Page 102 of Wrapped in Perfection

I open the door to the apartment, step in and lock it, just in case. Boris is standing at the window and turns. "About time you got here."

"Where is he?"

"In the kitchen. Thought it was appropriate since that's where he first assaulted her."

The blood boils hotter in my veins, and the escalation of rage only grows.

Boris points to me. He's wearing identical black gloves to mine. "There is a line not to be crossed. Unless you've changed your mind?" He cocks his head and raises his eyebrows in hope.

I step toward him. "Do not ask me that again. No matter what, it is not to be broken."

He sighs, unhappy I won't let him go further, but nods. One thing my brothers and I despise more than anything else in this world is a man who hurts a woman or child. It's the sign of a coward, and none of us have respect or tolerance for those types of men. And there is a part of Boris that enjoys what we are about to do. While I don't deny it gives me gratification to serve some sort of justice upon those who have done the unspeakable, I'm not like Boris. And that's why I brought him instead of my other brothers. He has a craving for it, and it needs to be fed. It's why he still boxes. But this side of him, no amount of time in the ring can quench. So any situation we have, Boris is always a part of it.

"Let's get this over with. I'm ready to be home with Anna."

Boris's face changes. I've seen it too many times to count. It's almost a serenity that fills his expression. There's a calmness about him. Most men act like lunatics in these situations. Boris is cool as a cucumber. It's the total opposite of his demeanor in the ring.

I walk through the empty apartment and go into the kitchen. Mitch has a gag in his mouth. He's tied to the only remaining thing besides the skillet. Even his underwear and toiletries got packed and removed from the premises.

His eyes widen when I step into the room. He attempts to try and get out of the chair, and it rocks from side to side.

Boris steps forward and leans down to his ear. "Shhh," he coos then drags his finger down Mitch's cheek.

Mitch shuts his eyes and starts to cry.

I haven't even touched him yet, and he's bawling like a baby. Fucking coward.

I don't know why I'm surprised. It always happens. Cowards are all alike. But for some reason, I can't ever get used to it.

I step forward and bark, "Open your eyes."

He obeys while sobbing.

"Do you remember me? Hmm?"

His lip trembles, and he shakes his head.

Figures. Arrogant asshole thought he was better than everyone else.

"That's okay. I know who you are. And I know what you did to her."

He tries to scream, but it's muffled from the gag. I flip my knife open and shut a few times. Boris meets my eyes.

Better let him do it. He enjoys it more, and I have the skillet.

I nod, permitting him to take over for a moment.

Boris rips out his knife and puts the flat part of the blade on Mitch's cheek.

"You like to beat women?" I ask.

He tries to deny it, sobbing some more.

"She's told you not to call her anymore. But you still call. Why? Hmmm?" I step closer and crouch in front of him. His entire body shakes, and Boris turns the knife so the thin part of the blade is against his cheek. "When a woman tells you to stop calling her, you stop."

He tries to nod, and the blade nicks him. Blood wells on his cheek.

"You continue to threaten her. You claim you're coming to find her. You steal her money and personal possessions. Well, how does it feel to have everything you value taken away from you? Hmmm?"

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