Page 65 of Inevitable Endings
Nick steps closer, his voice a cold whisper. “Tell me. The Bratva’s operations in New York. Where else do they operate?”
The salt burns deeper, each second an eternity of agony. My mind hurls against the pain, but I focus. He wants information?He’ll get it. My body betrays me, shuddering, but I force the words out.
“There’s another place... you want to know?” I gasp, forcing my voice past the gnawing pain.
He leans in, his voice dropping, cold as ice. “Where do the lower-ranked Bratva members gather? Where do they come together to exchange information, make deals, auction off power?”
He wants something more than just money and shipments, fuck.
I swallow hard, forcing my voice past the pain. “There’s a place... in Queens. A warehouse. It’s not just a front for weapons or drugs. It’s an auction house. Where the lower ranks come together to sell influence, contracts, and even people. They bid on favors, power shifts, everything is up for grabs.”
Nick watches me closely, his expression unreadable. I can see the gears turning in his mind. This is what he’s after. This is the access he wants.
“And who runs it?” he demands, his voice low, almost bored.
I hesitate, the pain intensifying with every breath. But there’s no way out now. I know I have to give him what he wants.
“Kamchy Kolbayev,” I rasp, the name slipping out like poison from my lips. “He’s the one who controls it.”
Nick’s eyes narrow, and I see that familiar glimmer of victory flash across his face. He nods once, as if he’s already made his decision.
“Queens, huh? Looks like we have more work to do.”
My body trembles uncontrollably, each breath shallow, desperate for any kind of air, any sound to tether me tosomething real. But the silence, utter and suffocating, drowns everything.
My wrists feel on fire, and the cold, damp air seems to cling to my skin, tightening with every passing second. The isolation presses in like a weight, suffocating, until it’s all I can feel.
I try to focus, to push the panic down, but it claws at me, scratching at the edges of my sanity. My chest tightens, and I can feel my heart rate spiking. The quiet grows unbearable, a buzzing in my ears that has nothing to do with sound but everything to do with my own racing mind.
And then, it happens.
A figure steps out from the darkness, almost imperceptible at first. But then, the scent—the familiar warmth of her perfume—wafts through the air, and my heart skips a beat. I blink, trying to clear the fog from my mind, but there she is, standing in front of me. My mother.
“Mama?” I rasp, the word heavy on my tongue, thick with longing.
She smiles softly, her eyes sparkling with that motherly affection I haven’t felt in years.
Her hands reach out to me, warm and comforting, as she cups my face. ‘‘Aslanov,’’ she whispers, her voice a balm to the raw, frantic nerves that have taken over. ‘‘You’ve always been so strong, my son.’’
Her touch is so real, so warm, that I lean into it instinctively, closing my eyes, wanting to bury myself in that fleeting safety. The smell of her perfume, the lavender that always lingered on her clothes, wraps around me, calming the storm in my chest.
‘‘Everything will be okay,’’ she murmurs, her voice like the lullaby she used to sing to me when I was a child. ‘‘You don’t have to carry this burden alone, my dear.’’
I swallow, struggling to push away the fog, the creeping doubt that tells me this isn’t real. But she’s here, holding me like sheused to when I was small, when the world didn’t hurt so much.
“Mama,” I whisper again, the tears burning in my eyes, a mix of pain and tenderness that has no place in this dark hell. “I’m sorry.”
She shakes her head, brushing a lock of hair from my face. “Don’t apologize. You’ve never had a choice.’’
I want to reach out and hold her, to beg her to stay, to keep me grounded in this fleeting moment. But as quickly as she came, the warmth begins to fade, the comforting scent of her perfume dissolving into the cold air, leaving me with the harsh reality of the cell once more.
I’m alive, but invisible. If no one knows you are alive, you aren’t.
I’m going fucking insane.
Chapter 30
The First Step of the Ladder
