Page 19 of Only for Him
“She was sniffing where she shouldn’t,” he answers in Russian. “I had to send a message.”
“You sent much more than a message,” I said. “You sent abratokafter her.”
The man is dead, of course. I snapped his neck, dragged him into an alley, and left the body for the rats. Ivan must know that, but I doubt he cares.
A goodboeviklike him never cares about the men under his command. He only lives for the words and approval of his brigadier.
“Tell me what you were going to do to her,” I say.
He chokes, making a burble that’s a mixture of laughter and panic. “Does it matter? She’s just a fucking badge. What difference does it make toyou?”
There’s a hot pulse in my chest, a rush of old anger married to something colder. She’s notjustanything. Ever since I saw her and heard the venom on her voice, she’s become everything.
And he dared totouchher. Threaten her. Sent a man after her.
I set the mallet down, pick up a pair of pliers, and run the tip along Ivan’s left thumb—the same one that had touchedherneck.
Ivan tenses, but doesn’t beg. Not yet.
The nail comes loose with a slow, wet crackle, the blood welling up black and fast. Ivan screams, high and loud, and the sound echoes in the cement vault like a song.
When he stops, I let him pant for a while. The chain creaks with every tremor. That’s when I pick up the hand saw, its sharp teeth clean for now.
Ivan watches me line it up against his left forearm, just below the elbow. Panic finally makes its way into his eyes. “What do you want from me?”
“To hurt.”
I press the blade down and Ivan howls as blood sprays the air. For a moment, I’m seventeen again, watching a girl’s blood steam in the cold of a Russian winter night.
What would Detective Cantiano think if she knew I had memories like that?
I stop when the saw hits bone. I wipe the blade on his shirt and set it down. My hands are steady. My thoughts are not.
“The truth will set you free, Vanya.” I lean in, so close our faces almost touch. “What were you going to do to her?”
He pants, drooling, head hanging. I’m surprised when he actually answers me.
“We were going to bring her back. Fuck her, film her, teach her some fucking manners. I saw the anger in her eyes when she was mouthing off to me. Angry bitches like her are the best fucks.” He coughs, blood splattering on the cement below. “They have some fight in them. And I always liked a cunt in a uniform.”
Pressure beats at my temples as Ivan confesses his sins to me. I can practically feelherhere with me. Won’t she love this? To see another one of these fuckers gutted in her name?
I want her here, now.
I want to lick his blood off her lips.
“So,” he chuckles weakly before lifting his eyes one last time to meet mine. “I told you the truth. Why don’t you hold up your end of the bargain?”
“And set you free?”
“Isn’t that what you promised?” he asks back, uncertainty creeping back into his voice.
“I did, Vanya.” I pick up a knife. “But I never told you what I’d set you freefrom.”
The knife rises, and I let hate guide its path. The blade fucks his face in a savage, repetitive motion as it bites into his orbital, cheek, teeth, and nose. The blade punches through cartilage and skids across bone.
I keep going until his features are a ruin, until there is nothing left to destroy.
When I stop, my hands are red to the elbows and my shirt clings to my skin, soaked with blood. The floor under Ivan’s feet transforms into a red, mineral lake.
