Page 67 of Surrogate for the Bratva
My gaze flicked over to the man who Maxim held in a death grip who I figured had to be Voronov. “But you’re not done yet.”
He nodded and pressed his forehead to mine. “I’m not done yet.”
I didn’t know what he wanted to talk about, but I was sure it wasn’t that he loved me and couldn’t imagine life without me, so I pushed up on my toes and pressed my lips to his, taking what very well might end up being our last kiss. My last taste of him before we parted ways.
“Later,” he growled, the words a promise that sent a shiver down my spine. “Take her to the house and keep an eye on her until I return.”
Ivan nodded.
“Now I see why you like her. Strong and beautiful,” Voronov said but his words were cut off by Maxim’s giant elbow crashing against his mouth.
I looked over my shoulder and caught a glimpse of the other side of Igor. The gangster. The criminal. He was still the man I loved, the man I longed for, but he was many other things as well.
I didn’t care about any of that, I only wanted him to be mine.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Igor
“Does this make you feel better, Igor?” Dmitry looked up at me through one swollen eye, a half-smile on his tired face. “Torturing me changed nothing.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” For the past hour I had removed strips of his skin as slowly as I could. “These strips of flesh,” I spat on the pieces of flesh on the floor, “they are for each of the family you took from me.”
“The way you took mine?”
I sighed. “That is the life we have chosen, Dmitry. You took your need for vengeance too far and instead of ending my line, I will now end yours. Possibly all of it.”
His eyes widened. “But he is just a little boy.”
I got in his face and laughed bitterly. “You were quite content to kill my unborn child and the woman carrying him so don’t youfuckingdare tell me he’s just a little boy.” My chest heaved as I thought about Mikhail, who lay dead beside Dmitry, holding a gun to April. “Maybe my need for vengeance won’t be quelled with you.” I ran the tip of the blade down his arm where the skin was already removed, enjoying the gut-wrenching cries he let out.
“He has nothing to do with this life.” He pleaded and he begged for the boy’s life.
“Neither did Boris’ wife and unborn baby.”
“She was the wife of the Bratva head. Fair game.”
“And April is not yet she was fair game.” I drove the tip of the blade into his skin and pushed it deeper and deeper, and I did it slowly because I needed it to hurt. “The good news for you, Dmitry,” I began and pulled the blade out, moving it over a few centimeters before I slid it in again, “is that you won’t be here to find out either way.”
Resignation settled into every inch of his being. “Just get it over with,” he growled angrily.
I smiled. “Are you ready to die Dmitry?” I wasn’t quite ready to put him out of his misery. “You want me to get it over with when you were content to torture and annoy me for months. Years, even.”
“You now have the upper hand,” he conceded. “This is beneath you.”
“It’s not, really.” I ran the blade across his chest, leaving a trail of blood dripping down. “You have caused me a great deal of trouble and for what? The loss of your junkie son who would have ended up dead either way. Did you know he was hundreds of dollars in the hole to his dealer? You didn’t, did you?” I shook my head. “He stole from who he thought was a wealthy man because he was too high to realize it was one of my father’s men.”
The moment that reality came crashing over him was the moment I hadn’t realized I’d been waiting for.
Our gazes locked and we both knew what was coming next. I held the serrated edge of the blade against his neck and sliced from left to right. Blood shot out and sprayed my face and the surrounding area, forcing me to step back and watch as the life slowly drained from his body. Dmitry sputtered and choked,fought like hell, the inevitability of what was coming until the last ounce of fight left his body.
My greatest enemy was now dead.
I was free.
Free from this enemy with many more who would gladly line up to take what I had. What I loved.
Looking at Dmitry now, lifeless and no longer a threat, a weight was lifted from my shoulders. He was just a man. A sad old man I let guide the course of my life for too long. I let his anger and pain become my own and it cost me the life of one of my dearest friends.
