Page 6 of Deception

The laugh that follows my remark turns into a sneer while his hands squeeze around my thighs, fingertips digging into my flesh with the bruising grip spearing through me. The pain burning through me is a welcome distraction from my whirlwind of thoughts. As we reach the top of the steps, the men standing around pause.

Their fear at his obvious anger and irritation is palpable in the air. I steal glances at them. Their heads are bowed, eyes cast down to the ground. Like a Mexican wave of stares, they shoot directly to me with every step Tomasz takes away from them. I memorise every face, cursing them and vowing their death before my time is up.

They look at me like a weak woman, but it’ll be my sword they fall on. In the end, I’ll stand over their dead bodies while the vultures feast on their rotting flesh.

3

TOMASZ

The gates to the old imperial palace my grandfather refurbished open. Outside of Moscow, this place was a forgotten ruin after the Russian secret service abandoned it decades ago. Now, it’s a sanctuary. The only home I have ever known, except for the years I spent in Boston, studying at Harvard while under my uncle’s protection. Safe and out of the way, but nowhere near as homely as this place.

I was born here. My sister was born here. My grandparents are buried in our own private chapel by the lake. This is Vassily land now. Our history runs deep through the earth and water. It’s seeped in the nature surrounding us.

Looking to my side, I take in the girl. Torn and shredded, but nowhere near broken, she glances up at me. A glare quickly overtakes the passive expression on her face as she uses her tied hands to brush the tangled lengths from her eyes.

“What?” she hisses like the little snake she is.

Even slithering on the fucking ground, she has indignation burning in her unseasoned eyes. So blue and brimming with a clandestine innocence that makes me question what I’m doing with her.

“You want the men to have you?” Or better yet, maybe I should send her to the club in St. Petersburg where the depraved rich pay to all but kill beautiful girls like her.

“If you want to lose another comrade,” she barks back, jabbing at me with her hands.

Before she can stick her pointed tongue back in her mouth, I grasp her jaw, pinching the hollows of her cheeks until a fissure of pain cracks her mighty veneer.

“You do that again, and I’ll put you in hell. There won’t be a single part of you left when I pull you out like a rag and bury you in the ground.”

The fire burns brighter in her eyes as I hold her glare and keep squeezing until my fingers threaten to rip through her cheeks, blanched, milky skin turning red at the edges. It makes her freckles darken, the same golden colour speckling her eyes with her vivid anger.

“Do you know what’s special about girls like you?”

The girl’s small, upturned nose flares as I release her cheeks and shove four fingers in her gaping mouth. Heated breaths coat my skin as I curl my grip into the well of her mouth, holding down her sharp tongue while my pinkie finger stretches to the back of her throat. Tears fill her eyes with muted gags. If she won’t give them to me freely, like a good pet, then I’ll take them myself.

“Do you, Red? Do you know what makes you special?”

When she holds my stare, I shove my finger deeper, hitting the back of her throat as the corners of her mouth stretch almost translucent, ready to rip her looser hole wide open.

“You are nobody. No one cares enough to find you. You’re unneeded. Dispensable and unwanted. A waste.” Heavy tears course down her face, sparkling like diamonds in sunlight. “You’re dead to this world. A ghost with no life and death in waiting.”

Tears continue to river down her face even though she’s not gagging anymore. Her throat has already grown used to the intrusion.

Little Red is a quick learner.

“You’re mine now. To do with as I like and choose. My pet.” Defiance widens her eyes as I withdraw my hand, her spit drooling down my wrist and forearm. “Do you remember what I told you at the club?”

There’s no response. Instead, her mouth snaps shut as the car comes to a stop at the bottom of the staircase leading up to the front veranda overlooking the three enormous fountains that shoot geysers from one to another.

“Master, Red. That’s who I am, and that’s what you call me…when I give you permission to speak.”

With a squeeze of her delicate neck, I push her back into her seat before I get out of the car and head up the stone steps to the house. The door opens as I get to the top, and the butler steps out.

“Good afternoon, sir.” He bows his head when I stop in front of him.

“The girl in the car.” Looking over the balustrade, I wait to see if Red will try to make an escape now that she’s only with the driver. “Clean her up and bring her to my quarters.”

Pyotr follows my gaze. I’m looking for a reason to chase her. Hunt her down and make her pay. To punish her and make her cry actual tears.

She thinks she’s better because of the family she was born into, but their clan is just as dirty as ours. They may have the polished history and image to shine, but a criminal is a criminal no matter how you dress it up. Their brotherhood kills, steals, destroys and corrupts just as we do. And when I’m done with her, Little Red is going to wish she never baited this wolf.

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