room to peer back at me.
“Whatever Zariah chooses, keep it from my father.” When his brow arches in silent shock, I add on, “If he discovers he arranged for me to marry a whore, it might be the final push he needs to fall into the grave he dug for himself a long time ago.” With a grin of a man planning to ease his craving for bloodshed tonight, I murmur, “I’d hate for you to steal my fun.”
Chapter 5
Zariah
Thud. Thud. Thud.My pounding head kicks out a new tune when a bright orb stops to stand in front of me. I’m sitting on the floor of the dark room, too scared to leave and too tired to fight through the insecurities plaguing me. Asher left a while ago. It could be an hour; it may be three. I’ve truly lost track of time. I’m hungry, confused, and certain the anger he dispelled earlier was only the tip of the iceberg.
When a blonde with a tiny face and an even smaller waist bobs down in front of me, I blink back my confusion.Where did she come from?
“Does it hurt?” Her accent is highlighted with an American drawl.
I wait for her fingers to stop tracing the mark I’ve felt throbbing in my neck since Asher left before shaking my head. It’s a little painful, but with my confusion at an all-time high, it’s the least of my worries. I was seconds from death—literally seconds, yet fear for my life didn’t enter the equation during my last thoughts. Excitement, hope, and another sensation I’ve never experienced have left my stomach in a curdled mess of confusion.
The blonde smiles while pushing my hair out of my eyes. “Good. It wouldn’t have slowed the men down if it did, but it’s better if you’re not feeling any pain.”
