Page 22 of Ruinous Need
“Helping people. You just helped me face a fear that I’ve held for years.”
Viktor shrugs his broad shoulders and I stare at the way the fabric strains over his prominent arm muscles.
“I’m trying to make my life easier. So that I don’t have to keep explaining to the neighbors why he’s out in the courtyard in the freezing cold.”
CHAPTER 8
VIKTOR
THE BALLET STUDIO door is ajar, the way the killers left it. It’s early in the morning and the place is deserted.
Markov is guarding the room while I inspect the scene. He texted me as soon as he found out what had happened during one of his nightly patrols.
I walk into the space and the mirrors on the wall show me everything. The blood is splattered over the glass and the barre.
Marianne Barbier, Lisette’s ballet teacher and mentor, lies on the wooden floor.
I only know it’s her because of my week of watching the ballet studio means I recognize her black loafers. The shoes are the only item of clothing the assailants left on her body.
The corpse on the ground is unrecognizably maimed.
Skin has been peeled back from the flesh in the centre of the body, the bones of the ribcage exposed, and the face is so extensively bruised from a beating that the eyes aren’t even visible. The woman must have been beaten within an inch of her life.
Not to mention the blood. The pool of thick crimson spread across the floor from a ragged gash in her neck that looks likeit was made by multiple separate cuts, all feathered together in the injury that ultimately killed her. She would have bled out quickly, at least.
She’s been like this for a few hours. Thankfully it’s winter or else the flies would be swarming already.
I pace over the wooden floorboards, alternating between taking in the details and analyzing what this means.
Markov appears beside me. “Torture, right?”
“Irish torture, specifically. They probably wanted information about Lisette.”
“But they’re also sending a signal.”
“That they know about her and they’re on the trail.”
“This is all getting very serious.”
“I know.” I wonder if Semyon knew how determined the Irish were to kidnap his fiancée when he gave me the assignment. If he did, he gave me no indication.
This is the work of someone focused on getting information at all costs, who also wants to send a message.
It means one thing. The danger surrounding Lisette is growing, to encompass the people around her as well.
I make a note to tell Semyon to increase security protections for her family. They’re at risk of an identically gruesome fate.
“Fuck.”
Lisette gives that one, short sharp cry before folding herself up into a ball and burying her face in her knees, her body shaking as she cries.
I don’t know what to do. I wonder if she’s ever had someone close to her die like this. An innocent young thing like her almost certainly hasn’t encountered a brutal murder.
I sit on the couch beside her, extend a hand in her direction, then bring it back. She wouldn’t want the comfort of the person holding her in captivity. But I can’t leave her like this.
Were it anyone else, the tears would be enough to drive me out the door. Crying was drilled out of me as a child.
I don’t know how to handle these kinds of displays of emotion.
