Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 148949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 745(@200wpm)___ 596(@250wpm)___ 496(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 745(@200wpm)___ 596(@250wpm)___ 496(@300wpm)
“I must say, Maxim.” I scanned the space. “I am always impressed when I visit.”
“It was my father’s aim to provide our clients with a beautiful and dignified place to say goodbye to their loved ones.”
“He did a good job.”
However, I wondered how much of the décor was due to Bogdan’s artist wife, Alina. On the walls, someone had painted realistic images of angels flying amongst the heavens.
Did she do that?
“The space I am taking you to is our most popular viewing room.” Maxim beamed with pride. “It can hold up to two hundred guests and has state-of-the-art audio and video equipment.”
“You have chosen well.”
“Nothing but the best for the Lion.”
I nodded.
Minutes later, Maksim escorted us into the large viewing room.
Natural light streamed in from the large windows, illuminating the space in a warm, golden glow.
Instantly, I caught sight of my torture tools—blow torch, pliers, ice picks, sledgehammers, and so much more. A thrilling sensation surged through me.
I rubbed my hands together. “Very good job, David.”
To my shock, he stirred.
Then, his face returned to that canvas of concern.
I will not worry about him. David will soon understand that I am right, and Baba is wrong.
I returned to scanning the space.
Next to my table of torture tools, three beautiful caskets lay in the center of the room—each one was a masterpiece of craftsmanship.
Plush chairs and floral arrangements surrounded the caskets.
And several feet away from the caskets, a family of ten huddled together and sobbed. Their faces were a mixture of fear and desperation.
I put my full attention on them.
They inched away and trembled.
David sighed and got to my side.
I studied them.
The family had blonde hair just like the gardener. Today, their faces were pale as if they had lost many nights of sleep, and their clothes were ripped and dirty, as if someone had dragged them through a field.
“Enjoy, Kazimir.” Maksim gave me a half bow.
“I plan to enjoy myself.”
Maksim left.
I spotted the middle-aged couple in the center of the trembling family.
This must be the idiot’s parents.
The older man was over six feet tall. He had his arms wrapped around what I assumed was his wife, who could not have been more than four feet tall. Tears flew freely down his cheeks.
I tilted David’s way. “The gardener said his mother was sick. She does not look sick to me.”
“I am sure he lied. Had I been in his position. . .I might have lied too. . .just so you would not kill me.”
“Hmmm.”
Another woman on her side turned her head toward two teenagers. Fast, she shoved them behind her, looked at me, and whimpered. “Why are you doing this? What do you want? We will give you anything.”
I ignored the woman and put my view back on the gardener’s mother. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying.
Meanwhile, the other adults who could have been the gardener’s siblings or cousins began to one-by-one beg for their lives.
A tall blonde woman dropped to the ground and kneeled. “Please, we still do not know what our brother Konstantin has done to put us in danger. How can we make up for this?”
Tension thickened in my shoulders.
“We will do anything!”
“Kill me and let the rest of my family go!”
My jaw tightened.
“We have a house. It is yours!”
“There are children. Please do not harm them.”
Pushing their pleas out of my mind, I approached the long table covered in my tools, picked up a pair of white plastic gloves, and slipped them onto my hands.
One of the family members shrieked.
David’s phone rang. Sighing, he pulled it out, checked the screen, sighed again, and went to the side to answer it.
I eyed him.
That better not be Baba causing any trouble.
I looked back at the family.
One man stepped forward. “Please let my parents and all the children go. If someone must die, let it be me.”
I hesitated for a moment, feeling the cold sweat forming on my brow.
Clearing my throat, I checked the table again. My heart pounded like a sledgehammer in my chest.
The gardener’s mother cried, heightening the sense of dread in the space.
To my surprise, the sound caused my hand to shiver a little.
An example must be made.
I picked up the bone saw. Its sharp, serrated edge glinted menacingly under the light.
The women whimpered.
I ran my fingers over the cold metal, acutely aware of the weight of the tool and the gravity of the task that lay before me.
A chill ran down my spine.
I assessed the saw’s teeth.
Without looking their way, I could feel the family’s nervous gazes on me. I could even sense their bodies tense with apprehension—their breaths hitching as they struggled to suppress their own rising panic.
For some reason, the room seemed to close in around me. The atmosphere grew heavy with dread and uncertainty.
The family’s unspoken question hung in the air—as heavy and oppressive as the darkness rising within me. Surely, they wondered if any of them would make it out of this nightmare alive.