Page 116 of No Promises, No Lies

“Where’s Aidan? Tell me he’s still alive, Niko, please.” I plead with him and his blue eyes cloud with concern at my distress. “Last I heard, yes. He’s alive but—” he looks at me, his face tight.

“But what…” I urge him on.

“He’s at the mansion. Adrik has him.”

68

WE’LL KILL YOU FOR THIS

AIDAN

The glamour and perfection of the Russian mansion do not extend to the shadowy depths of its basement. No, the Russian Lion has himself his very own private dungeon and torture chamber where he can delight in torturing his enemies within the confines of his own home.

It’s freezing. There are no windows, but a cold draft has somehow found its way into the dark room, wrapping around my bare chest, my shirt was the first thing to go when they shackled me to an ice-cold metal chair, the feet of which are bolted to the floor. A familiar drain is cut into the stone.

I should consider myself lucky to have scored the chair. A variety of chains decorate the dirty and blood stained walls. A wall ofinstrumentscomprises the entire far wall. The Russians sure seem to enjoy prolonging death in the most gruesome ways imaginable.

“You dumb fuck,” Petr mutters from where he stands under the rack of various sharp tools, picking up a hammer and looking it over. The tool is still coated with someone else’s dried blood.

I test my restraints for what is likely the hundredth time; the ropes have already cut into my skin. Blood leaks from the raw wounds, dripping down to the floor.

Petr clicks his tongue, setting the hammer back down and picking up a dull, rusty knife. “Should’ve known better than to mess with the boss’s plans.” He turns back to me, running the dirty blade between his fingers. “We thought we could leave you boys alive after, you know, killing your father.” Petr’s icy blue eyes flash maliciously and I grind my teeth. A dirty white rag cuts deep into my lip, keeping me silent.

A cruel smile graces the Russian consigliere’s face as he reaches out and grabs hold of my jaw, wrenching it up so I’m forced to look at him. “Still crying over daddy Ace? Wanna hear how we made him go boom?” His smile widens when he sees my eyes flash with a mixture of rage and pain.

He drops my jaw, moving his hand down and slashing his knife hard against my chest. Again. I bite down on the gag and lift my chin, breathing hard but refusing to scream out from the pain of the dull blade cutting through my skin.

“That’s my specialty, you know?” Petr holds up the knife, watching my blood drip off the tip with delight. “Car bombs.”

I glare back at him. A promise of death.

“They were all the rage back in the day. Maybe I’ll bring them back into style. One car bomb at a time,” he laughs, enjoying this. He sets his knife back down on the table, trading it for a thick metal rod. “This would be a fun toy to use on your little girlfriend.”

I tense in my seat, and Petr notices. Excitement is his expression grows at my obvious distress. He looks me in the eye as he thrusts the rod suggestively in his closed hand, a wicked grin on his face.

My fists tighten, putting further stress on my already abused wrists as my knuckles go white, losing feeling in my fingers.

“Adrik has to give her to Cole,” Petr drawls, coming closer, “but she’s embarrassed him, so I’m sure Cole will give us the green light to punish her. Teach the little bitch to mind herplace.” He whips the rod back before driving it hard into my side, probably crushing a kidney. I let out a groan of pain and work to catch the breath the hit stole from me.

“Or maybe we’ll scare her a little first. That first car bomb wasn’t intended for her—she was supposed to be somewhere else—but maybe this time we’ll makeherthe target.”

Petr continues on, but I stop listening, wondering what he meant when he said, “The first car bomb wasn’t meant for her?” A car bomb killed Rory’s mother. Rory had been too close, was thrown back hard from the impact. It fucked up her head and almost ended her ice career… Herlife.

My eyes lock on Petr and I see him notice when I connect the dots. “I’ll end her dreams for real next time.” I lunge for him, only to collide viciously with the ropes binding me, and I’m thrown back in my seat, heaving.

Petr erupts in laughter. Succeeding at his goal to rattle me.

The sound of the steel door wrenching open interrupts our lovely little chat. The large menacing frame of Nikolai Kostalov fills the doorway.

“Petr, you’re needed upstairs,” Niko cocks his head toward the hall, snapping his fingers like he’s commanding a dog.

Amusement fades from Petr’s face, his expression darkening. His hold tightens on the metal pipe for half a second before he simply lets it fall at his feet. The clanging of metal against stone is nearly deafening in the small space.

“Da, Nikolai,” Petr mumbles before stalking past him.

The Russian heir doesn’t bother stepping out of his way, making Petr squeeze around him to exit the room.

As Petr’s footsteps fade away, Niko turns his attention to me.

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