Page 102 of The Shape of my Scar
Before he’d left the room to join the others, he had turned to Lirian and snapped, “Don’t take your eyes off her. Not for a bloody second.”
Lirian had only smiled. “Wasn’t planning to,” he’d replied. “Not this time.”
Faolan shifted slightly on the couch, the blanket slipping from one shoulder. Lirian reached out and adjusted it gently, like he had done a hundred times before—except now, the stakes were no longer hypothetical.
She still didn’t look at him.
But when he tucked the edge of the blanket under her arm, her hand twitched—just once—like she almost wanted to hold on.
Anatoly sagged on the meat hooks, his body a ruin. His jaw hung at an unnatural angle, one side of his face grotesquely swollen. A few broken teeth scattered the floor beneath him like grisly confetti. His breath rattled, thick with blood and mucus.
Maro stood just to his left, rolling the thin bone saw between gloved fingers. “You’ve got about three coherent sentences left in you, old man,” he said, voice dry. “Use them wisely.”
Anatoly wheezed a laugh or something like it.
“You think…you’ve won,” he slurred. “You think this”—he jerked weakly against the hook—“makes a difference? You can kill me, but I will live inside her for the rest of her life.”
Thane crouched before him, bloody sleeves rolled to the elbow, face a mask of cold control. “Start talking,” he said flatly. “Or I’ll let Maro get creative.”
Zel cut in, “We’ve already laid your trail. There are images on various CCTVs of you heading for the airport with a small girl in the front seat. A girl who is just a clever AI. You will be branded the paedophile you are. Your fake footage won’t be difficult to find. Lirian is very good.”
Anatoly snorted, the sound wet and awful. “Smart. But they won’t find me, will they?” The words were garbled through a broken jaw.
“You won’t be hiding,” Maro said smoothly. “You’ll be food for my pigs.”
Another whine of the bone drill. Another scream.
Thane said nothing. Just stared.
Anatoly coughed, spitting blood. “Dimitri heard it all, didn’t he?” His good eye fluttered open, seeking someone who wasn’tthere. “I loved that boy like my own. He trusted me. Left her with me.” A ragged sound, a half sob, half deranged chuckle.
Thane spoke up, “He didn’t know you were destroying her. That you were the one who killed her mother in front of her. That you are the reason she hasn’t spoken since.”
He gave a slow, wheezing sigh. “He took his pound of flesh. It would have been better to raise a dog.”
A long pause.
“Faolan is mine,” he said then, quieter. “You turned her against me. She…shot me. Not one of you got to her first. She did it alone.” His gaze flicked up to Thane. “Does that eat at you, soldier boy? That she had to save herself yet again?”
Thane’s nostrils flared, but he stayed silent.
Anatoly chuckled again, broken-jawed and bloody. “She was always mine. You just…borrowed her. I didn’t even get the chance to take her again. Had to leave…Russia. The warehouse they found her in was traced to one of my shell companies… Needed to vanish… By the time I returned, she was already in Denmark doing some bloody collaboration. Then vanished again. Undercover.”
He blinked slowly. “It was Malcolm who ruined it, that stupid bastard. Got himself exposed. His operation needed to be shut down before it drew attention to me. So, I stepped in.”
Maro narrowed his eyes. “How did you know who Trish really was.”
A twitch of a smile. “Zel’s debrief. Clever man, that one. Not clever enough. Slipped. Said something…and then I knew.” His ruined mouth cracked wide. “Trish was Faolan. All that time…right under my nose.”
His head lolled slightly. “Every moment she spent with Thane was more than I could bear.”
Thane’s jaw clenched.
“I arranged the meeting,” Anatoly continued. “You were meant to be drawn away. Left her vulnerable. Thought I could collect her quietly.” Another gurgling laugh. “Didn’t work out, did it?”
Maro stepped forward. “No,” he said, almost gently. “It didn’t.”
Anatoly looked between them. One eye gone, the other dimming.
