Page 83 of All The Pretty Little Lies

Ivanov's eyes lock onto the instrument, and a whimper escapes from behind his mask. "Please," he begs, his voice cracking. "I've told you everything I know. Please don't do this."

Alex steps forward, his face a mask of cold determination. The speculum hovers over the man's exposed groin, and I can see him trembling, sweat beading on his forehead. Ivanov's sobbing now, tears streaming down his face and soaking into the surgical mask. "I don't know the exact location," he chokes out between gasps. "But I overheard something about a private clinic in Russia."

I look at Alex, our eyes meeting in a moment of shared understanding. Russia. Of course it would lead back there. The word hangs in the air, heavy with implications and unspoken questions. Without a second’s hesitation, Alex shoves the speculum into his ass, each click spreading his asshole wide open as he screams.

“I bet that’s uncomfortable,” I smirk.

"We need more than just 'Russia.' It's a big country, in case you hadn't noticed."

His eyes dart frantically between Alex and me, panic evident in every line of his face. "I don't know anything else, I swear! Please, you have to believe me!"

Alex gives me a subtle nod before disappearing from the room. For a moment, the only sounds are Ivanov's ragged breathing and the distant hum of medical equipment. Then, a new noise fills the air, the slow, ominous rumble of something heavy being wheeled down the hallway.

The sound grows louder, echoing off the sterile walls until it seems to fill the entire clinic. I watch as his pupils dilating with fear as he strains to see what's coming.

Alex reappears in the doorway, pushing a large, cylindrical container. It's a liquid nitrogen dewar, its metallic surface gleaming under the harsh fluorescent lights. A long, stainless steel hose snakes out from the top, coiling on the floor like some mechanical serpent.

The sight of it sends a chill down my spine, and I'm not even the one strapped to the bed. I can only imagine what's going through Ivanov’s mind right now.

Alex maneuvers the dewar into position next to the bed, the wheels squeaking slightly on the linoleum floor. He picks up the end of the hose, examining it with a clinical detachment that's somehow more terrifying than outright anger.

"You know," I say conversationally, as if we're discussing the weather and not about to torture a man, "liquid nitrogen is fascinating stuff. It’s so cold that it burns your skin in seconds. Imagine what that would feel like on your most sensitive areas."

Ivanov’s eyes are fixed on the hose in Alex's hand, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he hyperventilates. "Please," he whimpers, his voice muffled by the mask. "I've told you everything I know. I swear on my life!"

I lean in close, my face inches from his. "Your life isn't worth much right now," I growl. "But maybe, just maybe, if you giveus something useful, we might let you keep some of your parts intact."

Alex moves closer, the hose hovering menacingly over his exposed groin. I can see goosebumps rising on his skin, whether from fear or the proximity to the frigid container, I'm not sure. Alex twists the knob on the top of the tank, a whooshing sound coming from it as frost begins to form on the hose. Alex hands me the hose. As the liquid spews, I shove the blunt end of the hose into his ass through the speculum.

Ivanov's scream pierces the air, a sound of pure agony that seems to vibrate through my very bones. His body convulses against the restraints, muscles straining as he tries to escape the searing cold invading his most intimate areas. Thick, white fog billows from between his legs, curling around the stirrups and spilling onto the floor like some ethereal waterfall.

The acrid smell of burning flesh fills my nostrils, turning my stomach even as a savage satisfaction courses through me. This is for Vesper, I remind myself. For all the women he's hurt.

I yank the hose free, watching as more fog pours from his abused orifice. "Start talking," I growl, my hand hovering threateningly over the liquid nitrogen tank.

Ivanov's words tumble out in a frantic rush, punctuated by sobs and gasps of pain. "It was Mario Rossi," he chokes out. "He bought the embryo. Natasha...she arranged it all for him."

The words hit me like a physical blow, stealing the air from my lungs. Mario Rossi. Vesper’s own uncle. The man who is supposed to be family. A red haze descends over my vision, rage boiling up from some deep, primal part of me.

Without conscious thought, my hand moves to the tank's controls. I crank it up, unleashing a torrent of liquid nitrogen into the room. The temperature plummets instantly, fog rolling across the floor in thick waves. It swirls around my ankles,climbs up the walls, fills every corner of the room until it's hard to see, hard to breathe.

I can barely make out Alex's form through the dense fog. The temperature in the room plummets, our breath visible in short, sharp puffs. Ivanov's cries grow weaker, muffled by the mask and the ever-thickening mist.

My hand shakes as I reach for my phone, still propped up on the nearby tray. Vesper's face is barely visible on the screen, her eyes wide with a mixture of horror and grim satisfaction. I snatch it up, my fingers numb with cold and shock. “Go to the warehouse,” Oscar calls out from my phone. “We’ll meet you there.”

"We're done here," I growl to Alex, my voice sounding foreign to my own ears. Without waiting for a response, I turn and stride out of the room, Alex close on my heels.

The hallway feels unnaturally warm after the Arctic chill of the exam room. I can hear the faint, weakening cries of Ivanov behind us, but I don't look back. My mind is a maelstrom of thoughts and emotions, all centered around one devastating fact: Mario Rossi is behind all of this. Vesper’s fucking uncle.

“What do we do about him?” I ask Alex once we’re outside the room. “We can’t exactly leave him on ice. They’ll blow the whistle as soon as it opens up tomorrow. You can’t exactly miss a frozen ass popsicle in the exam room.”

Alex pulls out his phone, firing off a text. “He’ll be gone within the hour.”

“Do I want to know how?”

“Let’s just say I have a friend nearby in the big cat business,” he says with a wink. “He’s always looking for free meat to feed his tigers.”

“How the fuck do you keep making all these friends, Alex?” I ask, shaking my head.

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