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I crouched in front of him, wagging the barrel of my gun in his face instead of my finger. “I warned you. What happens next is because you didn’t listen.”
He laughed darkly. “You gonna cut my ear off this time? Go ahead. Either way, you’re fucking dead. You hear me? I don’t give a shit who you work for. You and Sergei and all the other Russian fucks in this city are going down.”
“Wrong on all accounts,” I replied, getting to my feet as Valery and Anton dragged the Fosters’ children into the living room. “Put him here,” I pointed to the spot I’d just been occupying, directly in front of Ken.
Blood dripped from the young man’s mouth and nose but he continued to struggle in Valery’s hands, trying to fight back. Valery kicked his knee out from behind and shoved him down on his knees, driving his pistol into the back of his head.
Beside them, Robin and her daughter wept, clinging to each other and looking helplessly at Ken, as if he would do anything to save them.
“Did you tell your wife why I came the last time?” I asked, stooping in front of Robin. Using the barrel of my gun, I pushed her dark hair back. Though it had been salvaged, her ear was still red and angry, pocked with white scars from the stitches.
“Fuck you,” Ken spat.
I kept my gaze on his wife, watching her sob harder the longer I spoke. “Did you tell her all about Marek? Does she know the reason she and her children are about to die is because you are a fucking animal? Does she know all of that? Hmm?”
Crouching in front of her to get a better look, I tipped her head back with the end of the gun and kept it tucked under her chin. “Did he tell you, Robin? All about the rented apartment? The drugs? The way he abused the object of his obsession? How he cut him with knives? Raped him? Made his life a living hell? No… I can see in your eyes he didn’t. But I’m not surprised. That’s the measure of the man you married.”
“Please don’t kill my children,” she whispered.
“It’s too late for mercy.” I stood slowly and nodded to Valery.
Their son’s head ruptured from behind, splattering blood and brain matter over his parents.
Ken screamed. Robin and her daughter howled.
I nodded to Anton. In the blink of an eye, he put a bullet in the daughter’s head. Maxim followed suit and dispatched Robin in a similar fashion.
Watching his family get annihilated in less than ten seconds turned Ken into a stunned, shaking, blood-covered mess. He tried to scoot backward, away from their dead bodies, but he couldn’t get far with the couch behind him.
I slid my gun back into its holster and withdrew my knife, brandishing it beneath Ken’s nose. “You don’t get a quick death, you sick fuck.”
Maxim leaned over Ken from behind and slapped a strip of duct tape to his mouth. As soon as he was muffled, I jammed the knife into Ken’s right shoulder, approximating Marek’s scar.
The duct tape held, quieting Ken’s scream as he pitched forward. Maxim hauled him back into place by the back of his shirt so I could give him a matching wound on the other side.
And then I kept stabbing. Not frenzied. Not rushed. Slow and methodical, purposely avoiding major organs and arteries. For once, I hoped Marek’s face was on his mind. I hoped he regretted every single moment he’d spent abusing him, every single moment he hadn’t treated him like a prince. Because that’s exactly what I was thinking about. Each stab, each fresh gush of blood was like a balm for my soul. It wouldn’t undo anything that had happened to Marek, but I would know Ken had suffered immensely for it, which is the only penance an animal like him could hope to have.
I lost count of how many times my blade slid into his flesh. The ring of blood in the carpet seeped out toward me, edging around my shoes until each step squished, and my shoulder ached again. But just like carving up Alonzo, there was no way I was going to let anyone else step in and dole out a punishment that was mine alone.
When the light finally started to dim in Ken’s eyes, I stabbed him a final time in the hollow of his throat and ripped the blade to the side, silencing his pitiful gurgle. Since most of his blood had already drained out in other areas, the blood that spilled from his neck did little more than soak the remainder of his shirt.
Exhaling, I wiped the knife off and sheathed it. I fished a jump drive out of my pocket and turned, setting it on the coffee table in plain sight.
“Is there a pen and paper?” I asked, glancing around.
The three of them scattered. Anton found a Sharpie in one of the end tables in the living room and Maxim held up one of the Christmas cards from the mantel with a small shrug.
“Perfect.” It was the Fosters’ Christmas card, including a beautiful family portrait of all four of them, together for the very last time.
I wrote out a simple message for whichever agency felt like unraveling my New Year’s present to them.
YOU’RE WELCOME
Setting the card next to the jump drive, I gestured toward the front door. “We’re done. Let’s go home and enjoy New Year’s Eve, shall we?”
“What’s on the drive?” Anton asked as we headed out the door.
“Everything Eduard found on that asshole. Proof of how corrupt he was. How many violations he’d committed within his own office, the bribes, the fraudulent activity.”
