Page 58 of Paved in Venom

No one touches that sweet, perfect pussy but me.

Matvey and Roman are already out and waiting with Timofey beside them. As soon as I’m near Matvey, I give him a big smile, and he actually returns it. It’s not as big as mine, but it’s the biggest damn smile I’ve seen him give since before Alina went missing. I want to kill this fucking doctor, but I’m not about to deny Matvey the pleasure of joining in.

“Ready to have some fun?” I ask him.

His dark eyes lock on the man that Lev’s hauling from the back. “Fuck yeah I am.”

The doctor’s eyes dart between us, and I’m guessing it’s not going to be long at all before he loses control of his bladder. Lev and Vitaly each grab an arm, leading him into the deserted warehouse. We take him to the room we set up months ago. The windows are boarded up, several lanterns are placed around the room since there’s no electricity, and there’s even a chair with restraints. It’s fitting that he’ll be in the same kind of vulnerable position that he put Simona in.

“Ask him what his name is,” I tell Timofey.

He steps closer and starts speaking to the man in Romanian. I rip the tape from his mouth seconds before a shaky string of frantic Romanian rushes out of him. After he’s said everything he wants to say, I wait for Timofey to translate.

“He says his name is Stefan, and he’s a doctor. He claims to have no idea what’s going on, and he’s trying to convince me he’s completely innocent and begging me to help free him.”

“We know who you are,” I tell him, “and you’re going to fucking die tonight. It’s your choice how quickly that happens.” I pause so Timofey can translate before continuing. “We want to know the name of the Bratva that’s in charge of all this. Give us what we want, and your death will be quicker.”

It’s a lie. We’ll be killing him slowly no matter what the fuck he says, but men will often tell you every damn detail you want in the hopes of sparing themselves hours of torture. Everyone likes to think they're tough, but most will cave in the end, some a lot quicker than others, and, no surprise to anyone, Stefan is one of those men.

He immediately starts blubbering god knows what in Romanian, desperately pleading with Timofey and spilling all his dirty secrets. God, I haven’t even shown him the pruning shears yet.

“Well, that was fast,” Timofey says, switching back to Russian. “He said he doesn’t know the name of the Bratva. Women are brought here, and a Romanian man named Emil is always with them. Stefan here is in charge of examining them. He says he looks after them and makes sure they’re okay, says he takes care of them as best he can.”

I bark out a harsh laugh. “Simona told me what he does. Emil holds them down while this sick, old fuck fingers them and then jerks off on them. It’s part of his fucking payment.”

“He does this to all the women who come through?” Matvey asks.

“It sounded like it, yeah,” I tell him.

He pulls out his phone and finds a photo of Alina. Holding it out to Stefan, he asks, “Do you recognize her?”

When he hesitates, I pull out the pruning shears, laughing when his bladder finally lets go and the front of his pants turn dark.

“The woman you saw me with tonight,” I tell him, “I know what you did to her, you sick fuck.”

Walking closer, I stand on his left side. He’d been holding his drink in his right hand tonight, and I’m guessing that’s his dominant one, probably the one he would use to jerk off with, which means his left hand, these fucking fingers right in front of me, were the ones he used to slide into Simona.

“I’m taking every goddamn finger you touched her with,” I tell him while Timofey translates. “While I do that, I want you to think long and hard about whether or not you’ve seen the woman in that photo.”

I grab his index finger while he struggles uselessly against his restraints. He starts screaming before I’ve even put it between the shears’ sharp blades. These are brand new and sharp as fuck. I know this because Roman’s always telling Emily to be careful when she uses them, worried she’s going to cut herself. I’m guessing he’ll be buying her a new pair after tonight.

I give another soft laugh and turn to my brothers. “This is going to hurt like a motherfucker,” I say, before tightening my grip and slicing through his flesh. His screams fill the room when I hit bone, but I keep going, slicing clean through until his finger falls to the floor, his blood already forming a puddle. Lev sees it and goes to grab the blowtorch. We’ll have to cauterize his hand if we want him to last the night. Can’t have him dying on us just yet.

“Was that the finger you used?” I ask him. I put the shears around his middle finger. “Or was it this one?”

He’s mumbling in Romanian, spit and snot dripping down his chin, but I don’t wait for Timofey to translate. I take his next finger, and then I take the rest, slowly making my way around his hand until only the thumb is left. When I start cutting through that one, he passes out, so I wait.

“Not so fast,” Vitaly says, smacking his cheeks to revive him. When that doesn’t work, he pours a bottle of water on his face, and as soon as Stefan opens his eyes, I finish cutting off his thumb.

Stepping back, I give Lev room, and as soon as the blowtorch comes on, Stefan uses the last of his strength to scream bloody murder as the flames burn his open wounds, sealing them enough to stop the bleeding. The stench of burnt flesh fills the room, and I see Matvey wince at the smell before holding Alina’s picture up again. It’s hard to look at her smiling face. She was so fucking happy and so wonderfully unaware of how cruel and perverse people can be, and then sick fucks like Stefan came along and destroyed everything without even a speck of remorse.

“Do you recognize her?” he asks again.

When he says something in Romanian, Timofey says, “I see so many girls. They all look the same to me.”

Without a word, he holds out his hand to me, and I pass him the shears. For the first time since all this started, Matvey has someone to take his aggression out on, and I fucking love that for him. He takes his time, taking the fingers in pieces. We have to revive Stefan twice before Lev steps in with the blowtorch. When Roman starts taking off Stefan’s fancy dress shoes and socks and his bare toes are on full display, he finally starts telling us what we want to hear.

After several minutes of him gasping and sputtering in Romanian, Timofey says, “She looks familiar, but I can’t be for sure. If it’s the same girl I’m thinking of, then it was over a year ago.”

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