Page 31

Philadelphia, PA

The wind sent a chill through my bones. Fall had yet to set in, but living in the South for many years had accustomed my blood to humidity and warm nights. I hugged my body and leaned against a storefront’s glass window.

Waiting.

Santino and I landed two hours ago and settled into a penthouse he’d rented for the weekend. It never ceased to amaze me the power wielded by those with unlimited funds and connections. Or maybe I’d just forgotten what that lifestyle felt like. As young as I was, I enjoyed the perks of wealth and the feeling of invincibility, if nothing else.

It was all a lie.

Another gust of wind tousled my hair, and I realized then that the chill I’d felt earlier wasn’t due to the weather but the city itself. Every inch was crawling with memories, sights, and sounds, traces of a past I’d long vowed to forget—locked away in the darkest corners of my mind.

These streets saw my worst nightmares come to life, but they’d also be where I’d seek retribution for every piece of my soul they stole and shattered.

I squeezed my eyes closed against the bite of hot tears and swallowed thickly, steeling myself for what awaited me tonight. But as I pushed off the glass, tinkling laughter drew my eyes across the street, and I nearly stumbled, a gasp fleeing my lips. Despite the distance, time, and extra ink covering his neck and hands, I'd never forget my brother's face.

“Derek?” I whispered. “Derek,” I said again as I watched his interactions with a pretty woman. She was petite, with long, dark hair. And he looked at her as though she not only hung the moon but damn near created it.

I’d always kept tabs on my brothers through the years but decided, for their safety, not to intervene or make them aware of my whereabouts. For all they knew, I was probably dead. It seemed better that way at the time, but looking at him now, I realized I’d missed so much. When and how had he fallen in love? Derek Cain, in love?

A smile crested my lips, and a tear slid from the corner of my eye as I watched their sweet interaction.

Maybe one day, we’ll see each other again. Tonight, I wasn’t ready to reconcile with my past.

I kept my gaze on them until they turned a corner, and his sudden absence immediately provoked a deep sense of sadness and nostalgia that left me questioning whether I’d actually seen him or if he was just a figment of my most cherished dreams.

And as reality tended to do, it all came crashing down when my phone vibrated from inside my pocket. I read the message and peered down the street one last time, where Derek had been, and walked to the following corner to meet a man in a dark red sedan who’d soon be dead.

Opening the passenger door, I climbed inside, and his hand was waiting to make a home on my lap. Bile rose at the contact, but I had to play it cool. He thought I was an escort. Nerves and triggers had no place here, so I let his intrusive touch linger far longer than patience allowed, but choice had flown out the window when I caught movement from the backseat.

A fucking kid.

This son of a bitch brought a little girl on a date with an escort. He must have seen the unbridled shock on my face because he patted my thigh and assured me it was okay.

The fuck it was!

“You can’t be serious.”

“Relax, kroshka , last-minute change of plans,” he said with a grin.

Terror ripped through my heart at his insinuation, my hand flying to the knife at my side, ready to gut him right here and now.

“My ex-wife is on call. She got an emergency surgery request, and her usual babysitter wasn’t available. But don’t worry, my sister is in town. Just gotta make a slight detour.”

Glancing at the sleeping toddler, I inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. Most people would feel remorse for leaving a child without their father, but this little girl was better off without the sperm donor scum the universe had saddled her with.

“Perfect,” I chirped, releasing my knife and resting coolly against the seat. We were finally making our way up to his condo twenty minutes later.

“I’d never seen anyone like you before.”

“Oh?” I feigned innocence, though I didn’t know what he was referring to.

“You afraid someone will see you?”

Ah. The mask.

“Well, this isn’t exactly the line of work I flaunt in the open. I have a day job, Mr. Sokolov, one I’d like to keep separate.

“Understandable. Can’t let the whole world know you’re a whore. I get it.”

Painful. Slow. That was how he’d die.

Men made whores.

I said nothing, stepped out of the elevator, and followed him to his door .

“After you, whore.”

Very painful.

A strange odor hit my nose when I stepped inside, but he gave me no time to process when he shoved me and locked the door behind him.

“I was quite specific in what I wanted. Meek, breakable. The last girl they sent had a mouth on her, and I had to show her how to use it, if you understand what I’m saying.”

“Did you now?”

He slid off his belt, and the noise triggered me, sending a shudder down my spine.

“Strip and get on your knees.”

Familiar words sent another shock wave through my body. He spoke like his kin. All cut from the same fucking cloth.

“I’ll be whoever you want me to be,” I said, schooling the threat of a spiral and removing my mask.

The man’s eyes narrowed when they fell on mine, as if he’d seen a familiar face. “Your eyes… That’s different.”

But it was me whose glare was met with surprise. I knew he had ties to the trafficking ring that had held me captive. It was the reason I was here. But the night had become a hell of a lot more interesting when I caught a familiar scorpion tattoo on his neck.

He didn’t seem to make the connection, though I hadn’t expected him to. I was sure he’d maimed hundreds, if not thousands, of women in his time. We were all just faceless dollar signs and pieces of meat with holes for their enjoyment.

“I’m different.”

He scoffed, letting his pants fall to his ankles, and stroked his unimpressive dick. “We’ll see. But the longer you make me wait, the harder I get to fuck that sweet ass. Now, turn around and fucking strip.”

“As you wish.”

“ Sir. ”

The word resonated in my ears.

“Sir.”

Turning my back on this sack of shit wasn’t easy, but I had to play the game. He had nearly a foot on me and outweighed me more than anticipated. Sheer strength and skill wouldn’t serve me well here. I needed to outsmart him, be faster, underhanded, and savage.

My black trench coat slid off my shoulders and onto the floor. I heard him suck his teeth and quicken his pathetic hand thrusts. Grimacing with disgust, I rolled my eyes and gripped my knife.

“I must say, you are exquisite, whore.” He drew closer, his breath on my shoulder, and my hand trembled with the overwhelming urge to react. “Tell me, are you ready to play?”

Savage.

Licking the sharp edge, I countered, “The better question is, are you?”

The knife sank into the side of his abdomen, and he froze in shock, his brain taking its time to register what the fuck happened. With eyes as wide as saucers, he dropped his gaze to the wound.

“Bitch…”

Three more quick stabs had his mouth gaping open, followed by a slash that forced him to stumble backward.

I could have killed him on the first hit, but I needed my fun. I hadn’t come all this way for a quick death. Nothing about what I had endured was easy or fast. Maybe he hadn’t been the man who’d violated and beat me until my skin was raw and broken. But they were one and the same.

And if I could take it, so could he.

Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth. “I’ll kill you.”

“Try.”

He growled and lunged forward, expecting me to attempt an escape, but I surprised him when I dropped to the floor, and another slash of my knife stole his breath. Though this time, I couldn’t blame his look of utter horror and shock when he realized he was down an appendage—one he was very fond of.

“No…no!” Staggering, he fell on his ass, blood pooling beneath him, gushing from the stump where his cock had once been .

“You’re all the same,” I said, stalking toward him. “You take and take, and take without mercy or remorse.”

Tears ran down his cheeks as he attempted to scoot away. “Fuck…you fucking psycho. What have you done?”

“Oh, Sokolov, I’m just getting started. Maybe you don’t remember me. But we’re old friends.”

His shallow breaths slowed briefly as his eyebrows came together, the wheels in his mind turning.

“I’m insulted you forgot. My eyes have this way of making me quite memorable.”

“You…” he huffed. “You shot up my garage.”

“Bingo.”

He grimaced and reached for a Glock on a side table, but I introduced his hand to my blade instead, piercing straight through his palm and into the flimsy wood. Howling, his body shook against the pain.

I dipped close to his face. “Hurts, doesn’t it? Just breathe for me.”

As I circled him, light tapping noises from another room caught my attention. “I thought you were here alone.” The sound became more frantic. “Don’t go anywhere.”

Grabbing the gun, I approached a short hallway. The same odor from earlier wafted beneath my nose, stronger and more pungent. I braced myself for what I could potentially see and pushed open the door.

A sharp gasp fled my lips when I saw a young girl sitting in an empty tub, chained to the faucet. She was skin and bones, filthy, with dried blood and bruises all over her body. Barely conscious, the tapping seemed more like an innate survival response than a deliberate one.

“Hey,” I said in a hushed voice. “I’ll get you help, okay?” The closer I got, the more horrified I became. The girl was sitting in a puddle of her own blood, urine, and excrement. A nipple clamp that I could only assume had been attached to flesh sat beside her while the other was still halfway dangling.

“Fuck,” I cried, squeezing my eyes closed. “I’m so sorry this happened to you.”

I reached out to touch her hair, but her head slung forward, and she stilled.

Falling to my knees beside the tub and blurred behind a wall of tears, I saw myself in this girl.

For a moment, the world quieted. And it was just her, me, and the memory of my own suffering. I didn’t know who she was, where she’d come from, or how long she’d been here.

“You’re safe now,” I whispered, stroking her hair.

Maybe she’d finally let go because she knew she’d be at peace.

Rolling moans from the living room threw me back into the present.

He will never know peace.

“Come here…you goddamn crazy whore!”

I met his stone-faced glare and grinned as I snatched his flaccid, severed cock from the carpet. “You made me this way.”

“No, oh, god, no! Please!” he begged like a bitch.

The ice pick holding my hair in a bun slipped from my curls, letting them loose.

“Was she the girl you were talking about? The one you said was mouthy?”

“Please…don’t do this.” Bloody drool trickled down his chin.

“Answer the damn question.”

He yanked at his impaled hand, but his efforts were in vain. He was too weak. “Fuck, I don’t know.”

“Let me jog your memory.” I jabbed the pick through his urethra.

“Oh, fuck…Stop!”

“Yes or no?” His dick was halfway skewered.

“Okay! Okay…Yes!”

His desperation was amusing. Did he actually think his favorite appendage was salvageable? As if he’d need it where he was going.

“Now we’re getting somewhere. Tell me, what did you do to teach her a lesson?”

His fist pounded against the carpet, and he cried when he dared to peek between his legs, hoping this was all just a nightmare. Like he was unable to accept the idea that his prized possession was indeed gone.

“I’m going to kill you,” he grumbled from between his teeth.

Squatting to his level, I chuckled and gripped his hair. “Always the same empty threats, even when I have you by the literal balls—or, in your case, cock.”

I’d had the pleasure of witnessing many men cry at death’s door but never seen one sob as ugly as this bastard. His features pinched, mouth hanging open as bloody drool oozed from the corners. The sight would have been laughable had it not been so utterly pathetic. For someone who dished out pain and torture so freely, I was almost disappointed.

“Since you’re refusing to speak, I’m going to assume that poor girl’s last moments with you involved this sorry strip of meat. Am I right?”

“Fuck…you.”

I flashed him a grin, then slapped him with his own dick kabob. “The only one fucked here is you. However, I will cut you a small break, only because she doesn’t deserve to spend another moment trapped in your bathroom. But first…”

The man’s eyes widened when I reached for his shirt and tore it open.

“What are you doing?”

“Just sending a message.”

Skewering his severed penis the rest of the way, I used the sharpened point to carve into his chest as he squealed with every tear of flesh.

“There,” I said with a wink.

Maybe I’d gotten too cocky and hadn’t assessed his state thoroughly enough because, in a blink, he lunged forward and grabbed my hair, yanking me until I toppled over him. His skin was slick with blood, making it difficult for me to catch myself and regain my balance. Shit. I’d fucked up.

“You’re coming with me, whore,” he rasped into my ear as he twisted and locked me in a chokehold. “Should have killed you when I had the chance.”

While he was weakened from blood loss, escaping his grasp was near impossible when I kept slipping and gliding over bodily fluids.

“That’s it…Let’s keep each other company.”

Fear strangled my heart when my vision became shaky. I knew I needed to act fast. Patting the wet carpet, I frantically searched for the ice pick until the tips of my fingers brushed soft tissue. Without hesitation, I gripped the severed dick and thrust it into his face with every ounce of strength I could muster. Heavy grunts followed, and his body jerked before his hold on me slackened, and he slumped backward.

When I twisted around, I fell on my ass and burst into laughter. In my desperation for oxygen, I’d stabbed him blindly, and like poetic justice, the ice pick impaled his mouth, forcing him to swallow half his sorry dick in the process.

“Perfect.”

I retrieved the gun from where it had fallen during our struggle and stood over his body, pointing the barrel at his face. The fucker had the nerve to still be alive. He twitched and wrapped weak fingers around my boot and gurgled some ungodly noise from his currently occupied throat.

“My favorite lullaby.”

Two bullets to the skull, and my job was done.