Page 64 of Essence of Fear

He knew.

Wasn’t that bad enough?

“Well?” Vadim demanded, glancing up. “Speak, I know you can.”

“He’d be kept alive, but throughout the weeks, he would lose pieces of himself—tips of fingers, then down to the knuckles. Strips of skin. His ears. Toes. Nose. Lips …” Pav swallowed the thickness in his throat, refusing to show how hard his heart was beating or the fact that it ached with each and every one. “Anything we could take without him dying, that’s what we would do. And only once that was done would he die.”

“And about how long would this process take, Pav?”

Fuck you.

Fuck you to hell.

“A month, give or take a week,” Pav murmured.

Vadim nodded and smiled again as he peered up at him from his bagel. “Was he a good father to you?”

“Yes.”

“Did he smack you around or shout a lot?”

“Never.”

Not even once.

Vadim shrugged one shoulder, before biting his bagel. He chewed, swallowed, and then muttered, “Sometimes, I would have them record you in the chambers as you cried … when you were alone in the dark, asking for him … and we would let him watch it over and over before we took something else from—”

Pav was fast to get up from the table then, his hands already reaching out to grab Vadim and choke the fucking life right out of him. He would kill this man right there, with that bite of bagel still slipping down his fat throat, and he wouldn’t regret even one second of it. To his credit, Vadim didn’t look at all surprised when Pav came at him. If anything, the man looked amused.

The thing that stopped him?

The sound of a door slamming.

Pav looked over his shoulder in just enough time to see Viktoria crossing the grass. She wore a flimsy dress that danced around her legs with every step she took. She’d let her icy-blonde hair down, and it flowed over her shoulders and back. In her arms, it looked like she was carrying a blanket.

“She does this a lot,” Vadim said. “Never sleeps at night, and then takes a blanket on a walk with her in the mornings. Have you noticed? I have. Same time every day.”

Had the man planned this? Did he know what would happen? Pav couldn’t think on it for long. He had other things to consider now.

Vadim.

Viktoria.

He had a choice to make.

It was an easy one.

Pointing a finger at Vadim, Pav uttered, “Another day, Vadim.”

The man smiled back—unafraid and cold to his core.

Evil, really.

“Just because they’ve removed the collar and chain doesn’t change what you are, Zhatka. You are, and will always be, a Boykov dog. Don’t forget it.”

11.

THE WATER of the creek bubbled over the shiny rocks that barely broke the surface. Viktoria couldn’t remember how she’d found this creek that ran through the back of her father’s estate the last time she’d been here, but it was a calm place. One had to go off the cut trails and hike a few minutes into the forest to find it and, as far as she knew, the men who watched the house didn’t deviate from the pathways.