Eager to get that side of the festivities started, I say, “Let me make sure I have my facts straight, Lester. You’ve never heard of Zoran Davis, and you don’t know where he is. Is that correct?”
He can’t answer me since he’s gagged, but he has no problems nodding even with a rope burning his jugular. He’s tiptoeing on a chair like Justine did mere seconds before Vladimir kicked it out from beneath her a year ago.
I’ve always had a fascination with adding a personal touch to the shakedowns Nikolai passes down to me. Sometimes you have to put the sick fucks through the pain they’ve made others experience for them to grasp exactly how fucked-up they are.
It’s a theory I’ve been running since Nikolai discovered the real reason K was ‘supposedly’ purchased by him. Achim didn’t gift K to Vladimir because he wanted Ana back. He did it to get to me. He had no clue there were two separate entities being run under the Popov name during the planning stage of his ruse—Nikolai’s and Vladimir’s.
Finding Vladimir was easy, but Nikolai and his crew’s location was a lot harder. Nikolai kept Clarks’ location wrapped up tight, knowing a hidden bunker was one of his strongest assets, second only to the love of a good woman.
With Ana’s inclusion in Vladimir’s arsenal of sex slaves going unnoticed by Nikolai’s second-in-charge who Achim was convinced had a fascination for blonde-haired, blue-eyed women, K was microchipped without her knowledge, then gifted to Vladimir with the hope therealwoman from my dreams would bring me out of hiding.
In a way, Achim’s planned worked. It just took weeks longer than he would have liked.
K was his favorite whore, and for every day he was without her, his quest for vengeance grew more rampant. That’s why he organized K’s mocked sale. If Nikolai hadn’t fallen dick first in love for his defense attorney, he may very well have collected the woman he’d unknowingly handed over one point two million dollars for—or better yet, he’d send his second-in-charge.
K confessed to messaging Achim on my phone as drummed into her during their many chats about how she’d be released from his ‘service’ the instant she handed over Ana, but flight plans prove Achim was already on his way to the US long before K had sent her text. The instant the chips in K and Ana’s shoulders were picked up at a second location, Achim’s plan was activated.
I’ll give it to Achim, he was smarter than he looked. He didn’t want to instigate a war with a man he knew he’d never win against, so instead of hitting Nikolai’s compound alone, he sided with one of his enemies. His plan was almost foolproof. No one in Alexei’s crew knew about their once-off merger, and Achim left no evidence he was ever at Clarks.
He just forgot one vital part in his equation.
The significance of a woman who can make your heart thud in your ears.
I had my skull cracked open with a tire wrench. I died twice on the way to the hospital, and three times on the operating table, yet, the faintest scent of rain on the horizon had me remembering eyes the color of an ocean and a grubby, underfed face.
K brought me out of the darkness, taught me how to be gentle, and how I can forgive even if I never forget.
She also showed me only the most damaged cocoons produce the most stunning butterflies.
She’s stronger than she has ever been—both mentally and physically. She can put Eight on his ass when they go a handful of rounds in the ring, eat like a trucker, and can climax without crying.
The latter part of my confession was her biggest challenge, but I’m pleased to say she overcame it. I’m sure there are days she’s tempted to tiptoe back into the dark, but for the most part, she’s here, with me, always at my side.
I’ve been trying to loosen the invisible lead I curled around her ankle nine months ago, but it’s a slow process. Eight has taken her for the occasional drive when he’s collecting supplies, and the once-whores-now-cooks steal her away from me as often as possible, but anywhere I go, she comes with me.
Even now, she sits on the entryway table, swinging her legs like the effortless movements won’t irritate the tattoo Jarmon finished for her earlier this week. Her tattoo is beautiful. It’s a phoenix that goes from the exit wound of the bullet that ripped through her shoulder blade seven years ago to the tiny grazes on the lower half of her stomach from when Vladimir dragged her down a glass-littered hall by her hair.
K’s favorite flowers are mottled throughout the bird’s long tail feathers that hug her enticing, yet still tiny curves. They add a touch of color to a symbol known for rebirth, life, growth, and longevity.
The tattoo was K’s idea. Everything she’s done the past nine months has been her choice. The size of her tattoo, its placement, and its design were purely her decision. As was the tiny diamond stud hidden by the tender folds of her pussy.
Jarmon wasn’t given the pleasure of piercing K. She wanted me to do that. In all honesty, I was opposed to the idea at first. I didn’t want to hurt her any more than she’d already been hurt. It was only while recalling the reason for my many tattoos and piercings did I change my mind.
K doesn’t look at herself and see beauty. She sees scars and irreversible damage.
Her piercing didn’t make her feel more beautiful, but it brought her out of her shell and broke away the ugliness she thought she was shrouded in so she could commence her metamorphosis.
I doubt she’ll ever peer at her reflection and understand how truly beautiful she is, but I’m hopeful one day she will believe she’s worthy.
Annoyed an insolent man is keeping me from stepping K closer to that day, I pierce the tip of my blade into the shriveled skin around Lester’s cock. He’s uncircumcised, or should I saywasuncircumcised. He’s not anymore.
“This is your last chance, Lester. My woman is waiting for me. Her time is precious, so I suggest you stop acting as if it isn’t. Where. Is. Zoran?” I space out my last three words to ensure he knows his balls are next on my hit list.
“P-P-Puerto Rico,” he stutters out, his words pushed through a howl from my blade jabbing his walnut-size nut.
“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”
“P-Puerto Rico,” he repeats, louder this time. “He’s at a vacation home in the name of his old mistress. I can get you the details. I have them stored in my phone.”
