Page 45 of Twisted Proposal

"Then why would I tell you anything?"

It was hard to see beyond the swelling and blood, but I thought I spotted a glimmer of defiance in his eyes. It was almost enough to make me respect him a little.

Almost.

"Just because I'm going to kill you doesn't mean I have to do it quickly," I said with a smile. "Your life will end. That is nonnegotiable. But you get to decide how much pain you feel before we let you go. And because I'm in a generous mood, I'll let you decide how or if your family ever finds your body."

"You—" His voice trembled with fear, and I knew I was getting somewhere.

"We can do right by you and your years of service to the family. We'll have your body delivered to a funeral home, and your family told some bullshit about you dying an honorable death, and the expenses for your funeral and burial will be covered. Or maybe no one ever finds your body?"

"What does it matter if I am buried in a cemetery or a field?" Kristoff, to his credit, tried to stand. Pavel put his hand on his shoulder, but it wasn't necessary. He could barely hold up his own weight.

"It doesn’t, I suppose," I admitted. "But you forget, Kristoff. We've worked together for a very long time. I know what you value. Where your body rests is of no consequence to you, but your reputation is."

"What—"

"It's not just that no one will find your body. I'll make damn sure that your family thinks you're still alive. That you just ran away like the fucking coward you are. For a time."

Kristoff bared his broken and missing teeth at me, more blood dribbling down his chin. It wasn't as intimidating as he had hoped.

"Then, when the mood strikes, I'll send your wife, your mother, and your children pieces of your corpse. They'll know what kind of man abandoned them when they needed him most."

"You wouldn't—" he snarled.

I let out a low laugh.

"Not only would I do it, I have done it. There's nothing stopping me from doing it again. So the choice is yours. Do you want your family to be taken care of, to gather around the table on your birthday to tell stories of the great man they lost? Or do you want them destitute, on their own, cursing your name for abandoning them? Then, when they have finally forgotten you, receiving the reminders I’ll send."

"You're no better than Solovyov," he spat. "At least he has honor."

Pavel and Kostya laughed behind me.

"Honor? You think that small-dicked coward has honor? If you die a traitor's death owing him money, do you think he won't still collect? He will turn your son into a soldier that is no more important than cannon fodder. Your wife and daughters will fill his brothels, and I don't even want to think about what he would do to your mother."

"You lie!" he yelled as he lunged forward.

I took one step back and then landed an uppercut under his ribs. He doubled over and fell back into his chair. My knuckles throbbed and I cherished the ache. It focused me, pulled me to the here and now, letting thoughts of Viktoria slide to the back of my mind.

Grabbing him by his greasy hair I tried to tilt his head back, but his toupee just came off his head and Kostya and Pavel laughed again. I tossed the hairpiece aside and grabbed him by the throat instead.

"What is Solovyov's next move?" I roared, letting my anger get the best of me.

Kostya and Pavel stopped laughing. I never yelled. It was a sign of weakness. It meant my grip on my control was loosening and that was not something I would allow.

"Fuck you," Kristoff spat.

I backhanded him, forcing his head to the side, before I grabbed him by the throat again.

My heart raced. There was so much irritation crawling under my skin, I wanted to lash out even more. "Tell me what Solovyov's plan is. Where is he going to attack next?"

"Fuck you."

He was getting tiresome.

I hit him again and again. This time avoiding his face. Any more swelling and he wouldn't be able to answer me at all.

When Pavel put his hand on my shoulder, I was covered in sweat and my heart was racing.