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)
But what of my men?
I lifted my view and scanned the rest of the room.
My soldiers lined the walls. Many held neutral expressions, while others looked in any direction, but the family. Some even shifted with unease.
And then I found Boris standing in the corner. His gaze nervously darted around the room.
Boris has made some changes. Interesting.
His head was no longer bald. He had grown his dark brown hair out to a curly afro. The hair cast eerie shadows across his face. His once clean-shaven face was now partly hidden beneath a thick beard that obscured some of the tattoos snaking up the top of his throat.
It was a stark contrast to how I remembered him in Italy.
But has he changed his insides too?
When his gaze locked onto mine, I saw him shiver.
A sinister smile crept across my lips.
The air grew colder, as if anticipating the horrors that would unfold.
I kept the sinister smile on my face, lowered the bone saw, and picked up the scalpel. “Come, Boris.”
He widened his eyes.
With the scalpel, I gestured for him to get in front of me. “We have a lot to talk about.”
Chapter 43
The Gift
Kazimir
Boris hesitated for a moment, but then slowly made his way in my direction. He kept his head down, avoiding eye contact with me or anyone else in the room.
Yes.
I glared at him.
Mr. I-want-to-see-the-Mouse-moan. Let us talk.
When Boris was within reach, I gestured for him to come closer. “It has been too long.”
Boris swallowed. “Hello, Kazimir.”
In the background, the gardener’s father spoke. His voice quivered with each word. “Please, I beg you, have mercy on us. We never intended to cross you or your. . .organization. Whatever my son did, it was a mistake, a terrible misunderstanding!”
I turned to the man and watched him.
His wife held her hands in prayer as he continued, “Sir, we have children. Innocent lives. They don’t deserve to suffer for my son’s mistakes. We’ll do anything you ask, just please spare them.”
Another adult on his side struggled to hold back tears. Soon he spoke too, “We can make this right. I’ll work for you, pay you back every penny my brother must owe, no matter how long it takes. Just please, don’t hurt my family.”
More came forward.
Their voices shook as they begged.
“Please, sir, we’re scared. We promise we won’t say a word to anyone. Just let us go, and you’ll never hear from us again.”
“We’ll disappear, start over somewhere else. You’ll never have to worry about us. We just want to live, please.”
The family’s pleas hung in the air.
Their raw emotion permeated the space.
Pressure built in my chest.
I put my view back on Boris. “Do you know about the gardener?”
Some of the family members hushed, probably trying to understand what I was saying. I wondered which ones knew English.
Meanwhile, others whimpered.
Boris cleared his throat. “Maxwell told me that the gardener did sexual things with Emily’s other personality.”
The father gasped in horror.
The mother began loudly praying.
Now you know what your son did.
I nodded at Boris. “Then, you have an idea of who these people are?”
Boris swallowed. “This is the gardener’s family.”
“It appears your time away from us has smartened you up. Yes. This is the gardener’s family.” I raised my hand holding the scalpel and placed it between us. “Tell me, Boris. When you slept in these past months, did you have nightmares?”
His bottom lip quivered. “I did.”
Eager for the next answer, I leaned forward. “And was I in your nightmares?”
With no hesitation, he whispered, “You were.”
I curved my lips into a smile.
Fear radiated off him.
I leaned in closer, my eyes never breaking contact with Boris. “Life is all about choices. Some choices lead to life, while others lead to death.”
In the background, the family’s sobs grew louder. Their cries echoed. Each heart-wrenching sob amplified the tension in the space.
I kept my attention on Boris. “It’s been a while since we’ve talked, my friend. How have you been?”
Boris stirred. “I’ve been good, Kazimir.”
“I had not heard much from you in the days that you were gone.”
“Maxwell told me that I should keep. . .a low profile.”
“I see that. And you have made some changes.” I motioned to his hair and beard with my scalpel.
His breath hitched as I held the scalpel in the direction of his throat.
I scowled. “We had a problem in Italy.”
“We did, Kazimir.” Boris swallowed. His Adam’s apple bobbed under the targeted attention of the scalpel. “However, I am back to make up for that moment and gain your loyalty.”
“Hmmm.” I shifted my scowl to a smile. “I saw your mother and sister last night.”
Boris blinked. “W-what?”
“We were all celebrating the dead. So many have passed and even more will go this year.”
Boris froze.
I turned back to the gardener’s family.
Their eyes widened with terror. They returned to being huddled together in a tight group, as if hoping that their proximity to each other could offer some form of protection.