Page 3 of Surrender: XXX Maxim
Chapter Two
In reference to the dismemberment of a human body, I discover that “now” isn’t as speedy as it sounds.
It takeshoursto render the body to nothing more than bloody chunks haphazardly shoved onto a sheet of plastic for easy disposal. Maxim and Milton work ruthlessly in sync to sever muscle and tendon and bone.
At the very back of my skull, I know the gruesome nature of what I’m watching. I know that the lifeless pieces collecting onto the floor once belonged to a living, breathing human.
I justpretendthey’re nothing more than inanimate chunks of meaningless matter.
Time and space blur into one dizzying realm as I watch the grim display. I’m only aware of the passing hours at all because Milton takes meticulous note of them. “It’s been two hours,” he says at one point. “Another hour, you think?”
Maxim merely grunted in acknowledgment—though by then, the sound of my pulse surging through my eardrums drowned out any other noise.
I should have vomited at some point. A normal, sane human would. Maybe I did.
By the time the final, grisly piece is shoved out of sight, my knees are buckling. My stomach is a fucking mass of Jell-O balanced between my ribcage. I can’t speak. Move. Even scream.
I merely stare as, together, Maxim and Milton bundle the mess between them and haul it to the door.
The sound it makes…
I’ll hear it forever. A dragging hiss, followed by a wet, heavy thud.
“Fuck.” Maxim hisses, eyeing a trail of ruby speckling the concrete in their wake. He starts to lower the morbid parcel, but I’m already at his side. The world jolts as I sway, off-balance, and clumsy.
I don’t know what possesses me. Shock? I’m a mass of trembling, quaking limbs as I wrench my dress over my head and sink to my knees. Wadding the fabric between my fingers, I start scrubbing and scrubbing.
But the stains never disappear. Instead, the red drops multiply into an endless stream.
They’re suddenly everywhere, coating everything within sight—blood-red blood.
“Enough!” Maxim rips the fabric from me, and in one quick motion, the red streaks vanish, easily swept away. “Where the fuck do we dump him?” he wonders, directing the question beyond me. “The river? The landfill?”
“We destroy it,” Milton calls from the doorway. “I know a guy who runs a furnace. He’s good. We won’t be traced. I’ll make the arrangements while you work on crafting an alibi. Anatoli won’t take long to suspect the truth, but you don’t have to make it easy for the old cunt.”
Coldly and calmly, he wipes most of the blood from his hands with a handkerchief and casually drops the soiled cloth onto the plastic mound at his feet. “And to stop your paranoia from going bat-shit, I’ll make some calls to my people. Plant rumors to stall the inevitable. Anatoli isn’t a fool. Sevastyn was a loyal bitch, and his master will notice when he no longer comes to heel with his fucking tail wagging. With a little more planning, we could havecrafted a more believable disappearance…”
“Go on and say it,” Maxim scoffs. “I shouldn’t have killed him. Not like this. It’s fucking sloppy.”
“You shouldn’t have killed him,” Milton agrees. “But that isn’t why I’m concerned.”
“Oh?”
A frown distorts Milton’s otherwise emotionless visage. “You claimedSevastynwas the one disrupting your supply lines. You sure of that?”
“It makes sense.” Maxim returns to his full height and tosses my bloodied dress aside. Concentration consumes him, tightening the line of his jaw. He doesn’t even seem to notice or care that I’m entirely naked, without even a pair of underwear. “Why? Have you learned new information?”
“Maybe.” Milton looks down at his hands, flexing them one by one. “I didn’t want to bring this to you until I was absolutely certain, but my men may have made headway in discovering the true culprit…” He looks up to meet Maxim’s gaze directly. “I don’t think it was Sevastyn.”
“Fuck. Then who?” Maxim’s upper lip pulls back from his teeth as he strokes a bloodied finger along his chin. “A rival? No. If it were someone well known, I would have narrowed it down by now.”
“Someone we both always seem to underestimate.” Milton’s gaze drifts toward me and then back to Maxim. “Someone who might enjoy disrupting your supply lines if only to prove that he could.”
“No…” Maxim shakes his head. “No. Even he wouldn’t dare.”
“Wouldn’t he?” Amusement tilts the corner of Milton’s mouth. “You never could predict Vadim. Though, maybe it’s about time you finally set aside your—”
“I said no.” The crunch of clenching teeth cuts the silence like a gunshot. “Don’t even say his name—”
