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While they head in one direction, the rest of us walk through the door leading into the garage. Two of our men are sitting in the corner onkeep the bastards aliveduty. It’s an unpleasant job, and that’s whyit’s been given to our lower-level enforcers. If they want a better job within the Bratva, then they need to earn it. It just so happens that earning a higher position means they’re going to be hosing piss and shit off the Lebedev brothers. Everyone has to prove his worth.
“Miss me?” Konstantin groans and levels the one eye that can open on my smiling face. “You’re not looking so good.”
I’m being generous. He looks like absolute hell. All his fingers and toes are cut off, the wounds cauterized, his nose has remained broken along with several ribs, and one of his shoulders dislocated the last time I was here and Pyotr had to pop it back into place. Osip isn’t looking much better. I’ve gone easier on him, but not by much. He does still have all his toes, though, so there’s that. Both men are hanging naked from their bound wrists. The dick that raped the woman I love is shriveled and nonthreatening at the moment. I’m going to remove it at some point, a process that I’ve been very open with him about, but I’m not doing it today. I like keeping him in suspense. I like that he worries about it constantly.
I take out my new knife, enjoying the fear I see in his eyes. He’s wondering if today is going to be the day I cut off his dick. Continuing to keep him in suspense is tempting, but instead I laugh and shake my head. “This blade is way too sharp for that, Konstantin. When I cut off your dick, it’s going to be with a very dull knife.”
Lev pulls a couple of lawn chairs over so he and Vitaly can sit and watch.
Stepping closer, I eye the burnt stubs of his fingers. “I know you’re hoping like hell an infection will kill you, but I’m not going to allow that to happen, not yet anyway. I’m not convinced you’ve suffered enough.”
He lets out a pained groan. His cracked lips part, trying to form words, but he’s exhausted, dehydrated, slowly starving, and in an immense amount of pain. That combination doesn’t inspire chatty conversation, so I forgive him for making me wait as he forces out the strained words.
“Please kill me.”
I laugh and playfully smack his face. “Not just yet. Alina says hi, by the way.”
“We’re sorry,” Osip groans from beside us. “We’re so fucking sorry.”
“You are now, yes,” I agree, “but we all know you’d still be happily raping and abusing her if we hadn’t caught you.” I look over my shoulder at Vitaly and Lev. “Makes it feel a bit insincere, doesn’t it?”
“It does,” Lev agrees.
“Feels a bit insulting to me,” Vitaly adds, shaking his head like he’s disappointed in them before taking another drink of his coke.
“What about you, Konstantin? Are you really fucking sorry, too?”
He watches me from his good eye, and I can see the hate in the look, but I also see the acceptance. He knows this is the end, and all he wants is for me to get it over with. The last thing I want to do is give him that satisfaction, though, so I raise the knife, dragging the tip of the blade up his forearm. The knife is deadly sharp, and his skin parts like I’m unzipping it, exposing the raw, red meat beneath. Blood pours from the wound as he grits his teeth and groans. He doesn’t want to scream. He fights it more than Osip does, but he always loses the battle with his pride. They all do, eventually.
I finally get my screams when I drag the blade down the back of his calf, nicking his Achille’s tendon before I pull back. The sound echos through the garage, bringing a smile to my face as I turn my attention to Osip. Like usual, he breaks before his brother. I’ve barely cut a path down his arm before he’s screaming and crying like a damn baby.
“I’m embarrassed for you,” Vitaly tells him. “If your little dick wasn’t hanging out, I would’ve sworn you had a pussy between your legs.”
Lev laughs, and Osip has just enough time to hear it before he passes out. The cuts I made are still bleeding freely, desperately in need of stitches, so I walk over to the first-aid kit I have set up in the corner and grab what I need. Osip wakes up when I pierce his skin with the needle and starts screaming again. By the time I’m finished and pouring vodka on the long line of black stitches, he’s close to passing out again.
Konstantin keeps his jaw clamped shut while I sew up his calf, and when I get to his arm, his one blue eye watches me sew him back up. I can actually do a really good stitch, but right now I’m not concerned with doing a good job or making it look nice. This fucker’s getting the quick-and-ugly method. The stitches are crooked, tied too tightly, and there’s not enough of them, but it’s keeping him held together and that’s all I care about. I meet his glare when I pour the vodka on the cut I just made, smiling when it pulls a scream from him.
“It just never gets old,” I tell him with a laugh, lifting the bottle up and taking a drink. I wipe my blade clean while Vitaly and Lev finish off the bottle right as Dominic and Danil walk in. They look between the two men who are a little closer to death than they were an hour ago. Dominic steps closer, eyeing Konstantin, and when he rears back to punch him, I don’t stop him. I let him have his hit, but when he pulls back to do it again, I grab his arm and stop him.
“Let me go,” he hisses, talking to me but keeping his eyes on the man hanging beside us.
“No. He’s mine to kill, not yours.”
“He’s responsible for what happened to my sister,” he growls, trying to pull his hand free. I hold on tighter.
“He is, and I let you have a hit because of it, but he won’t survive the beating you want to give him, and I can’t let that happen.”
Seeing a sliver of hope, Konstantin laughs and says, “Did I fuck your sister, too? I don’t remember any feisty Italians, but when you fuck enough pussy, it all starts to run together.”
I grip Dominic’s hand tighter, waiting for him to meet my eyes. When he does, they’re filled with pain and rage and a sanity that’s threatening to quickly slip away.
“He wants you to kill him. He never touched your sister, and we both know it. You have your name, and you’re going to get your revenge, but I can’t let you end this fucker’s suffering. I’m not done with him yet.”
It takes a few seconds for the rage to clear, but finally he gives me a small nod right before I feel his hand go slack. He stops fighting me,and when I let him go, he takes a step back, obviously not trusting himself to stay within striking distance of the man he’s dying to kill.
Dominic points a finger at him, and this time his expensive suit isn’t doing shit to hide the killer he actually is. No one could look at him now and see him as anything other than a ruthless mafia boss.
“Your Bratva is gone, your legacy is gone, and when Matvey finally allows you to die, everything you spent your life building will die with you.”
