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“Bullshit! They knew what they were getting into when they got into this business. You know that,” he objects, a swirl of his previous defiance surfacing. “They served their purpose when we took them out.”
My blood wants to boil. Those men had families. Children. They were loyal to my Bratva. And these motherfuckers executed them in cold blood.
“Served their purpose, huh? How about I make you serve your purpose, mudak?” I snarl, the pliers an inch from his face. “Where should we start? Little finger?”
Ivan’s lips tremble, his eyes squeezed shut. The struggle in his face is a visual representation of the internal battle between self-preservation and loyalty to his family. He’s been trained well to withstand interrogation, I’ll give him that.
But not well enough.
Finally, he opens his eyes. “We… we picked up a couple of your shipments. Nothing big time. My uncle didn’t want you to know that we’re behind it, so we went for the smaller cargo.”
I nod, my grip on the pliers loosening slightly. “Good boy. Where did you get your intel?”
Ivan’s eyes whip around the room, his mind racing. I can almost see the wheels turning as he calculates his choices. Too fucking bad he doesn’t have any.
Finally, he takes a deep breath. “You know that already. You had Avants here when we iced him. He was our inside man.”
I know that alright. Theo Avants’ brain wasn’t blown out for no reason. But the fact that his daughter had to witness her father being murdered like that makes my blood boil all over again.
Ivan’s story checks out, though. Except I know there’s more to it. A lot more. I flex my hand in front of his face, the pliers making a metallic sound as they open and snap shut.
“Tell me what Avants gave you,” I snap. “I’m getting tired of asking questions!”
His eyes are glued to my hand as he answers, “I… I don’t know the details. I swear. All I know is that he was feeding Uncle Vlad intel on your business. He was well paid for it.”
I heave a sigh, but don’t say anything. Keeping a straight face, my hand snaps out, raising the pliers to his left hand.
“Net pozhaluysta!” Ivan screams in terror. “Your operations! Shipments, routes, security measures! Avants was a world of information. He even told us where you live and where to hit your estate. That’s how we took him out. His own information lead to his death.”
I eye him coldly for several long seconds until he’s squirming in his seat. At least he’s telling the truth now. But it’s ironic that Avants is the one who told them where I live and how to penetrate my security. The motherfucker signed his own death warrant with that.
I rub my eyes and glance at Dima from the corner of my eye. Ivan’s still not telling me anything I don’t already know. This shitshow keeps dragging on and my patience is getting thinner by the minute. I need to make sure he spills everything. He could easily be playing smart, by telling me what I already know so that he won’t compromise his uncle’s operations. His trembling victim act could all be for show.
Besides, Avants wasn’t the only one feeding them intel. And my instinct tells me that somehow, she is also involved. I just know it.
It’s time to change my strategy.
“Did the intel from Avants get you to our drop-off this week?”
His brows pull together. “Drop-off? What drop-off?”
“Don’t bullshit me, Ivan. You know exactly what I’m talking about. We’ve had that deal in play for years. Now, within a week of Avants going down, we get hit. Where is she, what did she tell you?”
“She? I don’t know who you’re talking about.” He’s still frowning. It would almost be convincing if I didn’t know what a snake this kid really is. Petrov’s men are animals. His family members are even worse. Ivan Petrov didn’t earn his ranks in the game without getting his hands dirty in the worst ways possible. Drug distribution networks. Child trafficking. Organ trade. And the list goes on.
“Fine. Patience ran out,” I quickly open the pliers, grasp his left forefinger, get a grip on his nail, and pull sharply.
“Aaaaaah! Jesus! Fuck!” he screams, twisting against the ropes holding him in his seat. “Idi na xuy husesos!”
“Memory coming back yet?”
“I told you, I don’t-” He gives another piercing scream as I rip another fingernail off.
“We had our man at the drop-off. One of your people must have followed her and got there before she arrived. Where the fuck is she now?”
Sweat is prickling on my skin, but it’s not from exertion. It’s the adrenaline. And the knowing that this idiot deserves everything I dish out. For the first time in weeks, I can step away from the sea of confusion I’ve been swimming in since Tiana arrived, and focus on something I know and understand. It settles me.
“Fuck you and your Bratva Vyronov! Trakhni tvoyu mat'. Fuck you all!” he sneers.
