Page 116 of Sinful Games

“You gonna fill me in on why he’s here or what?”

“Nah,” I shrugged, cracking my knuckles. “This is personal.”

Volk gave a nod, dropped his legs, and stood up, flicking his cigarette to the floor. He gave me a quick pat on the shoulder before heading out. I plopped onto the edge of the table, propping myself up with my hands behind me.

“Oh, Sadiek,” I sighed, shaking my head as I looked at him squirming in the chair Volk had tied him to. His arms, legs, and torso were all securely bound, with a thick strip of tape over his mouth to stifle his noises.

“Thinking you could run away, huh?” I sneered, closing the gap between us. “Did you forget who the hell I am? I’m Alexsei fucking Romaniev. I could track you down anywhere, even if you were hiding in the most godforsaken corner of the world. Wanna know why?”

He shook his head frantically, sweat dripping from his forehead.

“Because I’m your reaper. The only one who can end your pathetic existence is me. Just me.”

His struggles against the ropes only made me enjoy his misery more.

“I’ve had plenty of time to figure out the perfect way to make my wife’s fucking rapist suffer,” I said, rolling up mysleeves. “At first, I thought a bullet in your head would be the quickest, cleanest way. Then I considered acid, but the smell’s too revolting. Besides, I want you to suffer, not me.”

I chuckled darkly as I peeled the tape off his mouth.

Oh, watching him squirm was a pleasure.

“Please—”

“Then I thought, what if his worst fear was his undoing?” I scratched my beard as his eyes darted nervously, his lips trembling.

“Fucking bastard?—”

“Fire,” I said, grabbing the canister of gasoline I’d brought and starting to pour it in a wide circle around him. “That’s your big fear, right? Fire?”

“NO! PLEASE?—”

“Wanna know how I figured it out?” I pressed, ignoring his pleas.

He shook his head, sobs breaking free.

“You lost both your parents in a fire when you were a kid. A car explosion—just barely escaped yourself. And then your uncle, who raised you, died under suspicious circumstances. Poisoned, if I recall. And you, with all your illegitimate kids scattered across the country, never owning up to a single one.”

I continued to drench him in gasoline, making sure every inch of his body was soaked.

“P-Please! I’m so sorry! I didn’t know she’d be your wife!” he begged, snot running from his nose, his whole body trembling. “I’ll give you everything! All my money, I’ll leave Russia forever! You won’t ever see me again! I’ll make you Mayor of Moscow! You’ll be untouchable!”

I pulled out a match, twirling it between my fingers with a cruel smile.

“Oh, Sadiek,” I murmured, striking the match. “Didn’t you get it? I’m already the fucking king of this city.”

I dropped the match, watching as it ignited the gasoline. Flames roared to life, encircling him and turning his desperate screams into the soundtrack of his end. I leaned back against the table, savoring the sight of him being consumed by the fire. Finally, he was getting a taste of the hell he deserved.

I slipped into our bedroom, careful not to disturb her slumber. After showering in the guest room to wash away any lingering scent of gasoline and death, I made my way back to her side. It was early morning, maybe four or five, when I lifted the covers and nestled against Caia, wrapping my arm around her waist.

As our skin met, I sighed, feeling her heartbeat steady and calm beneath my palm. She hummed softly, snuggling closer, her hand resting atop mine.

"You're here," she whispered as I planted a gentle kiss on her forehead.

"Yes, go back to sleep," I replied.

She chuckled as I peppered kisses along her neck and shoulders, then shifted to face me, her hand still linked with mine as she entwined her legs with mine.

Fuck, she was wearingnothing.

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