Page 144 of Vicious Addictions

He closes his eyelids and shivers, imagining the worst things possible. I hate to tell him that his imagination doesn’t hold a candle to the real thing my father has in mind.

Either he or Marcello will ensure to prolong his suffering. Of that, I have no doubt.

I lower my lips to his ear and say, “You told us that you’re in bed with theCosa Nostra, but I’m going to need more than that. I’m going to need the name of the man who persuaded you to betray yourPakhanand traffic women on our turf. Give me a name.”

“If I do that, they’ll kill me.”

“You’re already dead, Dimitri. This… this is just your purgatory.”

He stares into my eyes and opens his mouth but then shuts it again.

“Give me a name… and I’ll give you what you want,” I promise him.

“I have your word?” he says, desperation laced in his voice.

I nod. He takes a minute before finally giving me what I want by saying, “Donato.”

The sound of that name coming out of Dimitri’s mouth takes me off kilter.

“Donato? As in New York’sCosa NostraDonatos?”

He nods.

The fuck?

“Are you sure? How do I know you’re not lying to me?”

He then gives me an address.

“You’ll find everything there. Ledgers. Inventory. Everything.”

Anger and fury run through my bloodstream at discovering the Donatofamigliais behind all of it. But before I have time to wallow further in my hatred, Dimitri grabs my forearm to get my attention and says, “Please. You gave me your word.”

“Do you have family?” I ask him, to which he shakes his head.

“Very well.”

As I slide a pillow from under his head, Dimitri begins murmuring the Lord’s Prayer in mangled Russian. I wait for the traditional amen before pressing the pillow over his face. He doesn’t even fight me, as his survival instinct is no longer a match against his fear. When I’m certain he’s taken his last breath, I pull the pillow away and gently close his eyelids. I place the pillow back under his head and turn, only to find Mina awake, watching me.

She doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t have to.

This gentle death was more than a man like Dimitri Mikhailov deserved.

“A quick death. Just like you promised him.”

“Thank you,” she says, with none of the usual bite on her voice.

I let out a long exhale, my shoulders slumping.

“It’s still me, Mina. I’m still in here.”

“Maybe,” she says, getting up from her seat. “Maybe you are. But that doesn’t change much. Not for me.”

And then she leaves.

Chapter 24

Mina

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