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I had sustained the injuries in a fight with another gang in Chicago. It was bloody and only a few men got away with scratches. The others were so badly injured that part of their bodies had to be amputated. I had lost some very good men that day.
I blinked and walked away from the mirror as the harsh memories faded. It didn’t matter how long it had been, but every time I remembered how hard my life was and all I'd lost to get this far, I felt a faint ache in my chest. It sucks to be alone and not have a woman to come home to. The whores provide relief, but that’s about it. Anyway, all that was in the past, now it was all about finding the envelope. With purposeful steps and one hand in my pocket, I marched to the dark room where the blonde princess was being held.
Two men were standing outside at the door and when they spotted me, they greeted me in unison and made way for me. After I entered, they closed the door behind me, and Alexei was already in the room. He was standing in the corner sharpening knives and other blades.
The princess sat in the middle of the room on an old chair, her hands tied behind her back and her legs tied to the chair. Her head hung low and lay limply at an uncomfortable, crooked angle. Seeing her like this made me feel uncomfortable, it was gut-wrenching, and my pulse quickened. I took a step closer, slipped a finger under her chin, and lifted her head.
“Who would have thought the old wanker had a daughter?” I muttered to myself. And who would have thought that the beautiful girl from the wedding was a mobster’s daughter? She began to stir slightly.
I quickly let go of her chin and watched as she woke up. Her eyebrows twitched and her eyelids fluttered. Then she stroked her lips with her pink tongue, moaned, and mumbled a few incoherent words as she slowly moved her head from side to side.
She looked up at me with narrowed eyes and a frown. Then she tried to move her hands, and that’s when it all started.
Her hands wouldn’t budge from the rope, and she looked even more terrified. She tried again to pull her arms in and free herself, but the rope slipped against the back of the chair and didn’t budge.
She stared at me, her gemstone-green eyes blazing with anger. She smacked her lips and parted them. “What the fuck?” Her voice was low, but her tone firm. “What the hell is this?
Where am I?”
“In my house,” I smirked. “Well, technically, you’re in the darkroom in my house.”
“Darkroom? What are you, a low-budget Batman?”
“You have a good sense of humor,” I replied, sarcasm dripping from my tone.
“You'll respect the boss,” Alexei growled next to me, but she ignored him and glared at me.
“Tell the little cockroach that the adults are talking,” she tilted her head towards Alexei. I had to admit that the girl had balls like no other I'd ever met.
“I’m not sure you have the right to call my men cockroaches,” I grinned, angling my head to the side to scrutinize her. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”
“No, no,” she shook her head. “The question is, who the fuck do YOU think you are and what do you want from me?”
I found her feistiness amusing and cute at the same time, but I kept a straight face and reprimanded her. Alexei brought a chair to me, and I sat down in front of her.
“You want answers?”
“Was that rhetorical?”
“You have guts,” I remarked but remained unimpressed. “My name is Igor Varkov and what I want is what your father gave you, Grace. I can call you Grace, can't I? I mean, that's your name, correct?”
She gritted her teeth and struggled harder to pull her arms out of the ropes, but the chair only clattered against the ground as it bounced, and she grimaced. “I have nothing to give you.
Let go of me, you pervert! If you don’t, I’ll scream this place down.”
“Then scream,” I laughed. “Go ahead and fucking scream. You should know that no one will hear you and no one will come to your rescue. I have you all to myself and I can do whatever I want with you. You’ve already earned yourself a point for calling my second-in-command a cockroach.”
“No,” she whimpered, shaking her head, her eyes glazing over. “No, let me go!”
“No, I can’t.”
“You’re a damn psychopath! You belong behind bars!” she screamed, struggling even harder with the ropes, tugging at her arms, and gnashing her teeth as her small body trembled violently. When she realized that her efforts were coming to nothing, she screamed and sniffled as tears welled up in her eyes.
“You killed him,” she sobbed, “you killed my father.”
A chuckle left my lips and her head lifted to glare at me.
“Yes, I have. I killed your father, and I don’t think I’ll hesitate to put a bullet through your beautiful skull if you don’t give me what I want,” I lowered my voice, and she was visibly taken aback by how ruthless I was. I stroked her cheek lightly with my knuckles and she jerked her head away.
