Chapter 20 - Dmitri

The room is cold—deliberately so. The concrete floor beneath my boots is rough, and the air is stale, carrying the faint scent of blood and sweat.

I stand in the middle of the room, watching as my men chain him to the chair in front of me. His head lolls to the side, but I can hear his labored breathing, the gurgle of blood in his throat. He's conscious enough to feel what's coming.

Once he's secured, I dismiss the men. They hesitate for a moment—used to seeing me composed, in control—but they leave without question. When the door closes behind them, the room falls silent, save for the shallow, wet rasp of Sergei's breathing.

I step forward, slowly, savoring the moment. He's barely able to lift his head, but I know he can hear me. He knows exactly who's standing in front of him.

"Sergei," I say, my voice calm, deliberate.

He coughs, blood spraying from his lips as he tries to form words. But I don't let him. I crouch down, just enough so that I'm eye level with him, and grip his jaw, forcing his head up. His eyes are swollen, barely open, but they flicker with recognition.

"You thought you could escape me, didn't you?" I ask, my grip tightening. "After all the years of hunting you, after everything you took from me, you thought you could just disappear and hide like the fucking coward you are."

Sergei coughs, the sound wet and desperate, and tries to raise his head. "Dmitri . . ." he croaks barely audibly. "Dmitri . . . fuck."

His eyes dart around the room, wild and pleading, like a cornered animal.

"Please," he begs again, louder this time, panic creeping into his tone. "I was wrong. I was wrong about everything. I—I'll do anything. Anything! Just . . . just let me live."

I raise his head to meet my eyes. His entire body is trembling. The pathetic sight of him disgusts me.

"I can give you money," Sergei says. "Power. Information on the Broker. Whatever you want! Just don't do this."

I let out a low, humorless chuckle as I pick up a pair of pliers, turning them in my hand. Sergei's eyes widen, and for the first time, I see genuine fear flicker in them.

He jerks against the restraints. "You don't need to do this. I can help you. I can make things right."

I step in front of him, holding up the pliers so he can see exactly what's coming.

He squirms.

I crouch down in front of him, gripping his left hand and pinning it against the arm of the chair. I place the pliers around his pinky finger, squeezing just enough for him to feel the pressure. Sergei's breath hitches, and he freezes, his eyes wide and wild.

"No . . ." he whispers, shaking his head frantically. "No—"

I squeeze the pliers tighter, and the bone snaps with a sickening crack. Sergei's scream rips through the air, so raw and desperate that it echoes off the walls. His entire body convulses.

I move to his ring finger next, positioning the pliers around it. His pupils dilate, his chest rising and falling in quick, uneven bursts as he instinctively tries to push himself further away.

The bone snaps again, and his scream is even louder this time. Tears stream down his face, mixing with the blood that's already dripping from his split lips.

"Please . . . please . . . please!"

Sergei's sobs echo off the cold walls, his body shaking uncontrollably. He's reduced to a pathetic mess of tears and blood. But then, in the midst of his begging, something shifts. His sobbing stops, and he lifts his head slowly, his eyes narrowing.

"You think you've won?" he rasps. "You think you've taken everything from me, but you're wrong, Dmitri. So wrong."

I say nothing as I watch the fight return to his eyes.

"You may kill me," Sergei snarls louder, sharper. "But your child, that bastard, my daughter, still has my blood in it. My blood! You'll never escape me, Dmitri. No matter what you do."

That does it.

His words hit me like a blow, and I feel the rage claw at me, begging to be unleashed. My hand trembles as I grip the pliers tighter, the cold metal biting into my palm.

I slam the pliers down onto his finger, the force so brutal that it crushes the bone completely. Sergei's howl of agony fills the room, louder than before. His body jerks violently in the chair. But I'm not done.

"How dare you," I growl, "How fucking dare you!"

I step back, chest heaving, and I drop the pliers to the floor. The satisfaction I thought I'd feel is buried beneath the roiling anger, and Sergei's final words echo in my mind like a curse I can't shake.

I step closer and grab him by the throat. "You will never touch them. Do you hear me?"

Sergei chokes, gagging as he tries to speak, but I tighten my grip, cutting off his air supply. His eyes bulge, and he starts to thrash in the chair, his hands shaking as his entire body fights for breath.

After a while, I remove my hand and wipe it clean with a cloth. "I shouldn't get myself dirty," I mutter, mostly to myself. "You're not even worth the effort."

"I've not fed my baby in a long while," I say and step away from Sergei, walking over to the other side of the room. "And he doesn't like being hungry. He can do terrible things when he's hungry."

Sergei's breath hitches, his body twitching in the chair. "What—what are you talking about?"

The door opens, and two of my men walk in, struggling as they carry something large between them. A heavy cage. Inside, coiled and silent, is my Johnny boy . His scales shimmer under the dim light, and he moves his thick body as if he senses he's going to have a big meal.

Sergei's eyes widen in terror, "No!" he screams. "No, no, no—get that thing away from me! Get it away!"

I smile a cold, detached smile, and nod to the men. They leave the cage at my feet and retreat, closing the door behind them.

Sergei thrashes in his chair. "Please, Dmitri! You can't—you can't do this! Please!"

I crouch down by the cage, unlatching it with a slow, deliberate motion. My baby stirs, his massive head lifting as I open the door. I reach in, patting his thick, muscular body, feeling the cold power he possesses.

"He's been hungry for a while," I say. "But I don't want to give him a dirty meal. You've made quite the mess, Sergei."

Sergei's screams grow louder, more desperate, as I pull the cage door open fully. "Dmitri! Please! Don't fucking do this! I'll do anything!"

My snake begins to move, uncoiling himself with a slow, almost lazy grace. His head turns toward Sergei, and his eyes lock on him, like he can already smell his fear.

I stand and step away, giving him space. "Eat your fill," I murmur.

Sergei is shrieking now, the sound raw and primal, his body writhing in the chair as if he can somehow escape. But there's no escape. Not for him. Not anymore.

I turn, not bothering to watch the inevitable. His screams are enough. They echo behind me as I walk toward the door. As I reach the door, I find Alexei, Irina, and Katya waiting just outside. Valentina didn't come—she didn't need to see this, not in her state. I'm glad she stayed behind.

I glance at them. "You don't have to stay," I tell them, my voice even. "The scene inside is about to get . . . gory. Unless you can stomach it, I suggest you leave now."

Alexei nods immediately. "I think I've seen enough," he mutters, walking past me without another word. Irina hesitates for a moment, her eyes flicking between me and the two-way mirror, but she follows Alexei.

But Katya—she doesn't move.

I look at her, our eyes locking for a long, silent moment. There's something in her expression. Her shoulders are rigid, and her lips are pressed into a thin line, but she stands, refusing to walk away.

"You're staying?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

Katya's jaw tightens, and she nods once. "I need to see it," she says quietly. "I need to see him die."

I study her for a moment, and in that instant, something shifts in my chest. My baby sister, the one I desperately wanted to protect from this life, is gone. What stands in front of me now is someone else. Someone hardened, someone who no longer needs me to shield her from the horrors of the world.

I nod and turn to walk down the hallway, following Alexei and Irina. Sergei's screams still echo faintly behind me, but they're distant now, fading into the background.

For me, this is just another chapter closing. But for Katya . . . I fear it's the start of something darker.