Page 81 of His Darkest Obsession

“What’s your name?”

“Corey Parker.”

“And you?” Anatoly nudges the younger man on the right with a foot.

“Dylan Green.”

"Did the two of you arrest Malcolm Taylor?"

Parker’s split lip trembles as he answers. "Never heard that name before."

The lie hangs in the air for only a heartbeat. Then Anatoly's fist draws back and connects with Parker’s jaw. Bone crunches against bone, and a wet thud echoes in the tiny basement. Parker’s head snaps sideways and spits. Blood splatters on the ground, and a tooth clatters after.

A savage approval claws at my chest, and I feel my own hands ball into fists as I watch.

"What about you, Green?" Anatoly forces the younger man to look at him. His voice remains unchanged in spite of the violence and the barely restrained anger I can practically feel rolling off his body. "Malcolm Taylor. Two years ago."

"We arrest dozens of scumbags every week,” Green says. “Can't remember every?—"

Anatoly doesn’t let him finish and slams a fist into his stomach. The chair rattles from the force of the blow, and Green gasps, struggling to breathe as blood drips from his chin.

"But you rememberher." Anatoly grabs Green’s face and forces him to look at me. "Now why is that?"

"Fuck if I know," Green croaks, blood trickling from his lip.

This time, Anatoly doesn't use his fist. He pulls a knife from inside his jacket. The blade glints in the soft orange light, and then it cuts a dark red line along the man's thigh.

Green howls in pain. Blood stains his pants.

I should look away. I should feel sick. But I don't. I wantthem to hurt. I needthem to hurt.

Anatoly places the knife against Green’s ear. I realize what he’s about to do a moment before he does it. The knife flashes again, and Green’s ear falls on the ground in silence as a blood trickles down the side of his head.

"Lie to me again," Anatoly says. “And I’ll take your eye.”

Yes… I can hear my mind whisper even as my stomach starts churning at the violence. But I refuse to look away.

Green spits a mouthful of blood onto the ground. "We were just following orders."

Anger burns through me, hot and bitter, and I can’t stop myself from stepping forward. Anatoly shifts to give me room and I stand in front of Green and look down at his mutilated face.

"Whose orders?" My voice is steady and cold, surprising even myself. "Who told you to take my parents from me?"

"You know damn well whose order it was," he whispers.

“I do.” I lean down, close enough to smell the sweat and blood on him. "But I want to hearyousay it. I want to hearyouadmit it."

Anatoly turns towards me but doesn’t stop me from talking. My hands are shaking. There’s a surge of power from watching these broken and bleeding men recognize that even though Anatoly is tearing them apart with his hands, it’s me who holds his leash.

Somewhere deep down, a part of me is terrified how much I'm enjoying this. But that part is nothing compared to the delight blooming in my heart.

“What does it fucking matter if I tell you their name?” Green pants. “It won’t change the past. It won’t bring either of your parents back to life. And no matter what I say, I know I won’t be walking out of this basement.”

“No, you won’t,” I admit. “But you can clear your conscience of your wrongs.”

“My wrongs?” Green spits, sneering. “You have two police officers chained up in a fucking basement, being tortured by this Russian prick, and you dare talk to me aboutmywrongs?”

“My parents were innocent! They didn’t hurt anyone!” I scream. “And you took them away from me because the only crime they committed was standing up for me! You owe me that much to say the name of the person who gave you your orders!”