13. Dmitry

13

DMITRY

I t was easy enough to find out who hurt Tatiana.

The Bratva had a fuck of a lot of informants and spies, and that shit ran deeper than blood in this city's underworld.

As soon as we left Tatiana's—which we sure as fuck hadn't wanted to, but we knew she needed some breathing room—we got to work weeding through the information.

I hated leaving my little sister, and I knew Nikolai did too. But we had guards stationed around her apartment; plus, she was emotionally drained and probably just wanted to sleep.

Besides, Nikolai and I were itching to kill someone or, at the very least, cause some hardcore destruction after what happened to Tatiana. If the fucker who hurt her was already dead, the next best thing would be taking out anyone close to him.

It would calm our bloodlust.

We only had to wait a couple of hours after sending word out before we got what the fuck we wanted. The man we'd been after had been easy enough to find. He was an addict, a junkie who had been spotted entering one of the many trap houses in Desolation.

We had our men pick him up and take his strung-out ass to one of our abandoned buildings on the outskirts of the city. The basement of the old printing company was cold and dark, and the air fucking reeked of mold, age, and damp concrete. We all stood in silence, and I could hear the scuffling of rodents nearby.

Nikolai and I stood side-by-side, the room dark, and the portable lights we brought in casted long shadows on the walls.

Francis was a young man who was about a hundred pounds soaking fucking wet. He was bound to a rickety-ass chair, his face bloody from his clearly broken nose, and his slight form trembled.

"You or me, brother?" Nikolai prompted in a low, steady voice.

Although, outwardly, he appeared unaffected, cold, and keeping his shit together, I knew my brother better than anyone else. He wanted blood, and he wanted it now.

I stepped forward, feeling every part of me settle. I knew what had to be done, and then I knew what would happen afterward. This poor bastard was going to die tonight, and it was going to be slow and painful. For the simple fact that he knew the fucker who hurt Tatiana, his life would be forfeited.

It was the only way to make the message clear that no one fucks with the Petrovs.

I stood before Francis, and the scent of piss, blood, dirt, and excrement wafted up from him, making me shake my head in disgust.

The world wouldn't miss this fucker.

"You know why you're here," I said, my voice low and menacing. "You have information we need on the motherfucker who hurt our sister."

Francis started trembling even harder and shook his head frantically, blood and sweat dripping down his face. "I swear I don't know anything."

Nikolai let out a dark chuckle and stepped up next to me, so we were once again side-by-side. The glint of metal in my peripheral had me looking down at Nikolai's hand. He wielded a blood-covered knife, his knuckles white as he held it in an iron grip.

"Doesn't matter if you do or don't," Nikolai was the one to answer. "You're dying a slow and painful death tonight regardless."

I circled the chair, feeling like the predator I very much was, as he continued.

"Our sister Tatiana was attacked." Nikolai ran the tip of the dull blade along the side of Francis's head. "We want to know who did it. And you're going to tell us."

Francis started crying even harder, and my impatience grew.

"I don't know shit, man. Please. I was getting high all night. I couldn't tell you what time or even day it was."

I looked at Nikolai to see him grinning, his smile cold and devoid of any warmth. "You can tell us on your own, or I'll get the information out of you the hard way. I know which route I want to go, but I promise it isn't the one you want."

Nikolai slid the knife down to the man's carotid and pressed the blade in just enough it broke the skin and drew a thin line of blood.

I leaned in close, my mouth inches from Francis's ear. My voice was low and filled with deadly intention. " You can cry and bleed and piss your pants all fucking night. We have all the time in the world to get the information out of you."

Nikolai chuckled. "But you don't have all the time in the world. If I were you, I'd start talking."

Francis sobbed harder, snot bubbling out of his nose. "W-What do you want to know?"

I gritted my teeth, my patience wearing thin. I grabbed a chunk of hair at the back of his head and yanked it. "Tell us about the fight last week. I know there have been rumors about Tatiana getting attacked and someone taking out the man who did it."

"The lowlifes of Desolation can't keep their fucking mouths shut," Nikolai spat out.

Francis was quiet for a moment aside from the intermittent sounds of him sniffling. "Y-Yeah. Just shitheads talking. A new group coming up in their conversations. I didn't pay any attention because, truthfully, I was tapping a vein and didn't give a fu?—"

Nikolai pressed the blade harder into his neck. "Last chance, motherfucker."

Francis cried out and started stammering even more. "A-All I heard was that they… they c-call themselves The S-Stygian Syndicate, and… and… and the man wh o h-hurt your sister was p-p-part of th-their group."

Nikolai dragged the knife away and stood to his full height, looking at me with a cocked eyebrow. "What kind of dumb fucking name is The Stygian Syndicate for a crime organization?"

"A group that will soon be buried in the underworld they derived their fucking name from." I released my grip on Francis's hair, and the piece of shit's head slumped forward, the ropes keeping his body upright in the chair. "Who was the douchebag who hurt her?"

Spit and blood dribbled out of his mouth. While we hadn't punched him in the face—no matter how badly both of us craved to—our men roughed him up quite a bit while extracting him from the trap house, getting him here, and then binding him to his current seat.

"What does it matter now? He's dead," he mumbled.

So much for not punching him.

I slammed my fist into the back of his head, and he made a choking sound as the force caused the chair to crash forward. The spindly legs broke from the impact, the ropes loosening. But Francis was too injured to do much but squirm like the slimy worm he was.

"Q. His name was Q Rahman, and he was one of their enforcers."

Nikolai clucked his tongue. "You've been very helpful, Francis."

"Please. I don't want to die."

I stared at his arms when he rolled to his back, splintered wood all around him like some sort of broken, fucked-up frame. The crooks of his arms showed dirty track marks and countless scars.

"Your extracurricular activities say otherwise," Nikolai replied, and I lifted my gaze to my brother, seeing him move behind the junkie, the knife still in his hand. He crouched and grabbed a chunk of Francis's hair, yanking his head back so he was forced to look at Nikolai when he added, "In fact, we heard you've been drugging up some of the girls who walk the streets and using them in deplorable ways."

Francis shook harder, the truth of those words becoming obvious by the terror in his expression.

"You know how we operate. We have to make an example of those involved. Can't let anyone think they can look at us wrong, let alone make a move against us, without me slitting their throat in retaliation. "

I felt a smile spread across my face, listening to Nikolai. I knew it probably looked cruel and cold.

"And you're the start of getting that message across." My brother stared right at me, a grin cracking and spreading across his face as he brought that rusty blade across the junkie's neck. His flesh opened up in a macabre gap where blood immediately poured out and spurted like a broken waterline.

The druggie's screams sounded gargled and wet as he bled out, his blood spraying across Nikolai's crisp, white button-down shirt.

He let Francis go and stood once again, handing the blade to one of our men who stood near the doorway.

"Clean up the mess after you're done cutting him up. And then leave the pieces out on the street near where you picked him up, so everyone can fucking see what we do to motherfuckers who go against us." I watched as blood made a dark pool along the dirt-covered floor.

"Make sure the head sits atop the pile of limbs and his torso," Nikolai added, and I shook my head at his psychotic need to display that shit like a work of art.

After we left the warehouse, I met my brother at Sdat'sya, an establishment we owned. We sat at the bar, tossing back shots.

"Gotta find out more about this fucking rogue group."

I nodded at what Nikolai said and tossed back another shot. "Yeah, no doubt. But we have to be smart. Can't go off doing our own rogue shit and causing havoc, you hear me, brother?"

He snorted and looked at me. "Dmitry, you know damn well that's all we do… wreak havoc."

As I stared at him, I felt my grin spread. "True that." I nodded. "True fucking that," I said, my voice cold and final.

Nikolai huffed in agreement. "They'll all learn what it means to cross us."

They sure fucking would.