Page 17 of Cruel Honor

“You are beautiful,” he tells me. “I’m going to play with your body for a while before I kill you.”

He raises the scalpel high.

The doorbell rings.

He frowns and slowly sets the scalpel down. “Don’t make a sound.” Then he heads upstairs, leaving me down here, strapped to a table.

DIMITRI

“Katya,” I say, tapping her face. The crowd of Bratva fathers and their daughters surround me. Even Abram watches on with curiosity at the sight of my unconscious sister.

“Katya,” I say louder and practically slap her face to wake her up.

It does the trick.

With a gasp, her eyes open.

I slump and pull her against me. We’ve never been the most touchy, feely of siblings, but right now, all I want to do is hug my baby sister.

“Dimitri,” she whispers then pulls back with a jerk. “Oh my god. What happened?”

“You tell me. Who did this to you?”

“Some man … I don’t know his name.” She looks around. “Where’s Evie?”

It’s then that I remember—Dima dragging Evie out of the club.

“Shit,” I groan. If Evie had been any random woman, I probably wouldn’t have helped her. I tend to live my life with one motto: If it doesn’t affect me, it’s not my problem. And Dima taking Evie is not my problem.

But she’s Katya’s best friend. I have to do something, and I hate that I have to do something.

“What?” she asks. When I refuse to look at her, she grabs my face. “Dimitri, what?”

“Dima took her.”

“Who the hell is Dima?”

“He’s a little weasel of a fellow who likes to kill women.”

“You saw him take Evie?”

“Yes.”

She blinks then slaps me across the face.

“Katya, jeez.” I rub my cheek. “Watch out for the goods.”

“You didn’t stop him? If you saw him take her, then go save her!”

I groan and stand, helping Katya up with me. “Fine. I’ll go get her. I know where Dima lives.”

“Good. I’m coming with.”

“No.”

“Dimitri.”

“Katya.”

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