Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 83100 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83100 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“David.”
“I bet that’s not your real name, but don’t worry, part of my good cop arsenal is that I can take a picture of you, send it to my hackers, and receive an email back with all your details. Your real name, age, and even face if you went under the knife. But that’s not all. They will also find out things like where you were born and how. Were you in the gulags? Or were you perhaps ex-military turned mercenary before you came here? Did you run in Eastern European circuits, do some burglaries here and some there? All of those will be in the records, and then, I will know about your family. Surely, you didn’t come all the way here for yourself. You guys always have a sick mother living in a cottage-like home on a mountain, waiting for a check from you so they can fight off the merciless winters. Perhaps you have a girl on the side, too, or an offspring you’re hiding.”
Even though his expression doesn’t change, David swallows. One of those is correct. The mother, the woman, or the offspring.
Jackpot.
“So here’s the thing, David. For every hair hurt on Rai’s head, you’re going to watch that mother and woman of yours being raped and know you won’t be able to save them until they spit their last breaths. Only then will I grant you death. How does that sound?”
David stares between the four of us, probably searching for someone who’ll tell me not to do this, but he’s fallen among the wrong crowd. Damien doesn’t give a fuck about the methods we use as long as it gets things done. Kirill would’ve come up with this idea himself, and Adrian…well, he stands still and expressionless, almost as if he doesn’t care what’s going on.
I’m probably the only one who wouldn’t use that option. Innocent women have nothing to do with this. However, I have to make him believe I would because, no matter how much they prefer this method, they wouldn’t want it used against them. If anything, considering the horror they inflict, they know it will stab tenfold worse if it’s directed at them.
“What’s it going to be, David?” I wipe the blood from his face. When he says nothing, I stand to my feet, retrieve my phone, and direct it at him. “Smile for the camera.”
“N-no…I…will tell you,” David whimpers. “I’ll tell you.”
“Glad we agree.” I glare down at him, my voice darkening. “Now fucking talk.”
As soon as he finishes giving information and we make sure it’s true, I shoot him between the eyes.
Every second I don’t go to her, she’s in danger.
With every second, they might hurt her in ways she can never come back from.
I’ll get Rai back. I have to, even if I have to resort to methods I’ve never used before.
20
Rai
A funny taste lingers at the back of my throat as I slowly open my eyes.
My surroundings gradually come into focus. I’m lying on a dark floor that appears like old, abandoned asphalt. A rotten smell like a public toilet in a forgotten gas station nearly causes me to gag.
I sit up and the world starts spinning like it did this morning. The gray stone walls have some industrialized red numbers on them, but they’re faded, washed away by the merciless hands of time. The few cracks invading the solid surface and a metal bed in the corner are the only things in sight. Its white sheets are yellowish and appear to not have been washed in an eternity.
How did I end up here? After the bag was thrown over my head, I don’t remember anything. Back then, the only thought I had was that I was dying and I couldn’t just die.
The sense of relief at being alive doesn’t hit me as strongly as it should. I might not be dead now, but that could change. Besides, it’s worse if they take me alive. They could use me to try to force Granduncle’s hand on something. It took so much for me to get to where I am, so there’s no way in hell I’ll be the brotherhood’s weakness.
I try to stand up, but I fall back on my ass immediately.
“It’s useless.” The quiet voice coming from beside me startles me. I didn’t know I wasn’t alone.
Aleksander sits by my side, his legs outstretched in front of him and his arms limp by either of his sides. There’s a cut in the shoulder of his jacket and his soft features appear strained, numb, even.
“They injected us with something,” he continues, still staring at the wall across from us. “I don’t know what it is, but it’s robbing me of energy.”
Now that I focus on my body, it feels hot and kind of numb, like I can’t control my limbs. I try to stand up again, but I fall back faster than the first time.