by V. F. Mason
I couldn't reach him on his phone, because it was off, so I had no choice but to board the plane while he probably had no clue we left.
I just hoped he wouldn't be angry with me once he found out, but I had a feeling the man would make me regret it.
Sighing in frustration, I kissed my baby on the head and picked my work back up, hoping it would take my depressing thoughts away.
Radmir
Gleb grabbed my shoulder, stopping me from entering the warehouse, and our gazes met. Yuri and Petor smoked behind us near the car. They’d already given up trying to talk some sense into me. Misha just sipped his tea, sitting on the bench and reading newspapers as though it was a fucking picnic.
Gleb held my stare for a minute and said, “Do whatever you need, man, but remember your family.” Slapping me on the back, he finally got out of my way, and I walked in, my boots stepping heavily on the concrete floor, echoing through the place.
As always, the only light bulb on was in the ceiling so it could shine brightly on the victim who sat on the chair, tightly roped around his middle, his eyes blindfolded and his legs in manacles chained to the floor. He breathed heavily, as sweat drenched his white shirt and perspiration could be seen on his forehead.
“You cannot do this to me!” he shouted, and I almost chuckled. That was all he had?
Removing my jacket, I threw it on the table and rolled my sleeves up while putting on a black apron. I didn't fucking need his blood stains on my clothes. Putting on latex gloves, I examined the table full of devices, especially the new ones I’d ordered for this special day.
Collection of knives, bolt cutters, clamps, hammers. Different injections that could either bring euphoria or madness, and drugs. Matches, waxes, even live ants that could crawl inside his most intimate places and bring hell.
Nothing was off limits for a man who believed revenge was his given right.
“You will pay for this,” the fucker shouted again, and this time I spoke.
“I wouldn't pose useless threats, Ben.”
He froze when he heard my voice and then began shaking the chair violently, but it wouldn't budge under him no matter how much he tried. “You will go to prison for it, Radmir. Touching me like that, I will ruin you,” he snarled, but I just chuckled at his anger.
He did entertain me, which was always a plus during torture.
“If you live long enough to tell.” He froze as I picked up a sharp, serrated knife and stood next to him. His jaw twitched as the rapid beating of his heart became evident from his chest heaving as if he’d run a marathon. I leaned closer to his ear, so he’d hear everything. “I was going to spare your life, so you’d get to live with all the scars, remembering me till the day you die.”
He breathed heavily, gulping air in fear, as I brushed the blade over his back, ripping his shirt open and exposing the skin. Then without warning, I dug it deeper and pressed down vertically, creating a deep wound that dripped blood. He cried out in agony but couldn't move away from the torture. Next, I poured salt on it, so it would sting more and fester. Shifting to the side, I punched him in the gut with all my might, causing him to groan and start gagging. I went back to the table and chose bolt cutters this time.
“Please, Radmir. I’ll do anything you want.” Smirking, I grabbed his hair painfully and pulled his head back.
“Okay. I’ll consider it.” Clicking my tongue, I added, “But you will give me the information I need first.”
“I don’t know anything. I swear.”
“Ben, Ben. I must have gone easy on you, since you still lie.” He could have made my life hell in prison just for the fuck of it or simply because he didn't like the Bratva members. I could almost believe that.
But allowing inmates to beat me without blinking, keeping Vivian away from me, and always trying to undermine my reputation among others? That didn't speak of a personal vendetta.
It spoke of a carefully planned order the guy followed religiously.
Kneeling down, I took hold of his hand, and without remorse, I chopped off one finger as he screamed in agony, the sound irritating my ears, and then I chopped off another one so he wouldn't waste his lungs for nothing. “Do you want to change your answer now?”
He spat excess saliva from his mouth, and I noticed a wet spot on his black pants that disgusted me.
Apparently, you had to grow up in the brotherhood to take punishment like a man.
“I—” he started, his voice cracking through his lips. “I—”
“Unfortunately, that isn't the answer to my question.” He tensed, expecting the bolt cutters again, but instead, I stood up and placed them back on the table.
The fun was about the unexpected, after all.
The gasoline in my hands sounded like a nice idea, so I splashed it over him, and in a minute, the smell permeated the warehouse, and thank fuck for that as it blocked the disgusting smells he had produced. He shook his head wildly and mumbled something I couldn't hear.
“Sorry, Ben. Your speech wasn't coherent enough for me.” I played with the matches in my hands, making them rub against each other, and he paled even more, if it was possible.
Despite everything, he did value his life. Most people didn't even know how much they wanted to live until someone threatened to take it away from them.
As part of my life in the brotherhood, I had taken lives many times, and each time, it hurt me and blackened my heart. Those people just made mistakes, and sometimes they deserved a second chance.
Standing in front of Ben, I couldn't fucking wait to kill him, and no guilt was present. He was an abusive asshole who never married or had friends, because he preferred to spend his time tormenting inmates. Everyone hated him, and as much as I had tried to find redeeming qualities in him, I failed.
“I will tell you everything,” he finally whispered, and I came closer. “I’m sorry for how I treated you.” Rolling my eyes at his fucking bullshit apology, I kicked him hard between the legs and he groaned loudly.
“Who ordered you to do that?”
He swallowed loudly, strength leaving him probably from the wound on his back and missing fingers, but he licked his dry lips and answered, panting, “A man approached me right after you went into prison, waited for me outside the prison, and offered good money if I promised to make your life hell there. I refused, because he looked crazy and young. Who would have such money?” He gulped more air and continued, “He then gave me the check, and the amount made me almost faint. I half expected the Bratva to get out of the bushes and flash a camera on me so they could use it in a trial or something. Nothing happened, so I accepted.”
“What was his name?” Fucking everyone—well, except Conrad, since I didn't care much for his story—mentioned the exact same thing.
“I don’t know. He asked me to call him Director, and since the check came every month, I didn’t bother to ask.”
Director.
As in the man who led the actors, indicating it was all just a show for him?
Then who was I? The fucking audience?
After all, the show was for my benefit.
“Is that all?” I played with the matches again, just to stir him up, but he nodded.
“Don’t know anything else. The only thing he asked was for me to keep you alive. He never wanted you to die, and he was fucking pissed when he thought I organized that ambush on you a year ago.” He quickly pleaded, “It wasn't me. I have no clue who did it.”
He needed me alive. But why? If he hated me so much and liked to inflict suffering on me, wouldn't it be logical to kill me off?
Unless he thought I owed him for something, and my life in pain was his revenge? Nothing was adding up here.
The only person who could have such a desire would be…
Fuck.
Edward Jackson, Vivian’s father.
Everything led to him. He had no alibi for the night, he hated my guts for touching his daughter, and he was rich enough to pay off everyone.
/> I would have considered Alex Jordan, but with his secret life, it just couldn't be him. Yuri found information on him and some photos, and let’s just say the guy was too busy with his own problems to organize all this. At the time of the trial, he was out of the country and came back once the verdict was announced. A person with so much hate toward me would have stayed and enjoyed the show of his making.
My grand finale was always killing the person responsible for my suffering, but how would I kill the father of the woman I loved?
Ben begged, “Please take me to a hospital. I will never tell on you.” I removed the blindfold from his eyes, and he blinked at me rapidly as they adjusted to the light, and I enjoyed the fear evident in them.
“Misha,” I called, and in a second, he entered the warehouse with his gloves on and some liquid shit, because he worked on the torture devices. He wiped something on the floor, while I removed the apron and gloves and put my jacket back on. In five minutes, Misha was done, and he left without a backward glance.
“Radmir?” Ben’s voice trembled as he tried to understand what was going on.
“Whenever I imagined torturing you, you always stayed alive. I just wanted you to suffer your whole life, remembering this day.” He exhaled in relief, but I wasn't finished. “But you hurt my woman. You let her come to me every month and then rejected her. You hurt the most precious thing in this world to me, and for that, you’ll have a painful death, Ben. Because no one hurts what’s mine.” With that, I lit the match and threw it on the floor. The fire spread rapidly and reached his body as he screamed for help.
Closing the door behind me, I put on my shades. The guys already sat in the car, and after I hopped in the Gelenvagen, Petor moved forward as Yuri and the rest followed in another car. When we were a distance away from the place, it blew up, and if it wasn't for the bulletproof cars, we might have felt or heard something.
Instead, all I experienced was fucking bliss that the fucker was dead.
Swiping the screen on my phone open, I dialed Connor’s number. He picked up on the third ring.
“It’s done.”
“DNA?”
“Misha removed it all.”
“I’ll take care of the rest.”
“Connor?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
Connor was an FBI agent who followed the law and didn't engage in the Bratva lifestyle. But he did interfere when injustice happened, and especially when Dominic or Damian asked him. He and his sister were rescued by the twins a long time ago, and they escaped a fate worse than death, thanks to them.
“First and last time, Radmir, just because our justice system owed you one. Don’t ask me again.” With that, he hung up on me, and I chuckled at his attitude.
Justice system.
The joke would be on him when he found out the woman he loved was, in fact, the daughter of one of the most ruthless mafia bosses in Italy and not an FBI hacker as he thought she was.
I’d like to see what he would say then.
“Take me to the penthouse first so I can take a shower and change. Then we’ll go to Vivian.” No way in fuck was I touching my family after this without cleaning myself first.
Resting my head on the seat, peace settled over me as I remembered my family and the time we’d spent together. I’d never known more happiness.
It gave hope for a bright future, a future we were both denied for such a long time. But we couldn't live like this for the rest of our lives. She had to come with me and accept my lifestyle. We were solid, and prolonging this only pushed back the inevitable.
“Yeah, about that.” Gleb cleared his throat. “They’re in Texas.”
“What?” He must be mistaken. My woman wouldn't leave anywhere without telling me first.
“She had to travel there regarding a job or something. They are staying at her parents’ ranch. She called you, but your phone was off, so….” he trailed, and fury rushed through me along with fear.
They were with a man who took them away from me, and Vivian thought it was acceptable?
Not anymore!
“Airport. Call Oleg to get the plane ready. We are traveling to Houston first.”
“First?” Petor asked.
“Then we are flying back to Moscow. Enough of this States bullshit.” Looked like the decision wasn't Vivian’s to make anymore.
Vivian
The huge wooden clock tick-tocked loudly in my parents’ kitchen as Jake rode a horse outside under our handyman, Jackie’s, supervision.
Mom sipped her coffee nervously, glancing between my father and me while he stared into his cup, and I waited for their reaction.
I had just informed them about Radmir and our relationship. They needed to know about changes in my life and the decision I had made regarding our future.
Guilty or not, Radmir had given me a promise a long time ago he wouldn't kill my father. And if he was guilty and he wanted to take it to the law, I would support him in it, because it was the right thing to do. My mind and heart didn't believe it could be true. My father wasn't as cruel. Controlling and ruthless yes, but not cruel.
Radmir was needed back in Russia, because he had responsibilities, and I couldn't keep him in limbo any longer. I loved Russia and could imagine living my life there; the country forever held a special place in my heart. Jake didn't have school or ties here so far, and I could always travel for work. Connie, my assistant, could easily take care of the gallery when I wasn't around.
We loved each other. We had a child. It was time to start living our life without looking back on the past.
“After all this time, he is still your choice,” Dad said, raising his eyes to me, and I could see conflicted emotions running through them.
“He was always my choice, Dad. You refused to see it.”
He nodded, rose from his seat, and I thought he’d just leave, but instead, he palmed my face and pressed his cheek against my hair while wrapping his hand around my neck.
“I cannot stop you, nor do I want to. I’m sorry, baby girl, if I took a part in ruining your life. It was never my intention. Try raising a beautiful princess who follows you around with her pigtails, and then one day, she says she loves a criminal. It wouldn't have made any parent happy, and I refuse to apologize for loving you.” He kissed me on the forehead and walked away, leaving me speechless.
“Despite what you think, honey, we do love you.” I snapped my attention back to my mom, who placed her mug on the table carefully, sighing heavily. “I will tell you what I should have said all those years ago. Follow your heart, and do what you think is right.” She covered my hand with hers. “Just remember you always have a home. You never have to be in the situation we all placed you in six years ago.”
My eyes watered, but I didn't let the tears fall, because they would have ruined the moment.
My parents, in their own way, gave me their blessing to pursue my life with Radmir, even though they didn't support it. As much as I didn't care for what they had to say, it soothed my heart like honey on burning scars, eliminating some of the damage they had inflicted. Despite the past, I never wanted to lose them as my parents.
“Thank you, Mom.” I laced our fingers together. “We can be together in this one.”
She smiled weakly. “I’m not sure your man would want us around.”
Well, that much probably was the truth. He didn't take kindly that they had hurt us. But his Bratva hurt me too, yet he still worked and lived with them.
“We’ll find a way,” I said, and with a nod, she wiped the tears from her cheeks and laughed suddenly.
“Have you seen the new pictures from Tina? That girl drives me crazy.”
Groaning, I covered my face. “What else did she come up with for her wedding?”
“Swans, she wants real swans swimming through like when pigeons fly around, and her pictures taken in the light breeze.”
“They are planning a wedding in June… here. A light breeze will b
e hard to accomplish.”
“My thoughts exactly.” Then Mom’s face got a wistful expression as she placed the dirty mugs into the sink. “Sometimes, I think—” She shook her head. “No, it’s probably just me.”
Frowning at her hesitation, I hugged my knees and wondered aloud, “What is it? You can tell me, Mom.”
She turned around and leaned on the kitchen counter while looking outside through the window. “I feel like she doesn't want this wedding, as if something holds her back. Whenever I ask about it, she closes up on me.”
Thinking back on it, there was truth in her words. Tina was cheery and happy about everything, except the upcoming event. Then again, she had ten months to think about it and change her mind if she wished to. We all liked John, but if she wasn't sure, she shouldn't even consider marrying him. She had enough bad exes to last a lifetime.
I opened my mouth to reassure her that Tina was a smart girl, when Mom gasped loudly and blinked rapidly as if not believing her eyes. “There is a biker out there on the ranch!” Biker? “Tattoos over muscles. Scary. What is he doing here?”
Oh, God.
Quickly running to the window, I found Radmir facing off with my dad as they heatedly spoke about something, and I could practically touch the tension it was so thick between them.
“That’s not a biker, Mama. That’s my man.” I rushed outside, hoping to stop this before it escalated to the point of no return.
Radmir
Stopping the car right in the middle of the dusty ranch, I rested my forehead on the steering wheel, wondering what the fuck was a good decision in this situation.
My insides screamed at me to go beat the shit out of the fucker and then kill him like no one’s business, so he wouldn't ever think about hurting my family or me. A simmering rage brushed my skin as if urging me to listen to myself.
But then another voice spoke, reminding me he wasn't just a man who screwed up and I had the right to inflict revenge on him. He was my woman’s father and my son’s grandfather who, despite everything he did, was still loved by them. Would I be able to look into their eyes if I killed him?
