What?
Slowly, I stepped closer, peering at the screen over Lei’s shoulder.
Oh my God.
My blood turned to ice.
The screen showed Dima sitting on the carousel in the garden, bound by ropes to a bench. His usually calm face was contorted with emotion.
Next to him sat Rose, equally bound by rope to that bench. Her expression was tense and sad, but she surely was trying to hold herself together.
And that carousel rotated slowly, the bright and cheerful horses bobbing up and down, while tons of blue robed monks surrounded it with guns and many of the weapons’ points were aimed at Rose’s head.
However that wasn’t the horrifying part.
What chilled me to the bone and fucking ruined me. . .was the sight of the dead white cat lying limp in Dima’s lap.
Enraged, I shook my head. “Leo, w-why do that to the cat?”
“It was self-defense. Dima didn’t appreciate them pointing the gun at Rose and took out four of my men so fast all I could do was shoot the little cat in its head.”
I turned to him.
Leo shrugged. “Something had to get his attention. It was either the cat or the female reporter. Which would you have preferred?”
I looked back at the iPad.
Now, tears streamed down Dima’s face as he gently stroked the dead cat’s fur.
Lei gripped that iPad hard. “What the fuck do you want, Father?”
“Do not curse in front of the child.”
We both turned back at Leo and glared.
Was he fucking serious?
Lei raised his voice. “What? Do? You? Want?!!”
Chapter forty-two
This is Bigger Than Treasure
Moni
As I stood there, frozen in shock, the image on the iPad burned into my mind. The dead white cat, limp in Dima’s lap, its fur stained with blood. Dima’s tears flowing down his face as he stroked the cat, trying to comfort a creature that was already gone. Rose sitting beside him, lost and suffering.
My heart clenched painfully.
Leo had done it—he had crossed a line that wasn’t about power or control. He had hurt Dima in the most intimate, unexpected way. And now, he sat here, watching us with that eerie, emotionless smile, as if the death of the cat meant nothing.
Because to him, it probably didn’t.
It was just a move in his twisted game, a means to get Dima’s attention and remind him who held the power.
But to Dima?
To Rose?