Page 47 of Lethal Devotion
Konstantin regards Igor coolly. “Your sister is a teacher, right? At the elementary school? And your nephew, he goes to daycare two streets over from your house.”
The color drains from Igor's face. "How do you?—"
"I make it my business to know about the families of everyone who works for me," Konstantin says smoothly, pausing to let that sink in. "But here's what you need to understand, Igor. The people who threatened your family? They're not going to be in a position to hurt anyone much longer. But if you don't start talking, I might not be able to guarantee your family's safety from other threats."
I know Konstantin would never hurt a woman and child. But Igor doesn’t. His breathing picks up, and I can feel the genuine fear wafting off of him.
"It was Giovanni Russo," he whispers. "His capo, Tony, approached me two weeks ago. Said they knew about my gambling debts, about how much I owed to the wrong people. They offered to clear the debt and pay me fifty thousand on top of it.”
"In exchange for what, exactly?" I ask sharply. I press the tip of my boot against his injured hand, and Igor lets out a yowl.
"Access codes,” he gasps, his voice breaking as I tilt my boot, increasing the pressure. “Guard schedules. The layout of the mansion." Igor's voice breaks. "They said they just wanted to send a message. Make you rethink how you do business. I didn’t think?—"
“You’re right.” Konstantin’s voice is cold. “You didn’t think. What else?”
Igor’s lips press together, and Konstantin nods to me. This time, I break two fingers. When Igor’s screams die down, Konstantin gives him a pointed look.
“The fingernails start coming off when you run out of fingers to break,” I say coolly. “Start talking, Igor. I’m running out of patience. It’s three fingers, next time.”
“What else?” Konstantin repeats, and Igor lets out a pained, ragged sob.
"They wanted to know about your wife's routine. When she left the estate, where she went, who went with her." Igor is shaking now, and Konstantin’s face hardens.
"How were you supposed to communicate with them?" Konstantin asks.
"Burner phone. I was supposed to text when the job was done."
"And if you didn't?"
Igor's face crumples. "They said they'd assume I'd been compromised. That they'd tie up loose ends."
"Your family," I say flatly.
He nods, tears streaming down his face now. "I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I never wanted anyone to get hurt. I just... I was in so deep, and they said it would be easy money, and?—"
"Shut up," Konstantin cuts him off. "Your reasons don't matter. Your regret doesn't bring Mikhail back to life. And it doesn’t change the fact that you’re a traitor.” He looks at me, and then back at Igor. “You sent the text, I assume?”
Igor nods miserably.
“Good. Then your family is safe. You can die knowing that, at least.” He looks at me, and motions for the door. “Take him somewhere else. I don’t want any more blood on my rug.”
Igor is a gasping, sobbing, shaking mess by the time we make it out to a shed behind the estate. He doesn’t die with dignity. He has to be forced to his knees, held in place as I put a gun to his head, relishing in his anguish for a moment before I pull the trigger.
When his body slumps to the ground, I stare down at it. I’ve never felt such an intense satisfaction from a death before. But this man endangered Sienna. This was personal. It’s never been so personal, and something squirms in my gut, an uncomfortable sensation that my life has become complicated now, in ways that I never wanted it to be.
The adrenaline is still pumping through my veins when I head back into the house. I pass Valentina, who looks a bit shaken but resolute, and she pauses.
“I took Sienna and Adam back upstairs,” she says. “Adam is all settled, and Sienna is in her room, if you want to see her.”
I nod quickly. “Thanks.” I’m already headed for the stairs before the word is even fully out of my mouth. It’s not just that I want to see her. I need to see her. I need to see that she’s alright with my own two eyes.
And there’s something else, too, vibrating in my veins, along withthe adrenaline. A feeling that goes beyond desire, beyond lust, that surpasses anything else I’ve ever felt before.
I can’t put a name to it. But I can’t wait a second longer to see her.
I don’t know what I’m going to do until I’m already in her room, barging in without bothering to knock, kicking the door shut behind me. I feel almost drunk, as if every part of me is vibrating on the inside, and I see Sienna sitting on the bed, her knees tucked up to her chest. She jumps when I enter the room, and I go straight to her, nearly lifting her off of the bed and into my arms as I reach for her.
“You’re safe,” she breathes, and for one moment, for a split second, I’m not thinking about how young she is or how indebted she is to me, or any of the other reasons why I shouldn’t touch her. All I hear is the sound of her voice whispering those words, like she means them, like she’s the first woman in the world to ever care if I came back safe.
