My jaw tightens. “What does he look like?”
“When we met, he was on the other side of a wall and spoke using a voice altering device. Our subsequent communication was done through emails.”
“Where are those emails?”
“In the car.”
Viktor heads there and fetches a briefcase from the trunk. He opens it and retrieves a laptop, then brings it to Roel, who opens it with a thumbprint.
Viktor goes through it for a few minutes, then nods.
I lean down and stare at Roel’s beady eyes. “You messed with the wrong fucking person. I’ll make sure none of you roam the streets ever again.”
While looking at him, I throw the knife straight at his last man’s throat. “I’m going to torture you until you wish for fucking death, Roel, and even then, I won’t give it to you. I’ll make your life as bleak as you made mine.”
But I know—I just know—that nothing will ever fill the hole that’s been growing bigger and deeper in my chest.
The only person who knew how is now gone.
4
KIRILL
It’s not enough.
Not the killing spree.
Not the torture.
Not the lead that I’m following to lure out the person who gave that information to the Albanians.
Nothing is enough.
Especially not the fucking torture.
I’d planned to keep Roel alive for eternity as I tortured him to my heart’s content, but I slipped, and he died on me only two weeks after I captured him.
My feet are heavy as I take the stairs to the house. A jacket is slung over my shoulder, and my glasses are blurry with remnants of the scum’s blood.
A gasp reaches my ear before I look up to see Karina running down the stairs, a hand muffling her mouth.
Unlike her usual pink girly dresses, she’s now in unflattering black pants and a hoodie. Her hair is gathered in a messy bun, and her face is makeup-free.
My sister stops in front of me looking like a shadow of her former self. Bloodshot eyes. Dark circles. Ghostly pale face.
“Are you okay? What’s with all the blood?”
I mechanically look down at myself and realize my shirt is bloodied, and so are my hands. I must’ve forgotten to wash up. I’m forgetting many things lately. The world is starting to look like a black loop of nothingness that I couldn’t put an end to even if I tried.
It could be the lack of sleep, or the fact that everything is empty and desolate. If I sleep properly, I might be tempted to never fucking wake up.
“It’s not mine.” I start to bypass Karina, but she blocks my path again. “What is it?”
Her lips tremble, and she chews on her dry bottom one. The flesh splits, and a strip of blood appears in the middle. “You’re looking like you’ll collapse. You should get some rest.”
“Go to sleep, Kara.”
“I can’t.” Her voice turns brittle. “All I think about is how Sasha felt before…before she was killed and…and I can’t sleep or eat or bring myself to do anything. He…no, she was my only friend.”
She.
Right. The name I wrote on her grave indicates that Sasha was a woman and my wife.
The wife I couldn’t fucking protect.
Viktor took the time to explain the complicated situation to my family members.
Me? I don’t give a fuck what any of them thinks.
I don’t even give a fuck about the future anymore. I used to see patterns, paths, and courses of action. I used to be motivated by all the goals I had yet to crush.
Now, I only see fucking black.
I spent my whole life carefully building a house of cards, but Sasha’s death has caused it to fall apart.
Karina throws her arms around my waist and squeezes the living fuck out of me. “If I feel this way, then it must be worse for you. She was always with you and…you married her so…so…”
I grab her by the shoulder and push her away. Nausea rises in my throat at the reminder of the last hug Sasha gave me.
And I refuse to let anyone else take that memory.
My wife loved this cheesy shit. She loved hugging me and trying to comfort me. She also loved singing and kissing. But then she left and took away her hugs, her smiles, and even her infuriating arguing.
The idea of being hugged makes me want to stab myself in the fucking gut and watch as my blood pours out.
Tears stream down Karina’s cheeks. “I just…I just wanted to console you.”
“Don’t. I need no such thing.”
“You…really don’t?”
“I really don’t. I’m perfectly fine.”
“Fuck you, Kirill! How can you be perfectly fine after she died? She dedicated her whole life to you! The least you can do is fucking mourn her properly, you fucking asshole!” She punches, claws, and slaps my chest.
I don’t stop her. I don’t have the energy to do anything.
My sister cries and curses me all the way to the moon and back as she lets out her anger and frustration on me.
I feel nothing.
Absolutely fucking nada.
“Kara!” Konstantin rushes inside and pulls our sister away.
She thrashes and kicks the air, her tear-streaked eyes throwing lasers my way. “Let me go! This asshole is not even pretending to be affected. It’s like six years ago when we begged him to stay, and he just gave us his back like a psychopath, Kosta! He doesn’t care! He never cares! Even if the person who protected him with her life died because of him and all the shit he stirs up!”
My jaw clenches. Karina doesn’t notice it, but Konstantin’s eyes harden as he shakes her. “Shut it, Kara. You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”
“I know exactly what I’m talking about! Look at him being all nonchalant after coming from God knows where. He doesn’t want to talk about her. But I will, every fucking day! I will remind you of the girl who protected and loved you but only got death in return!”
I reach an open-palmed hand to her face and nearly crush it in my hand. She finally shuts up, her eyes widening.
I don’t recognize the calmness in my voice when I release her. “Get the fuck out of my face before I do something I will regret.”
Her chin and lips tremble. A sob leaves her throat before she runs up the stairs, her sniffles lingering behind her.
My brother watches me with a furrowed brow.
“You have something on your mind, too? I can’t guarantee your safety if you piss me the fuck off, so how about you disappear instead?”
“Never mind Kara.” His voice is too fucking gentle for my liking. “She’s too sheltered for her own good, and you know she’s never been able to read the atmosphere.”
“And you can?”
“Not when it comes to you, I’m afraid. But I’m starting to learn.”
His eyes soften, and I’m so ready to punch him square in the face if he starts to pity me, but that expression doesn’t come. Instead, I’m staring at a version of my brother I thought I’d lost.
A long time ago, when Yulia would decide to take him on a picnic or to some show, he’d hide in my room just to spend as much time with me as possible.
I’d ruffle his hair and tell him to enjoy whatever she was taking him to for the both of us. That’s when he’d look at me with the same expression he has now.