Page 75 of Kings of Cruelty

“Okay,” I say, finally looking away from James to take in the storm clouds of Konstantin’s expression. “I guess that’s that, then.”

I keep thinking about how this should feel: wrong, fucked-up, terrible, disgusting, nausea-inducing. But just as much, I keep thinking about how it had felt when I’d thought I was going to die.

I guess it’s fair that I return the favor.

“You should probably be glad,” I tell James without looking at him. “They’d do worse than cut you up if I wasn’t here.”

Yuri goes up to James and grabs one of his arms. “Should we start with his arm? His leg?”

“He’s going to bleed out pretty fast once you start taking off major limbs,” I say.

The muffled sounds James is trying to make only steel my resolve even more.

They remind me of my own cries of pain, the way I’d begged him to stop as he’d rained blows down on me.

I take a deep breath, forcing myself to look back at James. It would be cowardly not to watch, but I’m not sure I can. It will remind me so much of Neil, of the way he and his family had looked on the blood-soaked floor after they’d been murdered.

It will remind me, too, of the way Yuri had taken that whipping for me.

But I’d handled that, and I can handle this, too.

I think.

“Zaya?” Nikolai says from right next to me, squeezing my arm. “Are you ready?”

I nod, steeling myself.

Konstantin meets my gaze. I remain steady, and whatever he sees, he’s satisfied. He nods and turns the table saw on, then he pushes it down.

James bucks and makes even more noise.

It doesn’t help him.

It doesn’t prevent the saw from tearing through his flesh. Blood splatters out, landing on Konstantin and Yuri.

James’s screams get louder, even through the gag.

I swallow down the bile that threatens to rise. Being pregnant and seeing blood isn’t the best combination, with the metallic stench of it heavy on the air, but I have to stay strong. I hadn’t thrown up when Yuri had been whipped, and this?

This is actually deserved.

Nikolai wraps his arm around me. “You’re doing so well, zaya,” he murmurs against my ear.

James’s arm drops to the floor. Blood gushes out of the severed stump.

“Only three left to go,” Konstantin says with a vicious smirk. He lightly taps James’s jaw, smearing the blood. “No sleeping. You must feel all of it.”

My stomach lurches again, and even though I want to continue to watch, I can’t. I turn away, and Nikolai lets me. He shushes me when I try to apologize, and the muffled screaming continues for several horrible minutes that should not feel nearly as satisfying as they do.

Fuck.

What is wrong with me?

I sob once, burying my face against Nikolai’s chest, but I catch myself before I can break into all-out tears. “I’m fine,” Imanage before he can say anything. “I’m fine. Just blood. So much blood.”

The screaming has stopped by the time I gather myself, but I hear theplopof something landing in liquid. Another limb, I guess, but James is probably dead by now.

I tell myself that he was going to die anyway, that this was actually more merciful than hours of torture, but I know it’s a lie.

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