Page 75 of Lord of Justice

He unbuckles his belt. “I’m sure he won’t mind if I have a taste.”

No. He's dying now.

Leaning in a bit more, I catch the girl's eye in the mirror. She sees me, her mouth open to scream. I place my finger to my lips quickly. Nodding at her. Willing her to understand that I won't hurt her.

This could fuck up everything but I can't wait.

He follows her gaze to the mirror, spinning around almost instantly. I shoot him in the mouth, the bullet traveling up, blowing out the back of his head. I take three huge steps into the room and grab him just before he falls, not wanting them to hear his body dropping to the floor downstairs.

The girl is shuddering. "Vy ponimayete menya?Do you understand me?" I ask. She nods shakily. "I'm here to help you. There will be other people coming." I eye the chain around her ankle before looking around the room. The heartless fuck has left the key dangling just out of reach where she could see it, taunting her.

While I'm unlocking the cuff, she's still straining away from me, terrified. But she doesn't move. She doesn't speak.

"I must go downstairs now and finish this," I sayslowly, precisely. "If you scream, if you make any sound, you will endanger us both.” She nods rapidly, her watery eyes never moving from mine. "If you are quiet, you'll be taken out of here to safety. You'll be cared for. You will be free. I swear it." She nods again. "Go into the bathroom now. Shut the door and lock it. Don't come out."

She gets off the bed, creaky, like she hasn't been allowed to walk for a while, wobbling into the bathroom, looking at me one last time before she shuts the door. I hear the light click of the lock.

I head back down the servant's staircase, the last guard is passing the kitchen, I inch down the remaining two steps, my booted feet light. The old wood steps creak too easily. He's making his way back, zipping up his fly. I shoot him in the back. I'm not quick enough this time. He's too far away, and he falls with a comical look of surprise, thudding face down on the carpet.

Fadeyev's sharp voice calls out. "Yurik? What are you doing?" He walks out of the great room wearing tight red bikini underwear and a silk robe, flapping open. He has a gun in one hand and his phone in the other.

I'm close enough that this time I don't shoot. I just charge him. He watches, stunned, for a second before he gets his gun up. I break his wrist before he can get a shot off, kicking the gun out of his reach. He slams his elbow into the back ofmy neck and I fall flat. Fadeyev's wiry, but he's got a lot of strength. He kicks me viciously, and I roll over, slamming my fist into his knee, cracking it inwards, he drops with a howl.

Now, for the moment I live for. I'm on top of him, pulling out my knife.

I’m too eager, sloppy. He’s got a knife too, driving it up toward my chest. I grab the blade, it slices into my palm as I twist his wrist, breaking it.

Holding up my KA-BAR, I show him his horrified reflection, blood streaming down my arm. He bucks violently upwards, nearly unseating me before I slam my elbow against his throat.

The hall fills with his croaks and gurgles as I work on him. The stuff of nightmares. Things that cause inexpressible agony.

I enjoy every second.

Allowing myself a bit longer this time, I take an hour.

He is conscious through all of it.

Eventually, the only thing left in front of me is a pile of steaming guts and flesh. Even with him dead, I can't stop, I slash the curtains and the furniture. I drive my KA-BAR into the TV, shattering it. I kick his head into the corner like a soccer ball, then hold it up on my knife, observing it.

I call Trofim. "I'm finished. There's a girl here,rescue her first before setting fire to the house." There must be something wrong with my voice, because there's a moment of silence.

"Are you all right, boss?"

"Yes." It comes out in a low sibilant hiss, which can’t reassure him.

Melina is next. "Yes, Mr. Morozov?"

"In fifteen minutes, bring Iris out to the back of the house. Wait outside the gates. I'll contact you then."

Melina is silent for a moment. "Are you… certain, Sir?"

"Are you refusing to follow my orders?"

"No, Mr. Morozov. Not at all."

Hanging up and cocking my head, I eye the severed lump of what was once Fadeyev.

"I always wish I could make it last longer," I tell the head. "There’s never enough time." Flicking the head off my knife, it flies across the room, rolling to a stop by the sofa. My shirt was ripped during the fight, I pull it off, wrapping it around the wound on my palm.