Page 118 of Shadows of the Past
“You think you were the only one abused?” Aleksandr sneers. “Maybe I wasn’t as pretty as you, but there are plenty of ways to break a person,cousin. At least you got something out of it. Me? I stood by him through every rape and murder, and what did I get? NOTHING! Just because he wanted you as his heir, when you reek of lost causes and savior complexes.”
Max’s fists twist in Aleksandr’s shirt, searching for something in his eyes.
“I’D GIVE IT ALL BACK, JUST TO ERASE HIM FROM MY MIND!”
“That’s why you were always weaker than me even if the old man never saw it. I accepted the abuse, embraced it, became exactly what he wanted. And for what? So he could leave everything to a stranger, someone who doesn’t even share his blood?”
How can someone be so empty? This man led hundreds of children to their deaths, tortured souls without a flicker of remorse.
“It’s okay, Aleksandr. I’ve got an inheritance for you too. And it’s soaked in blood.”
All I hear is a sharp scream as Maksim’s blade sinks deep into Aleksandr’s abdomen.
Chapter 44
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Maksim
I want to see red. And honestly, I doubt there’s enough blood left in Aleksandr’s body to satisfy this hunger, but I’ve always been persistent.
My blade plunges deep, right where his spleen should be. I hope he feels every cell unraveling, every fiber tearing under the steel. His screams are everything I expected—high-pitched, pathetic. I’ve seen children endure more pain than this man, and it doesn’t surprise me that, faced with the same cruelty he inflicted, he can’t last five minutes.
“I know you like to cut them,” I murmur with a smile, letting him see exactly what’s coming. He won’t leave this place alive, and I want my face burned into his memory, one of the last things he ever sees.
I thought about calling Andrea in, but after our last call, it was clear she never wanted to look at him again. All she said was, “Cut him, and if you have to, sew him back up just to do it again.” That’s exactly what I intend.
When I’m satisfied he’s felt enough, I twist the blade as I pull it free, making sure I’ve ruined everything inside. The knife leaves shallow cuts tracing his skin, just deep enough to let the blood run. He deserves to be drained dry, but I want his death to be personal. I drag the blade higher, toward his chest.
Before the steel touches him, he spits out a final taunt, voice raw and broken. “Too bad I never got to cut Vera. She would’ve looked divine with my blade on her thighs.”
He said her name.He dared to stain her memory with his mouth. Without hesitation, I slice off his nipples, watching the flesh drop to the floor. His scream is sharp enough to rattle my bones, but it’s not enough. Not after he stood by and let her be abused. Not after Andrea begged him to stop. Not after he exploited Zoya’s illness for information.
I keep cutting, carving deep lines down his back and arms until he’s nothing but a fountain of red. Time blurs. No one stops me. He’s already slipping into shock, his body trembling, his skin ghostly pale. I step back, the knife heavy in my hand, watching as his blood pools around him.
He deserves exactly what Andrea wished for—to be stitched up and torn open again. But looking at him now, all I see is a pitiful shadow of a man, someone who preyed on innocence and never understood what it meant to have a soul.
All I want now is to leave this place and force myself to forget. To forget every insult, every moment I could barely breathe, every second my lungs burned as I begged for mercy.
I sense Julia before I see her, her scent cutting through the metallic tang of blood and bringing a breath of fresh air into this suffocating space. She slips the knife from my hand and steps forward.
“Julia…,” I start, but she’s already in front of him.
She grabs Aleksandr by the hair, forcing his battered face up. His eyes barely open, glazed and unfocused.
“I made myself a promise years ago,” she says, her voice steady, cold. “You don’t know what it is, but I’ll tell you now, because you’re going to make sure it comes true. I swore I’d takeyour eyes out. And now that I know you looked at my sister, cabrón, you’re lucky I’m not tying you to a hospital bed just so Max can start all over again. So do us both a favor and hold still for a few seconds.”
She raises the blade, the edge glinting in the harsh warehouse light. Aleksandr coughs, blood flecking his lips, and spits out his last words, defiant even now.
“Lupe will never forget me.”
“Maybe so, but she’ll have a long life—you won’t. She’ll get the love she deserves, while you rot in some unmarked grave. There’s nothing sadder than being forgotten, and that’s all you’ll ever be. Forgotten. Just a grain of sand that once passed over this earth.”
“Lupe’s going to ha—”
Julia’s hand drives the blade through his eye. She doesn’t care about the blood splattering her skin. She doesn’t care about his thrashing. All she cares about is that he dared to say her sister’s name again. That he came close enough to seduce her. That he dared to break her heart.
Aleksandr’s scream is cut short, replaced by ragged, desperate breaths. His body sags, finally spent, with his venom and his legacy leaking out onto the cold concrete.
