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“I wouldn’t wanna be Viking right now,” the other soldier said.
“It still beats being thatsukain the garage basement.”
My ears twitched. Who were they talking about?
“Everything’s better than being thatsuka.”
A laugh followed. “All the fucker does is stink up the place. But you gotta hand it to him, he’s still alive.”
“You call that living? They say it’s the doc who’s keeping him breathing.”
I looked at the house. It beckoned me to go back inside, to be sensible. Then I turned toward the garage, my insides clenching. I didn’t know what spurred me on. Perhaps it was anger and despair at how the night had unfolded after my failed attempt to free Elena. Whatever it was, the she-devil inside me insisted that I investigate.
Curiosity killed the cat.
It also led to the discovery of new continents.
I ignored the battle waging inside me and snuck into the garage. I proceeded down the stairs that led into the basement. If Kristoff ever discovered I’d been here, there’d be hell to pay. Then again, I’d aided in Elena’s escape, so he was going to be pissed, regardless.
It surprised me to find the door unlocked. This either meant someone was inside guarding the place, or they had made very sure that whoever was inside couldn’t escape. The door ominously creaked open. A puff of cold air smelling like mold wafted toward me. I rubbed my arms as I descended into a room which resembled a dungeon a bit too much to my liking. Right when I reached the last step, I halted. Should I be doing this? Was it too late to go back? The windowless room was lit by a single light bulb which flickered shadows across the stone walls. The floor was covered in hay. At the far end of the room there were bars that created something resembling a cage.
I swallowed and took a step back up the stairs. Then another one. I didn’t want to know. Just then a piece of gravel scraped under my shoe and rolled down the steps. It was true what they said—losing your sight enhanced your hearing. That small piece of rock sounded as if a boulder had crashed onto the cement floor.
I winced. I was imagining things. No one had heard that faint sound. I could still leave.
Then I heard a groan, followed by a cough. It didn’t sound entirely human, yet deep down I knew it was. In my gut I feared who I was going to find in that cage. I wanted to hide, to run outside, but I’d never run from anything in my life and I wouldn’t start now. My mom had raised me better than that.
Steeling myself, I continued down the stairs. My feet hit the floor, then treaded over hay. It was dry and crackled beneath my feet, making crunching sounds.
The groaning had stopped. Whoever was in that cage had picked up on my presence because the next moment a hand clasped the iron bars. It was scarred and missing two fingers.
I swallowed and commanded my body to turn away from the creature behind the bars, but it refused.
Then a sight from my nightmares appeared. Baldy’s pudgy face. It was mashed against the iron bars. A large gash crossed over where his left eye had once been and was now merely an empty socket. His front teeth were missing. My stomach revolted at the sight and I braced myself with a hand against the craggy wall.
I thanked the heavens that the light bulb didn’t cast enough light to reveal the rest of him. He was shrouded in darkness from the shoulders down.
An old conversation, almost a hallucination, between my doctor and Kristoff while I was fading in and out of consciousness crashed into my mind.
“Do you want me to take a look at…the other patient again?”
“He’s not a patient. He can rot in that basement. Just keep him alive, nothing more.”
“Are you sure? It would be an act of mercy to—”
“Do I look like a merciful man to you?”
Kristoff Romanov was a lot of things, but merciful wasn’t one of them. Men in his line of work didn’t get to his level by showing mercy. I just hadn’t expected his thirst for retribution to run this deep. It had been weeks, no, months, since Baldy had kidnapped me.
I took a step forward into the light. I was prepared for hatred on his face, but I couldn’t have been more wrong.
His one good eye teared up. Bloody, chapped lips tried to speak. I had to get closer to make out any sound.
“Mercy...” His voice was a barely audible whisper.
The man who haunted my nightmares had been reduced to a mutilated, living corpse. I couldn’t help but feel pity for him. Pity, horror, and sadness. I’d known about the flames of vengeance in Kristoff’s heart, but it was a whole different thing to witness it with my own eyes.
The part of me that had held on to a sliver of hope that one day Kristoff would let go of his destructive path withered and died.
