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Twenty-six hours later

We had been in that warehouse for over fourteen hours, and it had been twenty-six since we’d left home.

I missed Selina.

I missed the boys.

I should have been with them, reassuring them the way Grigori and Sasha had when they returned earlier, after we secured the package.

Soon, I told myself.Very soon.

I finally signaled to Roman from my chair in the middle of the warehouse, where a table stood covered with various tools.

“Finally !” my brother exclaimed, striding toward the trash bin. He unlocked the padlock keeping it shut, then tipped the bin over.

Antonio Rasili tumbled out, covered in garbage, vomit, and substances I didn’t care to identify. His hands and feet were bound.

“You motherfuckers ! I’m going to kill you ! Do you hear me?!” he screamed, thrashing against his restraints. I stood, calmly sliding the magazine into my gun after cleaning it.

“You know how we Russians are, Rasili. We just wanted to return the favor—welcome you the same way you welcomed my brother.”

I approached him, my gun resting casually in my hand, and knelt beside him, eyeing him from head to toe.

“So ? How does it feel to spend an entire night in a trash bin ?” I asked, jaw tightening.

I should have enjoyed this. I should have relished the thought of torturing this bastard. But all I felt was rage. Bottomless, consuming rage that threatened to explode with the smallest crack in my self-control.

And that crack came fast—because the son of a bitch started laughing.

“So, she told you about our little lovers’ quarrels ? My sweet Selina… did she tell you about the time I tied her to the bed while she begged me—”

My gun was jammed down his throat so fast he choked on it. “Nikolai,” Roman’s voice echoed behind me, calm but warning. My hand trembled around the weapon. My jaw clenched so tightly my teeth ground together.

Calm down, Nikolai. Not yet. Not like this.

I finally pulled the gun back, and Antonio coughed and wheezed like the pig he was. My gaze flicked to his bound hands as slow smile curved my lips.

In one swift move, I grabbed his wrists, yanked his left hand aside, and fired twice—blowing off his index and middle fingers.

His scream was glorious, “you owed me two fingers, Rasili,” I said, rising and wiping the blood from my face with a rag.

“Tourniquet him. I don’t want him dying too quickly,” David obeyed while I cleaned my gun.

“Keep talking, Tony. Please. I haven’t been very creative lately. Tell me more about what you did to my fiancée.”

I leaned against the desk, crossing my legs as Rasili writhed in pain, “fiancée?” he croaked, bloodied and pale. “What the fuckare you talking about ?” his eyes widened, horror spreading across his face.

“Ah, right. No one knows yet.” I smirked. “She accepted my proposal last night. In our bed” I watched as confusion gave way to disbelief, then horror.

“We’re getting married, Rasili. Probably within the month. I’ve wasted enough time.”

His eyes locked onto mine, trembling, “you’re lying !” he shouted, trying to stand. Roman shoved him back down with a boot to the chest.

“Selina is mine !” he screamed, kicking and twisting like a worm on a hook. “You’re lying !”

Was she screaming like this when he broke her fingers ? Did she tremble like that when he beat her ?

“Bring the basin,” I ordered David, stepping forward anger taking over again. Roman forced Rasili onto his knees while David and Marcus positioned a large basin in front of him.