Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 90084 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90084 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
“I don’t want him,” I whisper, trembling, and lean forward to press my head against his chest. He’s warm and his heart is so steady like this is something he does all the time.
“I’m offering him to you for revenge. Kill him yourself if that will make you feel better. Order me to kill him instead if you can’t do it or if that won’t bring you peace. He’s yours, and I’m your instrument in this. Tell me what you want.”
I glance to the side. Arsen’s watching us with pure terror in his face. His mouth is pulled into what looks like an aborted scream, and he’s struggling against his bonds, but he can’t get loose.
I think about killing him. I picture what that would feel like.
But I’m not a murderer, and it would stay with me in a way it wouldn’t stay with Valentin.
“Keep him,” I say, looking back at my husband. “That’s what you want, right? He’s useful?”
“He’s useful,” Valentin confirms. “His father will likely want him back. He’s a bargaining chip. He can also be a trap.”
“Then keep him.”
“Are you sure?”
I stand on my toes and just barely reach his mouth with mine. “I’m sure. Thank you for the present.”
“You’re welcome, malishka.”
We kiss for another few seconds until Arsen’s voice ruins the moment.
“You two are sick,” he says, tone trembling. “You’re fucking sick. My father is going to kill you both, you sick, twisted fucking psychopaths.”
Valentin sighs and pats my ass. “Go now,” he says, turning to face my cousin. “I have work to do.” He walks to the table and picks up a wicked-looking knife.
“What are you going to do?” I ask him, genuinely curious.
“I’m going to ask him questions. He’s going to answer truthfully, and if I don’t believe him, I’m going to hurt him. We’ll be busy for a while.”
“Wait,” Arsen says, staring at me. “Wait, Karine. Hold on. Please, don’t let him do this. We’re family, right?”
I feel my expression flatten as I look at my cousin.
“You tried to kill your own aunt,” I tell him. “Valentin’s all the family I need now.”
“No!” Arsen wails as I walk back through the plastic. “No, Karine, please! Come back, don’t let him do this. Don’t let him do this!”
He screams in agony as I leave the utility room and shut the door behind me.
All noise is abruptly cut off.
I consider heading upstairs, but instead I find a big, complicated remote, make myself comfortable on one of the media room couches, and start figuring out how to put on a movie while I wait for my husband to finish talking with my cousin.
Chapter 31
Valentin
Ihave to admit, the boy holds out longer than I expected.
When I caught the kid, I figured he was just some pampered fucking asshole.
But as I carved him up, careful not to remove any fingers or mark him in any visibly permanent way, I got a feel for his mettle.
Arsen’s not soft. No, he’s not soft at all. He’s got other scars from a dozen other painful sessions, possibly sessions like the one we had. I don’t ask him about those, because I don’t care, but it’s clear he’s not weak, and that wasn’t his first time, far from it.
I can respect that.
Unfortunately, sooner or later, everyone breaks.
I’m tired when I finally emerge from the basement after finishing a second session with the young man. Anton’s waiting for me at the bar with a cup of coffee brewed and ready, though it’s only lukewarm at this point. A college football game’s playing on TV.
“You’ve been busy,” he comments.
“The boy gave me some good information.” I drink my coffee and sigh. “Where’s my wife?”
“At the hospital visiting her mother. She left a little bit ago.”
“That’s good.” I crack my back and lean forward on my elbows. “There’s going to be more blood.”
“Did he give you locations?”
“And names. Lots and lots of names. I’ll pass along everything to the brigadiers and they’ll follow it up. If the boy’s lying—”
I shrug slightly. Karine showed him mercy, but I will not. If Arsen lied to me, again and again, and sent me chasing after ghosts, he’ll pay for it very dearly.
My wife is not soft. I watched her stand up to a hardened Bratva killer at a table of other ruthless monsters. She didn’t balk when she saw her cousin tied up down in that basement, even though she knew what would happen to him. Instead, she curled up and fell asleep outside the door, and didn’t seem bothered when I emerged smelling like sweat and blood.
No, she’s not soft at all, but she cares about people still.
There’s a crucial piece of me missing. I’ve always known it. Where most people care about their fellow humans, I find myself bored by them more often than not. Anton’s the rare exception; beyond him, I’ve had few friends.