Page 76 of The Bait

Asher also didn’t want to bring Istomin’s focus onHarry on the off chance he was still alive. Surely, he knew Asher’s one weak spot was Harry.

And Yunho, yes. He loved Yunho. He did.

But Harry... Harry was the entirety of Asher’s world. That was never clearer to Asher as it was in that moment; sitting next to Yunho in this bunker, facing certain death. Sitting alongside the man he thought of as family, an older brother, a father. Asher’s mind kept an ironclad hold on Harry.

He clung to the hope that Harry was still alive. It was the only reason he had to keep going in that moment. No matter what came next, what he was about to endure.

If Harry was still alive, then he’d endure it.

If he were to learn right then that Harry was dead, Asher’s reason for living would die with him. He’d once thought if he lost Harry that he’d burn the world to the ground, to avenge his death with nothing but fire and fury.

But the truth was, he wouldn’t. He’d simply crumple to the ground and wait for death to find him. He wouldn’t fight it.

Hell, he’d welcome it.

“Let’s start, shall we?” Istomin said. He waved a man over. A stoic, hard-faced man, that Asher recognised? He wasn’t sure... until he spoke in that raspy, larynx-injured voice.

The same man who’d kidnapped Yunho and Lucas. He’d killed Aranya and Narong.

Larynx. Asher wanted to kill him, very much.

Larynx took out a knife from his thigh holster, similar to what they’d used on Rozga in the tunnel, and waited for Istomin’s next order.

“Which body part shall we start with?” Istomin said. “Which appendage would he miss the most?” Then he acted surprised. “Perhaps his tongue, after he spoke to the media today. Hmm,” he seemed genuinely unsure of which part of Asher’s body to mutilate first. “Ooh, I know! His index finger. A sniper without his trigger finger is like a snitch without their tongue, am I right?”

Fuck.

“I told you,” Yunho said, crying and shaking his head. “I will tell you whatever you want to know. Don’t touch him, please.”

“It’s okay,” Asher said to Yunho, needing to placate him, to comfort him.

Istomin smiled at Yunho. “Did you hear that? He said it was okay. Though I’m sure he wouldn’t think that if he knew what you’d done.”

What he’d done?

“How you betrayed him?” Istomin added.

Asher didn’t want to hear it. Not from him. If Yunho had betrayed him, then he’d hear it from Yunho.

Istomin turned his attention to Asher and smiled. “Do you know how easy it was? Yunho’s a genius, yes. But he’s also a little freak who can’t leave his house, so you know what that makes him? A creature of habit. Meticulous. Routine, routine, routine. And a sitting duck, unable to leave.” He shook his head and clucked his tongue. “Careless, careless, careless.”

Istomin made a distasteful face at Yunho and then he pretended to shake, like an epileptic. “God, he’s such a freak. Absolute basket case. We had to keep him sedated so he didn’t seizure himself to death or hyperventilate, choke on his own tongue.”

“He needs medication,” Asher said. This asshole was going to die, Asher would make sure of it.

“And you,” Istomin said. “You’re just as predictable, Asher,” he added, clearly enjoying having centre stage. “I knew you’d come to rescue him. I knew you would, like I know the sun will come up in the morning. So predictable. So many people wanted you dead but none of them knew how to get you. When it was really very simple. All I had to do was capture your precious Yunho, and it would lure you right in.” He brightened. “Then imagine my surprise when it turns out you have a lover. Someone you love more than your precious Yunho. Someone you’d want to settle down with in your little house, play the gay wife, and pretend you weren’t Asher Garin. Well, guess what. You don’t get to pretend that you didn’t kill all those people. And you don’t get to pretend that you didn’t kill Sergey Volkov and ruin our plans six years ago and take every fucking cent of our money.”

Wait. What?

“Who?” Asher asked.

Istomin grabbed Asher’s hair and yanked him backwards. The chair couldn’t move because it was bolted to the floor, so Asher’s neck strained painfully. His face appeared above Asher’s, straining and angry, his dead eyes ice cold. “You know damn well who.”

The truth was, Asher had killed a lot of people, ruining a lot of plans. He didn’t remember them all. He tried to remember which job six years ago. Russian, at that...

Oh.

There was a Belarus job about six years ago...

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