Page 43 of Crown of Hate

“Where is he?” I snarl, already out of bed, ignoring the protest of my hungover body.

“In the basement. He hasn’t said a word yet, but I’ll make him talk.”

“No.” The chill air bites at my skin, but I barely notice. Rage courses through me, hot and potent. “Don’t touch him. He’s mine. I’ll be down in five minutes.”

I end the call and toss the phone aside. How dare he… How fucking dare he! If that fucker is really one of the traitors, then he’d better have something useful for me, or I’ll make him beg for death.

As I throw on a sweatpants and shirt, my gaze drifts back to Alya, who is thankfully still asleep. Part of me aches to crawl back in beside her. But duty calls, and it’s screaming for blood. I brush a gentle kiss against her cheek, allowing myself this one moment of tenderness. Then I straighten, hardening my resolve, and go down to the basement.

The basement is a chamber of nightmares, and Nikolai is living one. He’s strapped to a chair, face a canvas of bruises and blood. Semyon and Alexei flank him, their faces like stone, waiting for my command. From the state of Nikolai, I can tell they roughed him up a little before calling me.

Good. It’s just the beginning of what he deserves.

Fear bleeds into Nikolai’s eyes when he sees me. He’s trembling so much I half expect him to piss himself. The sight only fuels my rage even more. This sniveling coward dared to betray me?

I want to punch him in the face until his skull cracks. But I’ll go the easy way first. “Well, well… What do we have here?” I drawl, circling him slowly. Each step is deliberate, predatory.

“Chief, it’s not what you think,” he stutters.

“Really?” I come to a stop in front of him and squat to meet his gaze. “You have two minutes. To explain why I shouldn’t flay the skin from your worthless hide.”

His jaw trembles, but he doesn’t say a word. I stare at him, drinking in every detail of his fear. The sweat beading on his brow. The tremor in his hands. The way his chest heaves witheach panicked breath. I can almost hear the gears turning in his head as he weighs his options. But still, the silence stretches on.

One-minute passes. Then another. It’s clear—whoever he’s working for terrifies him more than I do, which really isn’t a good thing. I’ve put a lot of effort into creating the reputation I have. It would be a shame if my own man underestimates me.

“So you won’t speak?” I chuckle sardonically. “Brave. I hope you’re prepared for what comes next, because you’re about to experience pain beyond your wildest nightmares.”

I stalk to the small table at the other end of the room, my eyes roving over the array of tools laid out there. Knives are an old favorite, but tonight calls for something more… special.

“Eeenie, meenie, miney, mo,” I sing-song, fingers dancing over the tools. They come to rest on a pair of dental forceps. I hold them up, savoring how Nikolai’s eyes widen to saucers as I stalk back towards him.

“Please, Chief,” he wails.

The sound grates on my nerves. He’s Russian and a member of the Bratva, for fuck’s sake. Show some spine. Begging for one’s life is a sign of weakness I find absolutely disgusting.

“They have my mother,” he blurts out when I stop in front of him. “They said they’d kill her if I didn’t help them. I had no choice!”

Semyon sighs behind me. “You had a choice; you could have told us.”

“And then what? She would be dead before you could track her down,” Nikolai argues, desperation clear in every word. “I would never betray you if I didn’t have to.”

His pleas wash over me, leaving me cold. These are excuses, nothing more. If he can betray me for his mother’s life, he’s capable of far worse. I’d be a fool to let him live—not in one peace at least.

“If you’d come clean, we could have worked out a plan to make it look like you betrayed me.” I press the forceps under his jaw and push his face up. “But you chose to betray me. Now, how I choose to punish you is my choice.”

I nod to Semyon and Alexei. They both hurry up to me and pry Nikolai’s mouth open. He struggles, writhing and clenching his jaw, but it’s futile against their strength.

Forcing my forceps in his mouth, I aim for one of his front teeth and rip it out. The tooth falls to the ground. A mixture of saliva and blood drip from his lips, staining his shirt crimson.

It’s disgusting.

Nikolai whimpers from the pain.

“How many teeth you lose depends on how much information you withhold from me, Niko.” I wipe the forceps on the sleeve of his shirt. “Tell me everything you know. Who are you working for?”

He glares up at me, defiant even now. “What will I get in return? Will you keep me alive? I know you won’t let me leave here.”

“Smart boy.” I have no intention of letting him leave here… or live. But depending on how delicious the information he gives me is, I may reconsider. “But how brutal and painful your death will be depends on how good of a snitch you are.”

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