Page 79 of Shot For Mercy

“I bet you are,” I mutter.

Matteo moves toward the elevator and presses the button, then turns to look at me. “I’ll be in touch, Dad.” I nod once and his lips purse. “Oh, and just so you know…he loves me, too.”

And with those parting words, he gets in the elevator and leaves.

“Fuck!” I roar, ready to destroy the entire place, but I can’t because everything belongs to Cole, and I can’t do that to him. I fall to my knees and bury my face in my hands, then mutter, “Fuck,” again for good measure.

I don't know if I can take this.

Don’t know if I can handle it.

I just want him back.

Needhim back.

I’m not sure how long I’ve been here; all I know is that I’m aching all over my body. My hands are still tied behind my back, my wrists raw, my shoulders in pain. Just how long are they going to keep me here before they kill me? I wish they would just get it over with. Instead, they’ve left me alone to rot. I haven’t eaten or drank any water either. Maybe that means I haven’t been here that long. How long can I survive without those essential things? Then again, it’s possible this is my torture. Lack of food and water. I sure as fuck feel hungry and parched. I also feel like I could murder all of them.

I wish I could say I can’t believe they sent the pictures to Emiliano, but then again, yes, I can. Sokolov is a piece of shit, and he’s hitting Em exactly where it hurts. I bet he’s also hoping no one comes for me, that no one looks for me. After all, I’ve lost everyone who has ever mattered to me. Emiliano and Matteo. Both of them. Man, I really went and fucked up my entire life. I doubt they care about me anymore, and I sure as hell know they won’t be coming for me now. Not after everything I’ve done.

Matteo hates me because I’m with his dad. Now, Emiliano hates me because Matteo and I kissed. Matty probably told him about what I said in a moment of weakness, and that makes me hate him, too. Even if it’s just a little. Then again, I don’t want to die with hate in my heart, so I’m letting it go. I’m going to remember all the good memories as the life is snuffed out of my eyes. And it’s going to happen. Sooner or later, I’m going to die here. In a musty fucking warehouse that smells like dead people.

I wonder how many people have died here. Something tells me it’s a lot. The smell alone makes me gag, so I’m mouth-breathing. The concrete floor is caked with dried blood, and there are chains hanging from the ceiling. It’s like a little dungeon here.Lucky me. Then there are the guards. There’s a table on the other side of the room with six chairs, and all of them are occupied. Two guards are standing inside by the door, and it makes me wonder how many more are around outside. This is a mini fortress, and even if Emiliano came for me, he probably wouldn’t get past them. So there’s that. Only one thought circulates my brain right now—I’m going to die here.

I’m. Going. To. Die.

I should feel more fear than I actually do, and I can’t deny I’m a bit scared, but I’ve also resigned myself to my reality. The only hope I have is that they don’t drag it out. I’m weak, but they won’t break me, which means I shouldn’t have any hope. They’ll make me suffer. And as I see Sokolov come into the warehouse, the doors closing behind him quickly, my stomach tightens with renewed fear. Yet I keep my face blank, devoid of any emotion. I won’t fucking show weakness.

“Cole.” Sokolov grins, dragging a chair to sit across from me. I look into his icy blue eyes and almost shudder, but I suppress the urge to. “Always a pleasure.”

I grin, hiding the pain I’m feeling, and clench my fists to try to regain feeling in my hands. “Wish I could say the same about you.”

“And you won’t be saying that after today, either.” He shrugs, completely unaffected. As he should be. I have no power here. “You see, we’re going to play with you for a little bit. Get some information out of you. But you won’t die today. No, that would be a mercy.”

If he only knew, I did have mercy on his son. But I don’t say anything, just nod slowly.

“Nothing to say?” he asks with a smirk.

“I won’t give you information,” I reply, trying to shrug but failing to do so as pain shoots to my shoulder. “You should know better than that.”

“Always so stubborn.” He tuts. “I’ll break you soon enough.”

Doubtful.

But I stay quiet. I don’t feel like pissing him off right now, not when I know he’s able to take it out on me. That feeling is solidified as one of his men drags a metal basin toward me. Sokolov takes a couple of steps back and lets his bodyguard place the nasty thing in front of me, then puts a hose inside of it and begins to fill it with water.

No.

Fuck.

I swear to God, I don’t have the fucking energy for this. Maybe I’ll just let them drown me. That could get me out of this shitty situation. Yeah, I think that’s exactly what I’ll do. Maybe if I inhale a lungful of water, I can put myself out of my misery. Then again, I know he won’t make it that easy for me. He’ll torture me for a while—really lay it on thick. I can’t even be mad about it. I did this to myself, and I knew exactly what I was getting into when I killed Andrey. I was aware of the possibilities when I sliced him up, and I was aware of them when I shot him in the head. Deep down, I think I knew this day would come. I thought I’d feel ready—instead, all I feel is regret.

Regret that I didn’t make better choices. Regret that I didn’t sayI love youone last time. Just…regret. I look up toward the ceiling and try to regulate my breathing, as I hear the ominous whoosh of the water filling the basin I tell myself that it’s all going to be okay. All I can hope for is that Emiliano doesn’t hate me too much. But even I know that it’s a far-fetched dream. I’ll hang onto it, though. I’ll take that dream to my shallow grave and bury myself with it. It’s all I have left. A shred of hope.

“Chain him,” Sokolov mutters, and my head snaps down, my chin to my chest.

My nostrils flare as I look around, watching as the man unsnaps the wrist restraints and opens them from the chains. Someone comes to me from behind, cutting off my zip ties from my wrists, and undoing the rope from my torso. I can breathe again—finally—but I try not to get too excited. I won’t be breathing for long. Not now that the hose has stopped, and the basin is full, the water almost sloshing over.

The guard who untied me comes to my front, my hands falling forward, but I feel too weak to move them. I can’t feel them, anyway. It’s also too crowded here to try to get smart right now. No, I won’t try anything. I’ll just take my punishment like a man and die with honor. Which is why when they haul me up and out of the chair, I give my best attempt at walking. My knees buckle multiple times, but he just drags me toward the chains hanging from the ceiling, as if I’m not inconveniencing him in the slightest.

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