Page 98 of Disgraced (Russian Sinners 3)

Dimitry chuckled. “You got it, brother. I am so proud of you.”

“Thank you. I wouldn’t be here without you.” I meant those words. There was so much I owed to him and Nikolai. “Be safe. There is much we have to talk about.”

“Congratulations to you and your woman. And tell Scarlett, welcome to the family.”

I hung up and Scarlett’s arms wrapped tight around me. “They’ll all be okay, right?”

Cupping her cheeks, I held her face between my palms. “Nikolai and Dimitry are the best men I know. They will save your friend. Trust me.”

* * *

The tension was high all morning. Scarlett kept pacing back and forth, unable to settle her nerves. Sonia tried to keep her distracted but it didn’t work. If anything, it made her more tense. I wished I could help her relax, ease her mind. I assured her Nikolai would never let anything happen to Olivia. He would protect her, no matter the cost.

I knew my brother. He was overprotective of women and children but those he loved, he was downright brutal in his need to protect them. He and Dimitry both. Fuck, I saw it firsthand. They’ve watched over me from the moment I stepped foot into that orphanage. I remembered nothing from that age. But from what I learned, I was malnourished and couldn’t speak. The staff at the orphanage was more than happy to divulge information I was dumped on their doorstep at the age of two, on my birthday. They said my mother told them I was an idiot. She couldn’t care for a child that couldn’t speak.

Dimitry and Nikolai taught me everything; how to speak, hold a spoon, read, write, and fight. If anyone tried to get close to me, they’d beat them up.

Dimitry didn’t know about the man that got to me. There was another bastard that bragged to the men about hurting me and making me his bitch. Dimitry hunted him down and killed him. That action consequently saved me from my abuser too. Because Dimitry made a statement; he’d hunt down anyone that messed with us. That’s why I had no doubt my brothers would save Scarlett’s friend and come out of it safe.

The memory of that night I went hunting for the man who hurt me as a kid was still fresh in my mind. I was barely nineteen, and with the training from Dimitry and Nikolai, I felt strong. The rage had fueled me for years and the thirst for revenge kept me going when Dimitry pushed me hard in training.

The humidity lingered heavily that day. The stench of the stale air was a smell that would forever remind me of that night. I had been watching his movements for weeks and waited for the perfect time to strike. He lived in the ritzy part of the city where killings usually didn’t happen.

But that would change tonight. Because he would finally pay for what he’d done with his life. As dusk fell over the street, I saw his car pull up to his fancy home, watching as he got out, and entered the house.

The car drove off, leaving the bastard alone but I remained still, waiting in the shadows, stalking. I had all the time in the world. As the last of the light of the day vanished, I made my way up to the house, sticking to the shadows.

I went around back, where the unlocked door waited for me. I entered, the only sound was the ticking of a clock. It was counting down the time this motherfucker had left on this earth.

I made my way through the kitchen and the hallway, up the stairs where I knew I’d find him. I knew the layout of this house like the back of my hand. I’d studied it in detail.

“Kneel down,” I heard that fucker’s harsh voice. A whimper followed by a whip, stuck through the air and then I saw it. There was a young boy of maybe ten, kneeling down, stripped down only to his boxer shorts. This sick asshole was whipping his bare back, getting off on torturing the young boy. I hadn’t seen the boy exit the car with him and thought the sick bastard must have kept him locked up somewhere in the house. He stood behind the boy, the whip hanging loosely in his grip. He had stripped out of the suit he’d been wearing and stood barefoot, in his white undershirt and dress slacks.

I swung the door open, wasting no time in getting down to business. I cracked my knuckles and against the silence of the room, it sounded harsh and threatening. Both of their heads snapped to me and a flicker of recognition in the old man’s dark eyes was all I needed.

“What’s your name, kid?” I asked, my eyes never wavering from the sick motherfucker I would kill very soon. Angry red whelps marked the pale skin of his small back, and I was thankful he’d yet to break the skin.

“Ivan, sir.” His voice was small, scared. There was a fear in his crystal blue eyes, and I was pulled back to the times I’d been the one in his position. The memories threatened to overtake me then and there but I fought to keep a clear head.

“Are you okay?” I asked the boy.

The eyes of the old bastard before me never flinched from mine nor did he open his mouth to object. He knew this was between only us.

“Y-yes,” he stuttered. “He only whipped me twice.”

“Go home,” I told him. “Don’t tell anyone you saw this man today. And never come back here. Okay?”

“Okay. Thank you.”

In a rushed movement, the boy got dressed and walked past me. “Thank you, sir.”

I acknowledged him with a quick nod and he scurried out of the house.

“Now, pass me that whip,” I ordered.

“Fuck you.”

I pulled out my gun and shot him in the foot. He wailed like a baby, while blood seeped through his sock and onto his expensive Persian rug.

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