Page 72 of Savage Truce

Anastasia jerks from the bang, then says, “The guy you shot is the one who loved making me crawl, and the other one watched me while I worked. He repeatedly made comments about cutting off pieces of me, and one night when I was washing the dishes he pushed my head into the water until I passed out.”

When four in total are singled out, my voice is deadly as I growl, “The rest of you can get back to work.” Glancing down at my wife, I ask, “What did the other two do?”

“They hit me.”

“Stay with Sergei.” I walk to the first one, and while Andrei and the guards make sure the other three stay put until I get to them, I stop in front of the fucker.

He avoids making eye contact with me, but then makes the mistake of glancing at my wife.

“Remember her?”

He shakes his head. “No, pakhan.”

“She’s Yegor’s granddaughter. The woman you all starved, degraded, and beat.”

Finally, a light goes on behind his eyes, and he frowns.

Then I add, “She’s my wife.”

All four move at the same time, trying to duck past us, but I hook my arm around his neck and haul him right off his feet before slamming him down on the ground.

Not needing to say anything else, I begin laying into him with my bare fists while Andrei and the guards keep the others pinned face down.

The memory of the woman I love more than anything cowering in a disgusting pen and barely hanging onto live flashes through my mind, and I punch the fucker so hard I accidentally crack his skull, killing him.

Shooting to my feet, I stalk to the next one, and not bothering to say a word, I burn more of my anger by beating him to death.

Just as my guard hauls the one I shot to his feet, I kick it from under him and shout, “Crawl, kusok govna!” The gunshot wound to his leg makes him drag the limb, and I kick him again. “I said crawl.”

“I can’t!” he dares to snap angrily at me.

I slam my boot so hard into his gut that he rolls before falling onto his back, then I keep going until he passes out. Turning around, my eyes lock on the one who almost drowned her, and stalking to where Andrei is restraining him, I grab him by the scruff of his shirt and drag the fucker, who’s protesting and begging for mercy, all the way to the kitchen.

I haul him onto the large steel table, and when he tries to scramble off while I search for a knife, Andrei stops him with a fist to the nose.

Finding a nice meat cleaver, I turn around, and when I notice Anastasia standing in the doorway, I say, “It’s going to get ugly, moya krasavitsa.”

“I know.” She wraps her arms around herself. “I need this.”

Nodding, I focus on the fucker again as I stop beside the table. “My wife told me you liked to threaten her.”

“I’m sorry,” he shouts in Russian.

I bring the cleaver down on his left arm, but the thing is so dull, it only goes in an inch or so. As the fucker screams from the pain, I have to hack at his flesh to get a piece off.

Picking up the bloody mess, I shove it into his gaping mouth, growling, “Here’s your piece of flesh to chew on. Let’s get you something to drink as well.” Once again, I grab him by his shirt collar and drag him to the sink, and while I shove his head under the water, I glance at Anastasia and ask, “How are you holding up, moya krasavitsa?”

“Okay-ish.” Swallowing hard, she looks a little green, but she doesn’t let that stop her from watching as I drown one of her demons.

The bastard has a good set of lungs on him, and it takes a few minutes before he stops struggling and his body slumps against the sink.

When I let go, he slides to the floor with a wet thud, and to make sure he’s dead and not faking it, I pull out my gun and put two bullets in his head.

“Having fun?” Andrei asks when I walk past him to check if the other guy has woken from his nap.

“Too much,” I mutter. When I reach Anastasia, I wink at her before heading into the main section.

“Can you just shoot him?” she asks as she follows me. “This place gives me the creeps, and I’d like to go home.”