He’s one tough motherfucker, I thought, watching from the shadows as Dipshit held an open flame to his identical twin brother’s stomach. The man barely fucking flinched. Barely made a sound except for what sounded like a frustrated growl.
For hours, I’d sat there—we’d all sat there, actually—watching the man dangling from the ceiling take a fucking beating without screaming or crying out in pain once.
I mean, shit, I thought I had a high tolerance for pain, but this guy? He was on a whole other level. A whole other fucking planet.
Since my incarceration in that shithole, I’d seen a lot of people being tortured… Myself included. Some of it was very unoriginal.
“Tell me what I want to know!” Punch. “Who sent you?” Kick. “Answer me!” Slice.
When that didn’t work, they got a little more creative. Waterboarding. Electric shocks. Sharp objects under the fingernails. I’m not going to lie, it all hurt. A lot. But no amount of pain would ever get me to talk.
Client confidentiality was a big thing in my profession. If I revealed who hired me to kill Dominik Volkov, it wasn’t only my job I could kiss goodbye, but my livelihood, too. My life.
No one would ever hire me again. There’d be a black mark on my name, saying I couldn’t be trusted. I’d be blacklisted from every event. All my contacts would shun me. And that was only if my employer didn’t kill me first for ratting.
So, no, I was never going to say a damn word, no matter what that bastard put me through.
Was I still salty because Dominik had somehow managed to figure out I was trying to kill him? And thwarted it?
Yes.
Was that one of the reasons why I refused to give him the answers he so desperately wanted?
Yes.
I was petty like that.
A month’s worth of gruelling research, hard work and sucking up to his lackeys, trying to get close to him… All fucking wasted. Not to mention the resources and favours I had to call in to even get the information I needed on him.
When I was hired, I was given a file containing basic details about my mark. Name, age, last known location, a photo so I’d know what he looked like. Anything else I needed, I had to acquire on my own. I dug deeper into his history. I knew he had a twin brother, Dimitri. Knew he had a daughter, Rayna. No wife. A slew of barely legal girls in his harem. Never stayed in one place too long. Was paranoid by nature.
I studied everything I could on that motherfucker. His likes, dislikes, where he got his fucking coffee. Everything.
But in the end, it didn’t matter. He somehow managed to find out what I was up to and stopped me before I even realised what had happened.
I was still bitter about the whole thing. That stupid, ignorant asshole—
“Slab!”
My eyebrows rose in surprise at that harsh, abrasive tone and Dominik’s flinch of fear. I didn’t know what that word meant, but the way it was delivered was downright fucking menacing.
I listened closely as the brothers spoke, studying their interaction for any angle I could use. They hated each other. Clearly.
Dominik was brimming with anger, resentment and jealousy. Dimitri was just angry. So, so angry.
From my vantage point, I had an unobstructed view of what was going on. I could see the blood dripping down Dimitri’s torso. That deep, primal rage hidden in his eyes. The way he looked at his brother with complete and utter contempt.
When Dimitri started to laugh, Dominik struck him so hard across the face that his body swayed back and forth. It didn’t stop the man from continuing to laugh, though, despite how much that must have hurt.
Embarrassed, Dominik stormed out of the room with his goons behind him. The moment he was gone, Dimitri slumped forward, almost like his body was just completely drained of energy. He wasn’t moving, and his eyes were closed.
He’d passed out.
I had to give it to the guy. He’d clearly been on the brink of losing consciousness, but through sheer willpower and determination, he had managed to pull through so he didn’t pass out in front of his brother. His torturer.
As someone who’d been in the exact same position as him not even twenty-four hours earlier, I understood that drive, the compulsion not to let that bastard win. Not to let him see me crumble and break.
Movement made me glance to my left. I rolled my eyes. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
Ana shuffled forward regardless of my words, the chain around her neck rattling. “He needs water.” She was a nice woman. Old—well, older than me, and I was in my early forties. She had a very motherly nature about her. I’d have wagered a bet she was somebody’s grandmother. Fuck, even great grandmother.
My eyes focused back on the old woman inching her way towards the unconscious man dangling from the ceiling. She hadn’t quite spilt the beans on what she was doing trapped in that shithole, but then again, neither had I.
With a sigh, I got to my feet and intercepted her path before she could take another step. I didn’t have to go too far. She moved slower than a fucking turtle. I took the small bowl filled with her water ration for the day and walked the few steps back to her spot on the wall, placing it back on the ground.
She gave me a smile that showed barely any teeth. Just all gums.
Seriously. What could a frail, old woman like her possibly have done to Dominik to warrant being trapped down there?
I was dying to ask, but I knew I couldn’t. It would open the door for her to ask the same question in return. My business was nobody’s business.
“You’re a nice girl, aren’t you? Deep down, behind that rough and tumble exterior.”
“I’m really not.” She was just ancient, and I had a soft spot for the oldies.
I took her by the elbow and led her back to her little corner of the room. We all had them. The chains around our necks were long enough to provide us with the ability to stand and stretch our legs. They definitely weren’t long enough to reach the staircase at the opposite end of the room.
I knew. I’d tried.
Along with myself and Ana, there were two others. A guy who called himself Wink—real name unknown—and Veronica, a shy young woman who spent more time crying than talking.
She annoyed me, if I was being honest. But I was trying to be empathetic because I was sure the situation would be hard for normal, everyday people to handle.
“Normal” was a ship that had sailed a long time ago for me, and it didn’t even have anything to do with the fact that I was essentially a gun for hire, which I was well aware was far from ordinary.
Even from a young age, I knew I was different. That my mind and emotions just didn’t work the way everybody else’s did. Things that should have affected me didn’t. Like when my older brother died. I didn’t shed one fucking tear. Though I’m pretty sure that was because he tried to rape me when I was eight.
My parents had called me heartless.
“How can you not care that your brother is dead?”
“What kind of monster are you?”
It wasn’t like I killed him. Fucker had died in a car accident. But when I heard the news, I just shrugged and went right back to cutting the heads off all the Barbie dolls my mother insisted on buying me, even though I told her I didn’t fucking like Barbies.
My parents chucked me into therapy, where they told me I had the personality traits of a psychopath. A little extreme to tell a ten-year-old, but whatever.
After I helped Ana sit back down, I went over to where Veronica was. There was a tiny bit of light illuminating the room from the single light bulb dangling over Dimitri’s head. It was barely enough to see where I was going, but I’d been in that room for so long that I’d mapped out each direction I was able to go.
Veronica scrambled away as I neared, begging me not to hurt her. To please let her go, like I had any fucking say in what was going on there.
Idiot.
I picked up her small bowl of water and, with cautious steps, approached Dimitri’s unconscious form. His entire body hung limp, the only thing keeping him upright being the metal cuffs no doubt digging painfully into his wrists.
I pursed my lips, studying him carefully. There was no denying that he was an attractive man. Dark hair with spatterings of silver. Sharp, angular features. Strong jawline. Narrow nose. Full lips.
Even though he and Dominik were identical twins, there was a clear difference between the two—at least, as far as I could tell.
Where Dominik had quite a haggard appearance—like he’d aged well beyond his fifty-four years due to stress—and a noticeably smaller build, Dimitri had the body of a twenty-year-old frat boy and the face of a finely ageing Henry Cavill. Bulging muscles. Hard, defined abs. Powerful chest and big, broad shoulders. It was clear that he worked out. Kept himself in incredible shape.
Was it twisted that my lady bits did a little dance at how fucking hot he looked with all that blood dripping over him?
Probably. Oh well.
Almost as if sensing my presence, Dimitri jostled awake, his gaze snapping to me. There was a brief moment of disorientation, his brows creasing together as he took me in.
Then, he fucking attacked me.
His hands wrapped around the chains holding him to the ceiling, and he lifted himself up, swinging his leg in a powerful arc, aiming for my head.
“What the fuck?!” I shrieked, barely managing to rear back in time and avoid the strike.
The chain around my neck snapped taut and propelled me back towards him. He swung again, this time with the other leg. I ducked underneath it, cocked my arm back and socked him right in the mouth.
“Will you cut it out?! I was just trying to help you!”
Dimitri spat out a mouthful of blood, glaring at me. “I didn’t ask for your help,” he grunted, voice like granite. Then he struck out again with another kick.
I dodged it—barely—and backed up so I was no longer within his reach. “Excuse me for being fucking hospitable,” I spat. “Fuck ya, then.”
That’s the last time I try to do something nice.
Without another word, I marched back to my corner and spent the rest of my time awake scowling at him through the darkness.
A short time later, Dominik returned, absolutely brimming with anger. He made a beeline right for his brother and punched him in the face. Dimitri’s head snapped back, his laughter ringing in the air.
“Let me guess,” Dimitri started, eyes lit with amusement. “You tried to negotiate with my son. My release in exchange for Pakhan? Oh, brat, you’re so predictable. I’m actually embarrassed for you.”
Dominik’s face turned bright red. “I don’t know what you’re laughing at,” he hissed. “You boast about this strong family connection you all share, and yet, none of your children would lift a finger to save your life.”
“Of course they wouldn’t. They know better than that. The role of Pakhan doesn’t belong to you, Dominika. It belongs to my son. There’s nothing you can do that will make Aleksandr give that up. It’s his legacy. Not yours. He knows to never negotiate with you, not even to save my life.”
Dominik pounded his fists into Dimitri’s torso over and over again in a frenzied, bloody rage.
I had no idea what was going on, what they were arguing about, and I didn’t care. I rolled over and went to sleep.
