Page 123 of Legacy
Here, peace dies the moment the door shuts behind you.
Maksim has been… unhinged since Vasilisa was attacked. I can’t blame him. His rage has a pulse down here. He’s been hunting the Armenians who dared intercept our shipments; who dared to lay hands on her.
I descend the stairs slowly. The scent hits me first, blood, piss, and something metallic that doesn’t fade no matter how long it’s been. Then come the sounds—groans of pain, the wet slap of flesh against bone.
I turn the corner and step into the room.
He has purple hair today.
“Started without me?” I ask.
Maksim doesn’t glance up. His knuckles are already stained. There’s a man in the chair—barely recognizable. Face bloated, bloodied, a shoulder at the wrong angle.
“Didn’t think you’d mind,” Maksim mutters, his voice all gravel and venom.
I don’t. Not really.
But I should be helping.
Instead, my phone feels like lead in my pocket.
I check it instinctively.
Nothing.Just me, double-texting Adriana like some desperate asshole. I text again.
‘You could’ve just told me to fuck off instead of walking away.’
‘At least I’d know where we stand.’
Still no response.
Maksim slams the heel of his boot into the prisoner’s thigh. The scream is hoarse and broken.
My thumbs hover over the screen.
‘Adriana. Just say something.’
Still nothing.
I exhale, long and slow.
“I thought we were doing this together,” Maksim says, finally glancing at me, his gaze sharp beneath the edge of his frustration. “You gonna help me get answers or just keep sexting your woman?”
“She’s not sexting back,” I mutter under my breath, then straighten.
I don’t say anything else. Just sigh, toss my phone onto the metal table nearby, and reach for the hem of my shirt.
The cotton sticks to my skin as I peel it off, the cold air biting across my chest. My fingers close around the metal bat Maksim left propped against the wall.
It’s already got streaks on it.
“Let’s get this done,” I mutter.
Maksim cracks his knuckles. “About time.”
We don’t talk much after that.
The man in the chair barely has anything left to give. A few more questions, a few more cracks of the bat, and he folds. Doesn’t even beg, just bleeds.
