Madness (Revenge Series Book 3) (20 page)

“Fast forward several years, and Nikolai remains a trained killer. He was subservient to me, following my orders until the night his brother went missing. Then Nikolai made a choice, and it was the wrong one.” He waves his arms while he gives me a rundown of his history with Nikolai. The tone of his voice is very cool and collected, mirroring Nikolai’s to a tee. The sound is eerie because I know he won’t restrain himself once it’s time to kill me. I silence my thoughts and continue listening.

“Of course, I found out, although he did cover his tracks well. Once imprisoned, I arranged to have him killed, but being as resilient as he is, Nikolai made survived and remained undetected for some time.”

I simply stare at Stravinsky. His jaw moves up and down, words forming, sounds coming from his mouth, but I don’t really care. Stravinsky knows who I am, and sooner or later, this will get really bad. I’m just waiting to get to the part where he says he’s going to kill me. Then I will go down fighting.

“Once Boris was dead, I knew Nikolai was alive, and after a little research, darling, I knew who you were. And my loyal man here”—he motions to Vlad who is still holding my shoulders with his sweaty, firm grip—“filled me in on your role in his attempted murder.”

“What do you expect me to say?” I snap. “You’ve got it all figured out, so why do you care what I have to say?”

“I need to know where he is,” Stravinsky demands, the deep-seated hate for what Nikolai’s done to his crew showing in his eyes.

“Are you worried, asshole?”

As soon as the comment leaves my mouth, Stravinsky backhands me again. That is three times since we started talking. I can feel my face swelling, but I roll it off, showing him nothing.

“I’m not going to ask again. Tell me where that traitor is or”—he reaches into his suit jacket, and from its depths, Stravinsky pulls out a long, eight-inch Bowie that looks exactly like the one Nikolai uses—“this will go through your eye.”

Stravinsky stands and straddles my legs. I am trapped in the chair, my hands cuffed to the arms and my legs pinned by Stravinsky’s body. Vlad moves his hands up to my face, crushing my head between his palms. The blade shimmers in the muted lighting, and as the light dances up the curve, it shows just how sharp it really is.

“Where is he?”

I keep my eyes on Stravinsky’s. I can’t focus on the blade or the thought of it going into my eye. I keep my gaze solely on him and wait for the inevitable. Even if I knew, I still wouldn’t say anything. This asshole doesn’t deserve the satisfaction of knowing where Nikolai is.

A man rushes through the door, frantically speaking in Russian. His tone is urgent, getting the attention of his leader instantly.

A wicked smile spreads across Stravinsky’s face when he connects his eyes back to mine.

I know something bad happened. My gut is thudding against my insides. He has Nikolai. And in what condition is still unknown.

I reach down, tapping into the fury once again, and remain stubborn.

“Fuck. You.” I spit out then brace myself for the pain.

“Defiant to the end, detective?” He pulls his arm back, and I swallow down the terror rising up from my stomach. This is it. “You and your father have that in common.”

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-
T
WO

Nikolai

August 25, 2015 11:18 p.m.

I
jerk my arm back, pulling my Bowie from the jugular of the man in front of me. The blood drips from my blade, bubbling like dew before dripping to the floor.

Cubby pivots on his heels, turning his rifle on the person coming up behind us. He fires the gun, taking the man out from a meter away.

“Which corridor?” I ask as Cubby looks down each hallway.

“They both look the same,” he says. Then the intercom starts to play above us. The sound of it crackles before
his
voice reverberates through the small space.

“Nikolai? Where is my little Nikolai?” his mocking tone rips through my rage and causes it to boil even stronger. “I have a little treat for you.”

I hear the sound of whimpering on the other end. Josslyn. He’s hurting her, and from the sound of it, it is way more than she can take.

“Look at the screen to the right of you.”

I turn and take two urgent steps, looking up at the TV mounted on the wall. When it clicks on, Josslyn is there. She is limp in the chair. Her face is red, and there is blood running down her cheek. Then he appears. My mentor. The man I loved more than my own life at one point.

He has the serrated part of his blade tucked under her chin. Little red droplets of blood start to pucker from the force he puts on the knife.

“Your accomplice was stupid enough to get caught. Now it’s time to face the fire, or she will die.” He lifts the knife and presses the tip into her cheek. Blood runs down her face. She is panting in terror yet trying to remain so brave. Just like when I held her, she is keeping a tough front, but she will soon wither apart. “I’m in the dining room down the hallway, three doors down. Oh, and bring the traitor with you, as well.”

The TV clicks off, and I lose all composure. My fists balled furiously, I slam them into the wall. My sanity is finally gone as the element of surprise disintegrates with the plaster on the wall. It crumbles away, impossible to put back together.

He is finally one step ahead of me, and now the choice I knew I would ultimately be left with is here. There won’t be a way for both of us to make it out alive. My entire goal was to sneak up on Stravinsky, take him out, and then get Josslyn out of here. Granted, I knew there was a slim chance, but I held on to the hope.

Cubby jerks me back, slamming me against the adjacent wall. “Get your fucking shit together, Petrov,” he growls in frustration. “Don’t let a woman get your head all screwed up.”

I push back on him. “Surprise was the only way of getting out of here alive! He knows I’m here, and to torture me, he will kill her slowly.” My gut surges. I want to puke. I am losing control of it all. The thought of seeing Josslyn tortured and maimed is more than I can bear, and I can withstand a lot. I don’t know how to fix this.

“Use your fucking head, man,” Cubby seethes in my face, reconnecting me with the shit-storm in front of us. “He’s not smarter than you, and you’re one hell of a killer. He made you that way. Now use it against him.”

Cubby is right. I am a master assassin. I have been doing this from the time I was a teenager. I have been in tougher binds than this. I will get myself out alive.

The sight of her in so much pain is excruciating, but I will do it. I will save us, and Stravinsky will bleed out after I plunge my knife so deep in his throat it comes out the other end.

.*.*.*.

August 25, 2016 11:23 p.m.

Cubby and I step inside the red dining room and are met by a wall of soldiers. The loyal dogs of Stravinsky swarm us and start removing our weapons. I am patted down, my pockets turned inside out. Every clip, knife, gun—all of it is strewn out on the table as we are ushered over to the sitting area. The fire is crackling in the fireplace where Stravinsky sits in a large, wingback chair, looking like the godfather he thinks he is. To his side is Vlad. Josslyn must not have checked after she hit him to make sure he was dead, but in her defense, she was getting shot at, so I can see why she wouldn’t. Still, it pisses me off. I should have had the sense to check his body. If I had confirmed he was dead, then we wouldn’t be standing here now.

Josslyn is kneeling in front of Vlad while he clutches her hair, exposing her throat as he holds a knife to her skin. She’s dressed in a long, red dress now stained in her blood. She has a large gash on her cheek leaking blood, and the other side her face is swollen and bruised. She has been beaten and cut, but she still looks incredible.

“I will say, my friend, that it hasn’t been easy finding you.” Stravinsky points to Josslyn, and Vlad yanks her head back farther, making her moan out in pain. “And your little slut here didn’t make it any easier.”

He stands from his chair and takes the knife from Vlad’s grip. “Now I will make this easy on you, Nikolai.” Stravinsky drags Josslyn over by her hair and places her back on her knees. She squirms, trying desperately to get out of his grip.

I can feel my own hatred for this man boiling back to the surface. Cubby and I finally reach the small, carpeted area where we are pushed down by the guards, forced to kneel in front of Stravinsky. Their guns are pressed to our skulls, and the pleading in Josslyn’s eyes is almost more than I can handle.

“Now, brother …” Stravinsky pushes the tip of the knife blade into her left shoulder. The blade is so sharp it easily enters, and blood instantly trickles from her wound.

The happiness in Stravinsky’s expression spreads across his face, but there are vengeance and fury in my own.

Josslyn whimpers, her eyes glazed over in tears as her eyes plead with me to take the pain away.

“Does this bother you, brother?”

“I’m going to kill you,” I seethe through my rapid breaths. “I will stick my blade so far in your larynx it will come out on the other side. That’s your future,
brother
.” My chest is heaving, adrenaline surging from one point in my body to the next. I want nothing more than to destroy this man. I want him to feel the pain my brother and his family felt when they were killed. I want the hurt to rocket him to his very core as I stab him over and over again.

Stravinsky pulls the knife from her body then pushes her down to the floor. She curls into a ball as blood drips from her wounds, trickling beneath her. She appears to be getting weak. It wouldn’t surprise me after the last couple of days she has had.

“You will destroy your brotherhood over a coward and his girlfriend?”

I lunge forward, but my frame is immediately rocked back and restrained, and I fight against their hold.

“Your brother was weak, and the only reason I even entertained adding him to my crew was because of you.
You
were the one I wanted.
You
were the kid I handpicked to be my successor, so how do you think I felt when you turned your back on me, on your organization, for your weak brother? If you want to talk about betrayal, Nikolai, that’s betrayal by its very definition.” His voice booms through the vast room.

I calm myself enough for the team of people swarming me to loosen their grip. Thinking about Stravinsky’s words, I realize he is right. I did betray him. I lied to all of them, telling him my brother was killed. I made that choice, so the vengeance placed on me was warranted. I deserved the attack when I was in prison. But to kill my family … That will never be okay in my eyes. Boris killed innocent children, my only kin, and he did it in a heinous fashion.

“Fine.” I lean forward and accept my fate. “Blood for blood—I get it. I betrayed you to save my family. I lied. If you want blood, then take it from me.” My acceptance to die is unexpected even for me, but the conscience growing inside of me cannot allow Josslyn or Cubby to lose their lives.

Stravinsky’s hard mask falls slightly. He is either proud of what I said or shocked.

“Noble, brother. However, I don’t want any more bloodshed amongst our organization. After seeing you and Cubby in action again tonight, I realize both of you are too talented to dispose of. It would be stupid on my part to kill my two best men because I was angry. I can see that now.”

I can see the plan falling together as he speaks. The smirk on his face tells all, and my gut twists because I know who won’t make it out alive.

“So this is what I want, Nikolai.” He kicks Josslyn, and she takes the blow. She has nothing left inside her. “It’s time to take out the trash. She dies. She can’t live because she’s seen too much.”

I clench my jaw more tightly as Cubby turns his head toward me, knowing I don’t what to comply with his demand. What else am I to do, though? I always said, if anyone was walking out alive, it was going to be me. I have been telling myself this since day one. And on day one, it would have been so much easier. However, now it’s next to impossible.

Josslyn awoke something inside of me that didn’t exist before I laid eyes on her. The day I found her, I knew she was someone special. I just didn’t allow myself to feel that until this very moment, the moment when she is going to die.

“Once this is over with, son, that’s it. The hit on your head, expunged. You will be welcomed back into your family and resume life as you once knew it.” Stravinsky connects his eyes with Cubby’s. “Both of you. All you need to do, Nikolai, is dispose of her.”

He takes his foot and places it on Josslyn’s hip, rolling her over to her back. She is covered in blood. Her flush, tanned skin is painted crimson. She has her hand pressing as hard as she can on the wound, attempting to slow the blood spilling from it.

I stand to my feet, and the men behind me start brushing against my back in warning. I pivot, pushing them away from me. My anger is boiling again, and they are the perfect people to take it out on. I am furious because of what will happen next. I know what I need to do to survive.

Unlike Josslyn, I can’t live a normal life. Hell, I don’t even know what a normal life is. This is all I know: the killing, planning, standing beside my mentor. It is what I’m good at. I can’t do anything else.

This is not how I wanted it to go down, but it may be the only way to save my skin.

I walk to the dining room table and look at all the weapons spread across it. Our guns, knives, and grenades wouldn’t give her a swift death. Then the needles cross my sights. Cyanide, of course. . It’s time to put it to use.

I pick up the syringe with the red stripe across the top and uncap the sharp edge. I pluck a white flower from the vase in the middle to signify her dying is not what was intended since she is innocent. It signifies that I will mourn her for the remainder of my life.