Page 96 of Lord of Justice

Her husband sleeps on the opposite side of the mansion in a separate wing. Of course. Elana strolls to her suite, humming as she takes out her earrings. When she turns on the light, I'm waiting in a chair by the window.

"I believe we have something to discuss."

Her scream is shrill. For a woman who isinvolved in profoundly evil activities her security was surprisingly light. And now they’re dead. The arrogance of being a Supreme Court Justice has made her think that she's invulnerable.

"You hurt my wife," I say, calmly, mildly.

She's frozen, shaking in her glittering dress, like any cornered vermin.

"I don't know what you're talking about." It's an impressive attempt at sounding innocent, but she knows she's cooked. In fact, cooking might become part of my plan for her.

Standing, I stroll towards her, hands in my pockets. "You hid your tracks well," I say conversationally. "I had thought you were selling women as domestics. I just couldn't find the proof. Not enough, anyway. But a baby factory… Thatisthe height of depravity." I whistle long and low. "Then you truly fucked up by kidnapping my wife and her sister. By gloating over her pregnancy. If Iris suffers any complications, I cannot begin to tell you how you will suffer."

Elana's red lipsticked mouth, garish against her pale skin, is slack and trembling. "I didn't. I - no, you’re wrong!"

"Shut up. It is past time for talking. You have been judged. Your sentence will be a long one."

Sedating her would be practical, but less fun. Ihook my arm around her throat, tracking her pulse and pupil response carefully. She doesn’t get to die before she suffers every second of pain and fear that can be drawn out of her.

She collapses like a bag of wet cement. I let her lay at my feet for a moment and consider throwing her out of the window, into the gleaming, neon blue of her pool. If she woke, I could keep pushing her back under for a long time before she drowned. But that would be too fast.

Tossing her over my shoulder, I jog down her stone terrace steps, ensuring she will wake in pain as well as in terror.

When Elana regains consciousness, she's not alone. Carlisle Sinclair snores, handcuffed in the chair next to hers, drooling. We moved them to one of our family summer homes, in an area that is very quiet this time of year.

"Release me!" she screams, her bravado back.

"I am curious," I say. "At what point in your life do you become so arrogant that you can't contemplate anything less than absolute immunity for anything you do? When you were elected to the bench? When you started selling girls and babies? Those days are over, but don't worry, you're not dying yet."

She screams again, her heels drumming frantically. “Get me out of these cuffs!"

The noise wakes up Carlisle. His head snaps back with a jerk, "Huh." Awkwardly wiping his face on his shoulder, he blearily looks around.

"I had to sedate him," Nikandr says sourly. "Why didyouget to kidnap the skinny one? I had to knock him out and then pick his giant ass up and drag him down the stairs."

"Sorry, brother." My apology is insincere, and he knows it. "I'll make it up to you."

"How?" he demands.

"I'm certain you'll fuck up somehow, quite soon. And it will be left to me to clean it up, just like our childhood."

Nikandr makes a noise of disgust, sourly folding his arms.

Trofim opens the door, "Excuse me gentlemen, thePakhan…I mean, thePakhansare here."

Dmitri walks in, perfectly suited despite the hour, with a look on his face that could freeze lava. Uncle Maksim enters after him. A terrifying pair.

Oddly, Carlisle perks up. "Maksim!" he shouts. "Your family has gotten completely out of hand. In the old days when we did business, there was none of this bullshit. Tell them to let me go, eh?"His face is red, and he's leaning forward as far as his bonds will allow him. "We’ll make a deal."

"You misunderstand," Uncle Maksim says, picking a bit of lint off his suit and flicking it away. "I’m merely here to enjoy the show. You were always an avaricious piece of shit, Sinclair. Nothing more."

"Are you confident in the arrangements?" Dmitri asks. He knows I'm confident. He knows I'm meticulous.

"Yes,Pakhan.”

"Do you feel that you are recompensed for this crime?" I hear the intensity in his low tone, knowing that he feels the same rage I do. I smile, broadly. Even in ice-coldPakhanmode, Dmitri looks unsettled.

"Oh, yes."