21. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Viktor

The door of my McLaren slams shut behind me with a satisfying thunk. I stride past the guards at the entrance of our family's abandoned factory, their deferential nods barely registering. Normally, I'd make some kind of spectacle of myself, maybe blow them a kiss or two just to see them squirm.

But not today.

I slip my psycho nun mask on as I make my way inside, the sleek crystalline material molding to my face like a second skin. It's my armor, my cape. When I wear it, I feel like the motherfucking Batman of murder.

I pause to double-check the bandage on my hand before tugging on leather gloves. Mouse just had to bite me earlier today when I tagged her.

Can't blame her, even Beckett winced in his drug-induced sleep when I injected the tracker into him.

He was in so much pain, Urgent Care prescribed him some percs. So, when he took them with the muscle relaxer, my grumpy boyfriend was practically drooling in his sleep.

It was the perfect opportunity.

A pathetic whimper draws my attention to the man crumpled on the concrete floor.

Noah.

The cumstain should've left town, but instead he stayed, which made it easy to find him, especially when he stands out like a sore thumb in Rosewood Bay. Same way scholarship students do at Crestwood University. And the residents—yeah, if you don't belong, get the fuck out.

Mom got involved. Turns out, Mrs. Knight had been up the road when the piece of shit threw Mouse into the road. She saw the whole debacle and called my mother.

My parents called a mandatory family meeting, which led to me telling them I'm dating my coach. Their faces paled, my father growling as he asked which one. Kinda odd, more so when I revealed it was Beckett because they exhaled dramatically, their shoulders slumping as if relieved.

I told them about Noah and what he did, then Mom made a few calls and here we are.

Alexei's looming over him, a disgusted sneer twisting his lips. He draws his foot back and slams it into Noah's side, the sickening crack of breaking ribs echoing through the cavernous space.

Noah howls, curling in on himself like the spineless worm he is. I click my tongue, unimpressed.

"We're just getting started, bitch boy. You ain't seen nothing yet."

"This going to be quick or painful?" Alexei asks as I stand beside him.

I shoot him a sharp grin, all teeth. "Oh, he's gonna scream. That's a fucking promise."

Right now, the infamous Petrov bloodlust from my mother's side is singing in my veins, the beast inside howling for Noah's head on a fucking platter.

And who am I to deny it?

"Don't make this too long. I want to spend time with my Solnyshko."

"I could've handled this myself. You didn't have to come. I know Feisty Mouse is excited to see you."

"Family first always, you dumb fuck."

I snicker and look at him. "Yeah, how long before you officially make him family? You know you want to."

I catch the way his lip twitches upward. Yup, my cousin's definitely been thinking about marriage.

A pained groan from the floor reminds me that I've got more pressing matters to attend to. Namely, beating Noah's face in until it looks like roadkill pizza.

I crouch next to him, wrinkling my nose at the sharp stench of piss and terror. Fucking pathetic.

"Wakey, wakey, cumstain." I sing-song the words, tapping his bruised cheek none-too-gently. "Time to pay the fucking piper."

"Fuck you," he slurs, blood bubbling over his split lips. "You crazy fucking bastard. You won't get away with this, I'll—"

"Shh, sweetie. Now, since you're going to die anyway, I'm gonna give you a choice. Which hand do you want me to start beating you with, left or right?"

"P-please," Noah stammers, tears and snot mingling with the blood on his face. Disgusting. "Please don't. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry—"

"Didn't ask for a fucking soliloquy." I snarl, patience evaporating as I fist my hand in his hair, wrenching his head back. He yelps, scrabbling weakly at my wrist. "Left or fucking right, shitstain. I won't ask again."

"Left! Left, please, God—"

"There. Wasn't so hard, was it?"

My fist slams into his face, the crack of cartilage like a symphony as his nose shatters beneath my knuckles. He howls, high and thin, thrashing under me. The second punch collides with his cheek, the third to his eye socket. Each blow lands with satisfying crunches, the noise fueling my relentless assault.

"Okay, that's enough playtime, boys." My mother's cool voice cuts through the haze of violence, startling me out of my trance. I look up, chest heaving as she makes her way to us, the heels of her boots clicking against the concrete floor.

"Mom." I straighten up slowly, shaking out my aching hand. "Nice of you to join the party."

She pinches the bridge of her nose, looking skyward as if praying for patience. "Amateurs, the both of you. No technique, no finesse."

"Here we go."

Instead of just letting me kill this fuckhead, she's going to make it into a lesson. Because that's what she does. Not the teaching, the killing. And she's good at it. The best.

My cousin crosses his arms in front of his chest. "What is wrong with hitting this flea?"

She pokes Alexei in the chest. "You play for the NHL. My son will too. Why ruin your hands or your feet, risk breaking bones for no reason? It's not smart. Will your team not ask questions?"

I huff because she just has to make a valid argument.

"How'd you know Alexei was kicking him? I didn't see you when I pulled up?"

"Another reason you two need more training." My mother points to the far end of the open room. Right next to a beam is a camera just out of view. "Do not think just because we own a building that you are safe. You must always be diligent."

My cousin lets out a string of curses in Russian.

"Okay, okay, message received." I'm getting twitchy, my knuckles are itching to get back to rearranging Noah's face. "Can I get back to beating this motherfucker's ass now?"

She rolls her eyes and waves me on.

Crouching back down, I fish a pair of scissors from the pocket of my sweatshirt, then turn Noah's head sideways. He fights me, but Alexei uses his foot to hold his head in place.

"No more," he rasps, barely comprehensible. "Please, God. No more. I'm begging you—"

"You hurt my boyfriend. You hurt and disfigured my little princess. Think it's time you learn what it feels like."

Using the scissors, I cut off the top inch of his ear. It's not easy and he screams and writhes, but this is what he did to Mouse. I hum as I sit back on my haunches, twirling the gory flesh between my fingers, admiring the way the blood gleams. It's almost pretty, in a visceral sort of way.

"You should've stayed away. Then again, I would've tracked you down. And cut your ear off. Maybe I would've let you live." I look up at my cousin. "Open his mouth for me."

Alexei bends, then grabs Noah's jaw, wrenching it open. I drop the piece of his ear into it.

"Swallow."

Noah shakes his head, but Alexei holds his mouth closed and pinches his nose, cutting off his air until his Adam's apple bobs. Not wanting to breathe the same air as this fuck another moment, I drop the scissors and take out my knife from my back pocket.

Grabbing a handful of Noah's hair, I yank his head up before I slam the knife into his neck. His eyes bulge as his mouth flops open and closed like a fish before I rip out the blade, then stab him through the eye, twisting the knife in the socket. When I release his hair, his head hits the ground with a resounding thunk.

"Not bad. Making him eat his own ear, definitely something your father would have done," Mom says as Alexei helps me up.

My body vibrates, legs shaking a bit from the adrenaline coursing through my veins. Alexei walks with me to his bag in the corner of the room. We strip down and change our clothes, throwing the bloodied ones—including our shoes—into the bag.

Two guards come in and my cousin hands one of them the bag as we exit with my mother. The men will take care of Noah's body.

"You two are going to Russia this summer. You need to work on some of your skills."

We both nod. No point in arguing.

She heads off and Alexei and I walk to our cars. He pulls out his phone and taps on the screen, then looks up at me. "You coming to dinner or going to your boyfriend?"

"Honestly, I want to shower," I say, opening the door to my car and tossing the mask inside. "But dinner sounds good. Need to calm down."

Tomorrow is finally the start of our lives. Beckett is free. He no longer has anything to worry about.