Page 9 of Violent Love: Viktor
They were going to film everything.
“Let me go. I did what the Pakhan wanted! Why are you doing this?” Petrov wailed.
The doctor chuckled, low and manic.“The Pakhan’s wife is the one to thank. She sentenced you to death a year ago.”
I snapped my gaze back to Petrov in shock, but he looked just as lost.
A woman had orchestrated this?
Viktor returned, sliding on a white glove. He snapped the second into place, covering the tattoos on his hands.
“How many children have you raped, Petrov?” he asked, calm as ever, while drawing a substance into a syringe.
I gasped at the question. My eyes flew to the pig on the table, and I saw it.
Guilt.
Viktor pressed the needle to his neck and injected him without pause.
“This will keep you nice and still for the next part, but you will feeleverything. I want you to think of every child you hurt. Every one you killed,” Viktor growled.
The door flew open, and a well-dressed man in a tailored suit entered the room.
“Pakhan, I did not think you would come,” the doctor said, sounding pleased.
“I wasn’t intending to. But I needed to watch this one suffer,” he replied with a cold smile.
“P-P-Pa…” was all Petrov could manage as the drug took hold.
Viktor looked wary for a second but nodded before reaching for the scalpel.
“Nearly thirty years you got away with your crimes,” the Pakhan said, moving to the head of the bed.“Did it not occur to you that something was wrong when you couldn’t get hold of children this past year?”
Viktor pulled a stool over and wheeled it to the base of the bed. He sat, took a long, needle—thin, like an acupuncture pin, and drove it into the base of Petrov’s fat penis, pinning it to his belly.
The groaning was only just beginning.
Then he slid the scalpel between the folds of flesh beneath Petrov’s balls.
I gagged as blood began to drip down the old man’s ass crack.
“Don’t throw up in my room,” the doctor snapped at me, drawing the Pakhan’s attention.
His icy blue eyes locked on mine. They were just as dangerous as Viktor’s dark ones.
“I hope you survive, Viktor. Because if you don’t—”
“She will be an obedientsuka,” Viktor barked, turning to glare at me.
They were the owners of my life. I shuddered and remained silent.
Until I made the mistake of looking down and whimpered.
Viktor was holding Petrov’s testicle. It looked small in his gloved hand, almost absurdly so. But the sight of the open flesh, fat glistening under the lights, made my stomach lurch.
Petrov moaned again—an awful, endless noise like something dying by inches.
I fought to keep breathing. Laboured, shallow breaths. Anything to keep the panic at bay. But when I opened my eyes again, the second testicle was out and resting in a metal bowl on Petrov’s stomach.
