Page 29 of Surprise Bratva Daddy

"Anything," I grumble. "And then we burn the place down. We'll give him a taste of his own medicine."

Kiro gives me a funny look, and the men exchange glances.

"Sir, with all due respect, that might not be the best idea. We don't want to make ourselves too obvious," Kiro says. "The police already know about this. They'll be down here in a heartbeat."

"I said... burn it to the fucking ground. Live a little. Have some fun," I reply, thumping his chest with the back of my fist.

He smirks. "Well, when you put it like that. I can have the guys go and grab some gas and a few matches. Maybe a blanket to get the fire going."

"No need," I reply, matching his smirk with one of my own. "I already brought everything we need."

"Then let's get this party started," he says.

I turn and walk back outside. We're far enough away from the main road that no one will notice, and even if they do, there's nothing here that can tie us to this crime. The police will think that Maksim did it to hide what he was doing here, but Maksim will know that I was behind it. I don't want my little friend to go to jail. I want him dead.

Once the men have emptied the boxes and searched the area to no avail, we drag a bundle of old bedsheet and a can of gasoline inside to get the fire started. It feels like setting up a haunted house, tossing the sheets over everything, but the intoxicating smell of fresh gas tells another story.

Once everything is in place, I order the men out, and I let Kiro have the honor of lighting the first match. It's long one that I use for the candles at home, capable of burning for almost a minute before the fire eats at the end of the matchstick and burns your fingers. Kiro almost breaks it when he strikes it against the box.

Gas is a bit explosive when lit, so only a moment after the match is tossed into the building do the flames burst through the windows and start crawling up the sides.

It's beautiful, but I can't stand around admiring our work. We have to get out of here before someone calls the police. Plus, I want to get home before Monroe gets herself in trouble. There's no telling what she might be up to with free reign of my house.

19

Monroe

When the cat’s away, the mouse comes out to play.

I haven’t seen any of Zane’s guards inside the house since I came here. They’re all outside, pacing around the yard with rifles on their chests like this is a military complex. I don’t know if it makes me feel safer or more like a prisoner. Perhaps a safe prisoner.

Either way, this prisoner is about to discover all the secrets hidden in this giant mansion. With how large it is, there are bound to be things that Zane doesn't want anyone to know. He's a powerful man with a past, and his home holds the memories of everything that's ever happened here. There might literally be skeletons in the closet.

I start upstairs in the main hallway, looking for a locked door or a hidden passage. There are a lot of doors, but none of them are locked, and every single one is exactly what it's supposed to be. He doesn't use any of these rooms, but they're still furnished and ready to be used. It's odd.

I move on to the next floor, looking for anything that might give me a clue about who Zane is or what he does when no one's around. There's not a single piece of trash in this place. It's like he never eats, and his only hobby is drinking coffee and smoking cigars. Maybe he's just not home that often. I can see him being out a lot with the kind of work he does.

The more I explore, though, the more I realize that there are rooms that he uses, and he seems to be in them quite often. The library, for instance, has a carpet that’s so worn down from his shoes that I’m certain he spends every afternoon pacing there.

But that’s not the only place I find wear and tear. There’s a door that has a shiny brass handle, like it’s been polished by years of daily use. This room actually is locked, so I can’t get inside without a key.

Or without picking the lock.

It doesn't take me long to find a paperclip in one of the drawers downstairs. I come back and jiggle the clip around inside the lock until I hear the mechanism pop open. The door swings open, and all I can see is darkness.

My hand slides along the wall for a light switch, but there isn't one. The only source of light is the door behind me, so I'll have to feel my way around until I can figure out where the lights are.

I step into the room, feeling the soft carpet underneath my feet. I have a bad feeling, like I shouldn't be in here. There's this strange smell, oil and leather, but I can't figure out what exactly it is. The room is quiet, the silence broken only by the sound of my breathing.

My hands brush against a desk, and I lean forward, trying to get a sense of what's in here. Everything is pitch black, but it feels like an office. The leather smell is quite strong here, but it's more toward one corner of the room.

I pause at the desk, feeling around for a lamp or a light switch, but there isn't anything. My fingertips trace the top, and I realize it's a type of stone. Maybe a marble slab or something equally as expensive.

My hands slide down to the edge of the desk, and a wave of fear washes over me. I can hear my heart beating faster in my chest, and I'm sweating, cold and sticky. I swallow, feeling a lump forming in my throat.

I'm not alone in here.

"I see you've found my torture room," Zane's voice rumbles from behind me.

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