Page 18 of Stalked

“Hold your right hand out,” I demand. Too slow for my liking, Boris shakes as he holds his hand out. Kyler steps forward and when I give him the slightest nod, only Kyler knows what I mean. He pulls his hand machete from behind his back, swinging it down onto Boris' right hand. Cutting it clean off, blood sprays everywhere, and he screams at the top of his lungs. Gasps fill the room before it becomes dead silent.

“When I give a fucking order…” Backing away from Boris, I face my men. “I expect you ALL TO FUCKING OBEY!” I yell. I wasangry before, but now I’m furious. It takes everything in me to not truly kill Boris. But now with one less hand, maybe he’ll get himself killed. The enemy can take care of the dirty work for me.

“Da, Pakhan,” everyone yells, some of them frowning at Boris, who’s barely awake with the amount of blood dripping onto the floor.

“Gabriel is off limits,” I say, hoping this doesn’t come back to bite me in the ass. I need to make a trip back to Russia and tell my father that I apparently don’t seem to be all that straight. But the thought of even leaving Gabriel, makes my skin crawl, my inside burn. I’ll probably just have to force him to come with me. One way or the other. I don’t think it would be that hard. Finally sitting down and talking to him, it’s not all that bad. Though he did most of the talking, that chatterbox.

“If I see you talking to him, I’ll cut your tongue off. If I see you touching him, I will chop your hand off. None of you will speak to him or touch him. Do I make myself clear?”

“Da, Pakhan.”

“Disrespect him and you’re disrespecting me. Do it, and I will kill you.”

“Da, Pakhan.”

“Boris is just an example of what I will do if you touch him,” I state, turning back towards Boris, as he stands holding his hand against his chest. The fucker is probably going to bleed out from the looks of it.

“Boris, kneel.”

Getting to his knees, I step over in front of him. “Stick your tongue out.”

Boris shakes his head, tears rolling down his cheek. Holding my hand out, Kyler places a knife into my waiting hand before stepping behind Boris. Nodding once more, Kyler grips Boris' head, holding him tight. I hear movement in the door, but I don’t look. I expect it’sGabriel, not being able to follow my simple order. Good, let him watch the monster I am.

Prying his jaw open, I rip his tongue from his mouth, taking the knife I cut through his tongue. Blood soaks his chin, pouring to the ground. My hands are soaked, and when I hold his tongue up, I hear a faint whisper, “Oh fuck.” My head snaps to the door, where Gabriel is sure enough watching. Gone pale white, he swallows but doesn’t back away.

“Let this be a lesson,” I growl, switching to English. I shove his tongue back into his mouth. Kyler steps back, narrowing his eyes at the men. Boris falls to his side, his body going limp. “Fail to listen to my orders and this will be you.”

Guess no one is going to have to kill him since I just did.

Turning my back to everyone, I walk towards Gabriel who slowly backs out but doesn’t run. Interesting. The moment I slam the door closed, Gabriel looks towards the house, probably debating if he could make it there before I caught him.

“Are you going to hurt me?” he asks, twisting his fingers together. Something I’ve noticed he does when he’s nervous or unsure of himself.

“Do you want me to hurt you?” I ask, pulling out another cigarette.

“I, well, I don’t really do well with pain.” His eyes drop to my cigarette and bloody arm. I’m not sure I like that answer, but I won't comment. I don't want to spook the poor man, even if I did just cut a man's tongue out for him.

“Are you some sort of hitman?”

Tilting my head to the side, I wonder what he knows about them. I’ve met a few, the most popular, Devil, but he was killed over fifteen years ago by Killian. Devil turned out to have been a long-lost friendof Killian and Aziza but held a grudge against Aziza for some reason. He ended up kidnapping and torturing her for a day before some girl broke her out and Killian left to kill him. I don’t know or remember too much of that time because I was seven and my parents decided to go back to Russia when Blake was born.

Then there was The Butcher, which no one has heard from or about in years. Two rumors circle around, that he’s either dead or retired. Either way, from the stories, The Butcher is not someone you ever want to meet.

Realizing I’m still staring at him, I shake my head, motioning for us to start walking towards the house. Gabriel sighs and starts walking ahead.

“Please tell me you didn’t just kill him because of me,” Gabriel finally speaks, filling the silence.

I debate telling him that it is all his fault. But that isn’t entirely true. “No, Boris, the guy, he has an issue with orders, and while that’s fine in some areas, it’s not okay when I’m his boss, and he knows what he can and can’t do.”

“Hmmm, boss? So, what do you do then, to be a boss?”

“Well, I was born into it. I didn’t have much of a choice.” Rushing, I open the back door leading into the kitchen. When was the last time I opened a door for someone else?

“Thank you.” Gabriel smiles, his cheeks turning a tint of pink. I shouldn’t feel my sides turning at knowing I made him blush. But fuck, it feels good.

“You hungry?” I ask. I’d do just about anything to keep him here talking, just to be around him.

“I could eat. It’s been a few hours.” Gabriel chuckles, eyes darting around the kitchen. “But I have to warn you, I’m not a good cook. I don’t imagine you’re a cook, not to be rude. You just don’t look likea type that would cook. My sister's husband cooks a lot.” Gabriel’s cheeks turn a bright shade of red, realizing he’s giving me more information than he’d probably like.

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