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Hidden beneath my mansion, this torture chamber has been carefully constructed with high security and soundproof walls. No one will ever discover the horrors that take place in this place.
The walls of the chamber are lined with old, rusted hooks, chains, and restraints, a sinister homage to the Russian prisons of the past. Dim, flickering light casts eerie shadows, making the space feel like a macabre theater of pain. The floor is cold, wet, and stained with the dark remains of countless acts of brutality.
Erik and I stand before the two traitors, one of the men’s whimpers and pleas filling the space between us. They’d betrayed us for money, sold us out to Aleks, who’s become a fucking monster, involved in human trafficking and supplying innocent women and children to pigs masquerading as politicians and businessmen.
The room seems to close in on us, the oppressive atmosphere punctuated by the traitors’ labored breathing and the creaking of the chains. A table in the corner holds an array of wicked-looking tools, their purpose obvious and terrifying. The sadistic history of this chamber is unmistakable, a chilling reminder of what humans are capable of when pushed to the brink.
My blood boils at the thought of Aleks, but right now, I’m focused on these two pieces of shit. My blood is hot with rage, the savage need for vengeance gnawing at my insides. My grip tightens around the handle of my knife, my knuckles turning white.
Mikhail, my runner who betrayed us, sits bound to a chair. The smell of stale sweat and fear hangs heavy in the air. His muscular frame shudders as he finally regains consciousness, the fresh bruises and cuts on his body evidence of the pain we’ve already inflicted upon him.
“Svoloch!” he yells, venom dripping from his words. “You think you can break me? Idi nakhuy! Fucking coward!”
“I should go fuck myself?” I chuckle and shake my head.
Some fools don’t know when to shut up.
He struggles against the restraints, but they’re not giving in. I made sure they’d hold even the strongest of men. The muscles in his arms tense, veins bulging as he fights against the unyielding straps.
“You won’t get anything from me!” Mikhail spits, his breathing labored.
“Don’t you understand, Mikhail?” I say, circling him like a predator. “You chose the wrong side when you decided to help those fuckers rob our cannabis factory. You caused the deaths of two of our men. Now, you’ll pay for that, mudak.”
I can feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins, the savage need for vengeance gnawing at my insides.
“Please, Luka…we didn’t know,” the other man stammers, his face wet with blood and snot. “We didn’t know what Aleks was doing. We swear.”
I sneer at him, the rage in my chest making it hard to breathe. “You knew enough to sell us out, didn’t you?” I spit, the words like acid on my tongue.
Erik, silent until now, chuckles darkly. “You fucked up, duraki. And you know what happens to betrayers in the Ivankov Bratva.” He watches from the corner of the room, his expression cold and unforgiving. The tools of our trade lay scattered on a nearby table. Pliers, knives, and other unmentionable instruments that send chills down the spine.
Mikhail’s breath hitches as I pick up a beautiful Yakut knife belonging to my grandfather, the metal glinting menacingly in the dim light. With a sick smile, I step forward, grabbing him by the hair and yanking his head back. I press the blade of my knife against his cheek, watching as the defiance in his eyes turns to sheer terror.
“You think you’re going to win this war you want to start with Aleks?” Mikhail growls, mentioning my uncle’s name. A surge of anger courses through me.
“I’ll be wiping out Aleks and his men. It won’t be a war. It’ll be a massacre.” I narrow my eyes on him. “This is going to hurt,” I whisper, my voice cold as ice. And then, I begin.
I slowly draw the knife down his face, skinning him with methodical precision. His screams echo off the walls, mixing with gagging sounds made by the man beside him. But I don’t stop. I can’t. Not until they feel the pain they’ve caused, the suffering they’ve inflicted.
But the fucker is tough. I’ll give him that. Even as he peers at me from the ruin that once was his face, I see a glint of resistance in his eyes.
“Do whatever you want to me,” he croaks out, “but it doesn’t change the fact that everyone in the underworld knows that you’re weak. You’re a coward, just like your—”
My vision blurs with rage, my grip on the knife in my hand tightening. With a flick of my wrist, I silence Mikhail, his sentence cut short as he chokes on his own blood, the thin line from my knife on his neck spilling crimson.
The second man, now visibly trembling, pisses his pants. “Aleks is going after a safe house tonight, one where they keep the most vulnerable victims,” his voice pitches high as he finally breaks, desperate for mercy. “Please, I’m telling you everything I know. Just let me go.”
I glance over at Mikhail’s lifeless body, his throat slit wide open, blood still oozing from the wound and pooling beneath him. The crimson liquid has begun to flow towards the feet of the second man, making him sob uncontrollably.
“You think that’s enough to save you?” I ask, my voice dripping with contempt. “You betrayed us. You sold us out to a man who preys on fools like you. And now, you want to be saved?”
His face contorts in terror as he pleads with me, desperate to avoid the same fate as Mikhail. “I swear, I didn’t know what Aleks was really doing! I just thought it was about money! I never wanted any of this! Please, Luka, you have to believe me!”
I turn to Erik, who’s been watching the whole ordeal with an icy expression. “What do you think? Does he deserve mercy?”
Erik studies the second man for a moment, his eyes cold and calculating.
“No,” he finally replies, his voice devoid of emotion. “He made his choice. He knew the risks. There’s no mercy for traitors.”
