Page 11 of Fractured Ties

And to add to his point, Konstantin actually dared to say, “Are we doing this or not?”

Kolya clicked his tongue.

Always ruining his fun.

“You never did appreciate good torture,” Kolya muttered.

“Because you would be here all day,” his brother returned.

“That’s the whole point.”

Like his own personal brand of therapy.

Konstantin could do torture, and was decent at it, but Kolya had a way of taking it to the next level. And honestly, if someone didn’t step in to reel him back, he could fucking lose himself in the act, too.

Like an animal.

Baser needs came out to play.

He was the predator.

They were the prey.

Needs that delved into the deepest recesses of his mind—where right and wrong didn’t live, and goodness never touched. His moral compass had always been broken to begin with, but when he was in that state, he didn’t even know words like morals existed.

“Just so we’re clear,” Kolya told Ivan as he aimed the six-inch blue flame toward the man’s face, “this is happening because you’re a fuck up, and the boss is tired of dealing with your shit, Ivan. I could go on a rant and make a point, but that’s what it boils down to. I’m sure you understand, yeah?”

Ivan’s instincts made him jerk away from the flame—or try. Kaz’s hold kept him pinned against the pool table.

“Feel free to watch the show, yes?” Kolya called to the few others in the bar. “I’m sure it’ll be … a productive experience.”

His gaze swept the people.

He didn’t see her, though.

The black-haired, blue-eyed sprite of a woman.

Maya.

A part of him was grateful, though he wondered which fucking door she’d darted out of, and when. Another part of him was pissed for reasons he didn’t even understand.

After all, he’d come here to strip a man of his stars and end his life. That was business as usual for Kolya on any given day when Vadim didn’t want him working some deal or overlooking the Compound where their real cash was made.

So to speak.

But he’d only decided—like a switch flipping off in his brain—to really make it fucking hurt for Ivan because of the way he’d spoken to his daughter.

Kolya figured it might do the woman some good to see a man answer for his misdeeds of disrespecting her, even if that man was her father.

But what did he know?

Later.

Business right now.

He would deal with the rest later.

Kolya slipped a metal knife from his pocket—he didn’t like to heat up his obsidian blade when doing so might compromise the integrity. Flashing the blade at a wide-eyed, shouting Ivan, Kolya sneered as he stuck the blade into the hot flame until it was morbidly red, and ready to use.