68. Antonio

The nerve gas has been disposed of, as have the two assholes doing the dirty work.

Nikitin is here, and the devil is dancing inside me, impatient to get his chance with that fucker.

I let Will’s people take a turn with him, and then Mikhail. Lucas is softening him up for me now.

I’m packing, because as soon as I have what I want from that bastard, I’m out of here.

A bolt of lightning pitches the dim room into a scathing light. I glance out the window. A hurricane is forecast to make landfall in the next few hours. But right now, it’s pouring, with an occasional roar of thunder that I imagine as whooping and clapping from the demons gathered in hell, awaiting their favorite son. He’ll be joining them soon.

Lucas comes into the living room as I toss my duffel bag near the door. “He copped to the hitman, to abducting Cristiano, and to the gas, but that’s it. He’s not ready for you. But the weather’s deteriorating quickly and if you want to get out, you’re going to have to leave soon.”

If the meteorologists are to be believed, the hurricane could keep me here for another week. Seven more days away from Daniela. Seven days for whatever wounds I’ve caused to fester.

I check the weather app on my phone. No change. My time is running out faster than Nikitin’s.

If Lucas says he’s not ready, he’s not ready. We haven’t had him long enough, and time is everything when torturing a man for information. Everything.

I glance at Lucas. There’s nothing I can get out of Nikitin that a determined Lucas can’t. Or Mikhail, who is Bratva to the core. They want him almost as much as I do.

But I want revenge on my terms. I want the end to be brutal. I want to revel in his screams. I want his blood to rain over me. I want memories of the death stench to lull me to sleep tonight.

The wind howls, battering the shutters. The lights flicker, but they don’t go out.

“Let me take a whack at him.”

I stride through the house, to the room where the prisoner is being held. When I get there, I grab a chair and straddle the back.

Nikitin’s been bloodied. His left eye is swollen shut and his bottom lip is split. The prisoner’s hanging from a rafter, with his toes grazing the floor.

It’s taking everything I have to remain seated. I’ve waited so long for this moment, and I want my justice now.

But that’s not how it works.

“I see you’ve been served an appetizer to welcome you.”

“I can help you, Huntsman. I have information. I have money. We can make a deal.”

Sure we can. What a stupid fucker. “What kind of information?”

“About the Bratva.”

“I don’t give a shit about the Bratva. Tell me about the plane that blew up over the Atlantic. The one carrying my mother. Then maybe we can deal.”

“I had nothing to do with killing your mother. Nothing,” he cries.

He’s not ready to give up anything of consequence. I can already tell. He needs time to think about his plight. He needs to be hanging higher off the floor so that his arms feel like they’re going to fall off. It’s going to take time. It always does.

Thunder rocks the foundation, and a bolt of lightning illuminates the room. The lights go out, and seconds later, the generator kicks on.

I have a decision to make. I can torture this man, and after he tells me everything he knows, I can take my revenge for my mother’s death. Or I can leave while I can still get out, and go to my wife to ask for forgiveness. If I choose Daniela, someone else will have to finish this. I can’t have everything. Not today.

Either way he’ll be dead, justice will be served, and Daniela and Valentina will have a more normal life. So will I.

Thunder booms, and the lightning strike follows immediately. The window is closing.

I pause to listen to my churning gut. In this moment, the pull to Daniela is far greater than even the revenge.

With unwavering resolve, I get up and go to my prisoner. The one I’ve hunted for weeks. “You’re not worth another moment of my time.” I plunge the knife into his side, careful not to nick anything that would kill him too soon.

He screams like a little girl. It’s an addictive sound, feeding a craving that’s been gnawing at my soul.

I want more.

But I step back, until he’s out of reach.

“Find out everything. Then end him. Make it slow and painful. I want confirmation of death.”

I hand Lucas my knife and walk away.