Page 95 of Fury
"No!" I roar, firing as I charge after him.
My bullet catches him in the shoulder, spinning him around. He staggers but keeps moving, desperation giving him speed as he crashes through the back door.
I follow, relentless, ignoring the shouts of my brothers behind me. This ends now. One way or another.
Volkov stumbles across the parking lot, leaving a trail of blood on the cracked asphalt. I could shoot him in the back, end it cleanly from a distance. But that's not what I want. Not what he deserves.
I tackle him from behind, driving him face-first into the ground. His gun skitters away as we roll, trading blows. He's stronger than he looks, fighting with the ferocity of a cornered animal.
"You should have stayed away from her," I growl, landing a punch that snaps his head back. "Should have never touched what's mine."
He laughs through bloody teeth, eyes wild with defiance. "Your woman will never be safe. My people will?—"
My fist connects with his jaw, silencing his threats. I zip-tie his hands behind his back and haul him to his feet.
Wilder approaches, gun trained on Volkov's head.
"Do it," Volkov spits. "End it now."
"No," I say, voice eerily calm. "Death would be too merciful for what you've done."
Wilder studies my face, understanding dawning in his eyes. "The basement?"
I nod once. "He deserves to experience everything he made Livie fear."
"What are you talking about?" Volkov demands, panic seeping into his voice for the first time.
I lean close, my lips nearly touching his ear. "You're about to find out what true terror feels like."
Trenton pulls up with the club van, its rear doors already open. We force Volkov inside, securing him to the metal floor rings with additional restraints. His shoulder wound bleeds steadily, but not enough to kill him. Not yet.
"Diane?" I ask as Wilder climbs in beside me.
His expression tells me everything. "Didn't make it. Bullet hit her heart."
I feel nothing—no satisfaction, no remorse. Diane made her choices. In the end, they cost her everything.
"The others?"
"All neutralized," Wilder confirms. "Mason and Zach are handling cleanup. No witnesses, no evidence."
The drive back to the compound passes in tense silence, with Volkov's labored breathing the only sound. When we arrive, Torch meets us at the rear entrance, the one few outsiders know exists.
"Everything ready?" I ask.
He nods grimly. "Just like you asked. Soundproofed. No cameras. No record."
"Good." I drag Volkov from the van, ignoring his renewed struggles. "Livie?"
"Still in your room. Xavier gave her another sedative after you left. She was… upset."
Guilt flickers briefly, but I push it aside. Soon this will all be over, and we can begin to heal.
We descend the narrow stairs to the basement—a space used for fun that requires absolute privacy. The concrete walls and floor have seen their fair share of blood over the years. Today they'll see more.
The room is prepared exactly as I instructed with tools laid out on a metal table, chains hanging from ceiling hooks, and a single chair bolted to the floor in the center. Just like Livie described from her nightmares.
"What is this?" Volkov's voice rises in pitch as we force him into the chair. "You can't do this. My organization?—"
