Page 80 of Shot For Mercy

I stand upright as he snaps the wrist restraints on, and then I let go and let my body hang. My shoulders scream in pain, my hands tingling, but at least I feel something. Yet I bet I won’t want to feel anything in a minute, if the whip Sokolov is holding is any indication. He paces circles around me, and when he’s in front of me, he snaps the whip against his hand softly. I don’t even flinch, and it bothers him. I’ve never been flogged before, and the thought of it is terrifying, but there’s nothing I can do about it anymore, so I’m not going to sit here and cry.

“Here’s how this is going to go,” Sokolov says as he looks into my eyes. His icy blue orbs peer into my soul, and I wonder if he can taste my fear. Maybe he can, because he grins widely and nods. “I’m going to ask you some questions, and you’re going to answer them. If you don’t, I’ll have to whip you.”

“Might as well get started.” I sigh. “I’m not telling you shit.”

“Where is warehouse number seven?” he asks, his tone laced with curiosity. “And what do you store there?”

“I don’t know,” I lie.

Sokolov grins and comes around to my back, and I hear the crack of the whip before it lands on my skin. It’s a deep burn, a different kind of pain, but I bite my bottom lip and keep my grunt in. I refuse to show weakness. I fucking refuse.

“Who’s the accountant of The Pink Pony Club?” he asks.

“What the fuck don’t you understand? I’m not going to talk,” I say through gritted teeth, and he chuckles like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard.

“Very well,” he whispers, and then I’m being flogged again.

And again.

And again.

He spends more time asking questions I refuse to answer, and before I know it, my back feels raw. I can feel the blood running down my skin, and when I hear the crack of the whip against my flesh once more, I flinch and stand up on my tip-toes. He laughs loudly and does it again, and I hold back a scream. My bottom lip is bloody and bruised, abused from biting on it, but I’m not going down without a fucking fight. Quite frankly, the pain from my mouth grounds me, and for a split second I can ignore the one on my back. But it’s short-lived, because that pain is worse.

“You really are stubborn, aren’t you?” He doesn’t sound put out by my silence at all, but he finally stops. “What is it going to take for you to talk?”

“Me with no pulse,” I reply with a grin. “Maybe I’ll haunt you from my grave.”

“Who said you’ll have a grave?” He comes around to face me and grins. “No, Cole. You’re going in the river where no one will ever find you. Not your precious Emiliano, or your dear Matty.”

I frown at the mention of Matteo’s nickname, suddenly wondering how he knows about it. He must sense the confusion, or maybe he sees it on my face, because his grin widens.

“I know everything about you,” he says slowly. “I know your stepfather beat your mom to death, just like I know Emiliano killed him. This is common knowledge. It’s no wonder you fell in love withMatty. He was the only one there for you, wasn’t he?”

I’m quiet, but he’s not wrong, and he knows it.

“Maybe I’ve been doing this all wrong.” He sighs. “I’ll have to take him and find out. Make him scream real pretty for me. What do you think?”

“Don’t you dare fucking touch him,” I say through gritted teeth.

“Possessive.” Sokolov laughs, “I wonder how Emiliano feels about that.”

I flinch, and he just laughs harder.

Anger bubbles up inside of me, and I stand on my toes again. I swear to God, if he comes any closer, I’ll kick his face in. I don’t give a fuck if I dislocate my shoulders in the process. It’s over for me, anyway.

Pain shoots down my back as I move, and I wince. He sees it and smiles, but then turns away from me, looking for something.

“You,” he yells, pointing at a guard. “Let him down and take him to the water.”

I begin to shake with fear. I can’t help it.

My teeth begin to chatter, clacking together painfully, and when the guard lets me down and my skin pulls taut as my arms fall down to my sides, I have to blink away the tears in my eyes. Maybe if I cry under the water, they won’t notice. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. Right before I inhale it.

Goodbye, world.

It was a good run. But I’m tired now.

The urge to sob as the guard pushes me down to my knees in front of the basin is strong, but I inhale deeply and keep the tears at bay once more. Sokolov stands across from me, waiting patiently as the guard places my body over the lip of the basin, grabbing onto my hair roughly, and I don’t even struggle. I just let it happen.

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