Page 30 of Shadows of the Past
He won’t last long now; he’ll bleed out within minutes at this rate.
I turn toward my tools on the nearby table. There’s still work to be done if Ivan’s message is going to be clear enough, but then I hear it: the sound of a drawer sliding open behind me.
Fiodor has managed to grab the gun from his nightstand despite being pale from blood loss and trembling like a leaf.
The problem? His aim is most likely shit, pathetic even, and he’d better hope he doesn’t push me into an even fouler mood tonight.
Bloodstains are absurdly difficult to get out of clothes, and I’m not wearing my usual black shirt that hides the evidence.
Fiodor watches me approach with a portable welding tool in hand. I notice the trembling in his grip as he holds the gun, but I close my eyes for a brief second, steadying myself.
The click of the trigger snaps me into motion, and I shift three inches to the left just in time. The bullet misses me completely.
“Please,” Fiodor whispers, his voice barely audible.
I tune out his desperate pleas and fire up the welding tool, pressing the searing tip against his kneecaps. The bones crack and splinter under the heat, ensuring he’ll never run again, in this life or the next. As he writhes in agony, I unbutton his nightshirt and, with deliberate precision, begin to engrave the word “gold” in Russian across his chest.
The stench of burning flesh is nauseating, even to me, but Ivan will appreciate the message.
Fiodor’s eyes lock onto mine, wide with terror, as I pull out my blade and drag it horizontally across his throat with finality. His pupils dilate for a fleeting moment before the light begins to fade from them.
Leaning in close, I whisper softly, “Save me a seat next to you in hell, friend.”
I step into the bathroom to clean myself up, staring at my reflection in the mirror. What’s two more souls weighed against hundreds already on my conscience?
Nothing.
And yet, as I stand there, it hits me. I’m condemned. There’s no escape for me. But for them? For the ones I fight for? There’s still hope.
I promise, Vera.
Chapter 13
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Julia
My head's about to explode.How the hell does he expect me to learn all of this in just a few hours?
My terminal is flooded with errors, and I’m almost certain I broke something because there’s an app repeatedly flashing “Connection Lost” in bright red.
Aaah.At this rate, I’ll never escape. If I can’t prove useful to Maksim, he’ll tire of keeping me around and throw me back to that monster.
For a brief moment, I feel a phantom touch, and a flash of golden tooth flickers in my mind.
Snap out of it, Julia.
It’s past midnight when the bedroom door opens and piercing gray eyes lock onto me. He looks darker, heavier than he did when he left, and before I even think, I’m up and walking toward him.
“Hey, are you okay?”
My question hangs in the air, unanswered. I watch as he shrugs off his jacket, then his shirt, and without meaning to, I catch sight of faint red stains around the cuffs.
Right. It was one of those nights.
When he turns to toss the clothes onto a chair, a scent wafts into my nose. It’s not his scent.
It’s something cloyingly sweet, cheap, and obnoxiously artificial, and without warning, a flicker of anger shoots through me.
