7
IVAN
Once Francia leaves, I’m tempted to drop her phone on the tile floor and crush it. If I can’t break her, this worthless piece of shit is the next best thing.
Then I hear voices.
Distant, tinny voices, coming through the phone’s speaker.
I look down at the screen and see that the call is still connected. Slowly, I raise it to my ear. My entire body tenses when Mikhail’s voice cuts through the silence.
“So you have a choice,” Mikhail is saying to someone else. His voice is soft. He must not be holding the phone to his mouth anymore. “Come with me willingly and live…or come with me unwillingly and die.”
He isn’t stupid enough to kill Cora. Not after the threat I made.
But she doesn’t know that.
There’s a long pause. I hold my breath as the seconds pass, waiting to hear the fire in Cora’s voice. Ready to hear her tell Mikhail exactly where he should shove his threats.
Instead, she responds in a voice so shattered, it’s a wonder the phone is even able to catch the pulverized pieces. “Okay.”
“What?” Mikhail barks back. “I couldn’t hear you.”
He’s not going to be able to hear anything when I rupture his eardrums. The fucker. Kidnapping her, threatening her, and then demanding enthusiasm as she bends to his will… I file this away as yet another reason why I won’t offer him any mercy when the time comes. See how he likes begging with enthusiasm for a quick, painless end to his miserable life.
“I’ll come with you,” Cora rasps. “Willingly.”
There is no fire in Cora now. Only icy resignation.
She has to know I’m coming for her. That I’d do anything to get her back. But unless she’s putting on the performance of a lifetime, it doesn’t sound like she has any hope of that.
Cora has given up on me.
But I’ll never give up on her.
“Now, that’s a good girl,” Mikhail croons.
My entire body clenches against the false tenderness in his voice. I’m going to make him regret every threat. Every single word.
Voices are replaced with rustling and footsteps. They’re on the move. My standards are so low that I’m just glad Cora isn’t screaming.
“Things are finally going to work out the way they were always supposed to, Cordelia,” Mikhail says.
A car door closes and then Mikhail’s breath crackles through the phone’s cheap speaker. “Wouldn’t you agree, Ivan? Everything is happening just as it was supposed to.”
I freeze. It wasn’t an accident. He knew I was listening.
Motherfucker.
I hesitate. Maybe it would be better to make him think I never heard him. That his performance was for nothing.
In the end, I can’t bite my tongue. “Everything will happen exactly as it’s supposed to,” I confirm. “But it hasn’t happened yet. I’ll let you know when it’s time.”
He chuckles. “You’re right. It hasn’t happened. Because I haven’t tasted Cordelia yet.”
My chest tightens with pent-up rage.
“I’ve waited for so long.” Mikhail practically moans. “She’ll be so fucking sweet. I bet she moans pretty, doesn’t she? I bet she sounds delicious.”
“Her name is Cora,” I growl. “If you touch her, I’ll—”
“You’ll what? Tattle on me? Do you think Francia cares what I do to Cora? So long as she stays conscious, I’ve kept my word. Even then, Francia would be fine if I flayed her alive. She has a bit of a jealous streak. Be on the lookout for that.”
My hand is shaking. “Don’t fucking touch her.”
“Where shouldn’t I touch her? Specifically?” he asks, amusement dripping from every word. He wouldn’t be so amused if he was standing in front of me. If he could see the murderous look on my face. “Should I avoid her tits? What about her ass? Oh, I know: I bet you want me to keep my fingers away from that sweet little cunt between her legs. You want that all to yourself, I assume. You’ve always been territorial.”
I’ve endured physical torture less painful than this. But if I let myself crack now, I’ll never be able to piece myself together now. For the sake of this mission—for Cora—I have to keep it together.
“But Cordelia is no longer yours to claim,” he tuts. “She never was. From the very beginning, the bitch was mine.”
“When Cora had the choice, she ran from you. She didn’t think twice.”
He ignores me, carrying on like I didn’t say a word. “And now, I have her back. Soon enough, I’ll have her in every way imaginable. I’ll break her until it’s my name she screams when she comes. Until she can’t even walk straight, let alone run back to you.”
I should know better than to let this stupid, petty motherfucker get to me. But I’m seeing red. It takes every ounce of my restraint to stay quiet and let Mikhail prattle off his taunts and jeers.
“Are you finished?” I ask once the line goes quiet.
“No,” he sneers. “I’ll finish inside Cora later. But I’m done talking for now, if that’s what you meant.”
Fucking g’andon. “If you hurt her, you’ll answer to me, Mikhail. And I’m—”
“What? You’re breaking up,” he lies. “I can’t hear what you’re—”
Then the line goes dead.
This time, I don’t hesitate. I hurl Francia’s phone against the wall. It shatters into pieces, taking a chunk of the wall with it.
But it isn’t enough.
I roar, my voice echoing down the long corridor. I yank a fire extinguisher from its cradle, leaving a gaping wound in the drywall. I kick through a wooden door and rip an exposed air duct down from the ceiling.
I rage and destroy and break shit until my chest is heaving and there are so many cuts up and down my arms that I don’t know where the imagined pain stops and the real pain begins.
Francia and Mikhail and whoever else is working with them are going to regret crossing me. I’ll track them down. I’ll chain them up. And only once I’ve emptied my near-bottomless rage on them will I give them the mercy of ending their lives.