Page 8 of Savage Little War

Milo screws his face up at me. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I learned a lot about you when I was captive, even when you weren’t talking to me,” I tell him, my eyes not moving from his. “You place so much of your self-worth on your manhood.”

“Are you serious?” Milo scoffs at me.

“You constantly bragged about your conquests to the others. You had girls brought out to the farmhouse,” I say, adjusting my grip on the knife handle. “And you talked about forcing yourself on me every single time you came into the basement.”

Milo glares at me, the amusement draining from his face. “If I had gotten my way with you, there’d be nothing left.”

The corner of my mouth turns up. “When I get done with you, you’ll be nothing.”

Milo flinches hard when I point the knife between his legs. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Where is the smuggling hub?” I demand, moving the knife closer.

“Touch me and I’ll fucking ruin you!” Milo snaps.

“Talk!” I shout back, pressing the tip of the knife against the seam in his jeans.

“Fuck, okay!” Milo yells as he tries to pull back from me as much as he can. “It’s the warehouse on Cheyenne! Behind the custom print shop!”

“I know where that is,” Isaak says from the doorway.

“Get all the information you can about that building and the area around it. We’re going to hit it. Hard,” Dmitri tells Isaak before turning to me. He gives me a nod, a faint smile playing out on his lips. He looks…proud.

I take a deep breath as I face Milo again, trying to calm myself, but he looks too relieved. Like he just saved himself. Like he won’t ever get punished for what he did to me.

That’s unacceptable.

I drive the blade down.

His scream tears through the room but I don’t flinch.

I leave the knife and turn away from him, his cries ringing in my ears. It should disturb me, but he didn’t stop hurting when I cried. Why should I give him the mercy that he never gave me?

Ivan grimaces as he looks away from Milo, his hand moving to shield his groin like he’s afraid he’s next.

Dmitri isn’t fazed. He would’ve done worse. “Ivan, clean up this mess after he bleeds out.”

“Yes, sir,” Ivan mutters.

My hands are shaking when Dmitri takes one and leads me out of the room, not saying a word until he helps me into the backseat of the SUV. He then cups my face and presses his lips against mine. Soft but firm.

I lean into him, adrenaline still rushing through me. Months ago, I would’ve been shocked at my actions, but after what I went through, I’m not the same person anymore.

I can’t be. That woman is gone. That woman can’t survive in this new world that I intend to live in for as long as possible.

Dmitri’s teeth lightly graze my bottom lip, and I hear his breath hitch. He remains close like he wants to continue, but he draws back instead to meet my eyes. “Are you okay?”

“I think so,” I say. I’m not totally sure, though. I just stabbed one of my torturers in the dick without hesitation.

Because of me, he’s going to bleed out and die.

I don’t kill. I’ve always been against cold-blooded murder.

But part of me is starting to understand my father’s words. To survive in this world, sometimes it does come down to killing or being killed. I wanted to believe that I could avoid those rules.

That’s just not possible, especially if I want the ones I care about to survive too.