Page 81 of Hateful Vows
I refuse to lose hope but every day that we come back empty handed, and Aleksei buries himself in silence, it gets harder. We haven’t received any news. No ransom has been asked, no enemy has taunted us with pieces of his body, like they do in movies.
Because this isn’t a movie. This is very real and the prospect of losing him clings to the edges of each new sunrise.
We’ve even dismissed that it might be related to Misha Petrov and what we did to his second-in-command. When he received the heads of his fallen soldiers, he called Aleksei, saying he appreciated the ruthlessness of the message and he’d send one just as grand when he’d be ready to annihilate us.
The silence speaks of someone else. Someone we never interacted with, most probably, and I’m pulling my hair out trying to work by elimination, searching through the entire underground system, not only in Europe, but in the rest of the world, too.
I suspected Toma Kovac but the man gave me access to his phone, to his private, secured network and joined us in the chase. Him and his brother have officially cut ties. I don’t fully trust him but if he turns out to be the man I’m looking for, having him close-by will make my vengeance all the swifter.
I’m looking at the man now, cosying up to Lucie of all people, when Aleksei drops a plate in front of me.
“Eat,malyshka,” he orders before sitting down next to me.
“I’m not hungry,” I say, my eyes laser-focused on the easy smile the cocky Croatian seems to drag out of my friend.
Aleksei doesn’t voice his disapproval but grabs a foot of my chair and pulls, snapping my attention. I’m so stunned I don’t do anything to protest.
A heavy, scarred hand lands on my thighs under the table, while the other picks up a fork full of potatoes and meat.
“I’m not a child,” I protest weakly.
“Then don’t act like one. If you don’t eat, I’ll feed you myself. I need you sharp and alert. How do you think you’ll kill the person responsible if you can’t even lift your own arms?”
I hate that he has a point, and send him scathing look, though that has never deterred him before. I take the fork from his hand and eat the whole thing, barely tasting it. I need my strength. I need my sleep.
“Tell me how you’ll do it,” he demands.
I know exactly what he means and I drop into the daydream that some will call a nightmare.
I imagine the man on his knees before me, a hunting knife in my right hand and a mallet in the other.
“I’ll make sure he’s always on his knees and can’t move from his prostrated position. After a few days without food and water, kept like this, his knees would be in a permanent ache. Dull, but there nonetheless. I would let him fall asleep, and then blast the same song over and over and over again at maximum volume, until he’d thought he might go crazy. I would flash lights in his eyes at random intervals. Break his bones, then heal him. Then, I’d let him drink and eat and rest for a few hours so he’d lose sense of time and hope would come back. I’d do it all over again a few times. But not enough that he’d get used to it.”
I take a deep breath, eyes closed and revealing in the smell of his fear. It’s all so sharp in my mind. “Then, I’d start the drownings. Take his nails but not all at once. Torture him over the span of weeks. I’d let him beg me for mercy and death. And never give it.”
“What about your finale?” Aleksei asks, voice dropped low, and making me shiver.
“Death would be too kind. I’d insert a few chips inside his body, leaving only one scar visible so when he’d fish it out, he might think he was free from me. I’d let him leave. And when he would start to get comfortable in the new life he had set for himself. I’d do it all over again, monitoring constantly so he’d never be able to take his own life. Keeping him in purgatory for all his miserable life.”
“Magnificent.”
Aleksei kisses my brow but doesn’t touch me further.
We both know we need Dante to make us whole again.
THIRTY-FOUR
ALEKSEI
This is why I’ve always kept Irina at arms’ length. Getting involved with her was a mistake. Getting involved with Dante, an even bigger one.
We have no lead. She’s exhausted. Even Lucie has stopped joking around as she usually did. And I have nothing to give that will make this better. Despite wasting no resources, Dante’s still gone and Irina’s gaunt face and permanent grey shadow under her eyes is all I see when I close my eyes to get a few hours of sleep each night. And I can’t offer anything to ease the pain of the loss away.
Two weeks is too long.
In case of abductions, if you haven’t heard anything for ransom in forty-eight hours, the chances of recovery thin to almost none.
I can’t tell Irina that. I simply follow, chasing a ghost, throat tight and hope evaporated to nothing.
