Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 122242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 611(@200wpm)___ 489(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 611(@200wpm)___ 489(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
"Now tell me," he says, propping an arm on the back of the couch and turning his body to face me.
"Ivan is a bully. He's violent and cruel, with a nasty temper. He's abusive to his girlfriends and sleeps around all the time. The women aren't always willing. He's dangerous, like a rabid dog." I shiver, remembering the way he always looked at me like he was defiling me in his mind. "When Nikolai needs to make an example of someone, he sends Ivan."
"What about Semenova?" Octavio asks, reaching out to brush my hair away from my face before dropping his hand back to his lap. "What do you know about him?"
"Maksim moved up the ranks fast. He's smart, but he uses it the wrong way. He's in charge of keeping Nikolai's dealers in line. He knows who all of them are, where they deal, and how much they bring in. He also knows a lot about drugs and the drug trade in general. He usually knows what's going on with the other cartels before anyone else does. He's kind of quiet, but he's capable of great cruelty too."
"And Milonov?"
"Victor oversees Nikolai's trade routes outside of Los Angeles. Nikolai says Victor knows how to move people and product better than anyone. I think he's more violent than Ivan, but he doesn't have a temper. Even when he's hurting people, he's calm about it." I wrap my arms around myself as memories of his punishments inevitably float to the surface of my mind. I've seen him torture people without flinching. "He scares me," I whisper, my voice shaking.
Octavio scowls and leans a little closer like he's trying to protect me from my memories. "Did he ever hurt you, conejita?"
"He never touched me."
"That doesn't mean he didn't hurt you."
I swallow hard, glancing away from him.
He sighs softly but doesn't push me to talk to him. "Who else does Tarasova trust?"
"Mikhail Marozava. He trusted Lev Abashev too, but Lev's dead."
"Tell me about Mikhail."
"Mikhail is one of Ivan's friends. He's a bully too. He enjoys hurting and humiliating people. I think Nikolai accepts him in his inner circle because Mikhail follows Ivan around like a little puppy."
"Tarasova trusts Ivan more than anyone else?"
I shrug a shoulder, glancing back over at him. "Nikolai doesn't trust anyone very far. He's paranoid and very careful, but he has so much dirt on Ivan. I wouldn't say it makes him complacent, but maybe it gives him a little confidence that Ivan can't betray him without hurting himself?"
Octavio nods in understanding, his gaze shrewd. "Tell me about Tarasova."
"Nikolai is…" I hesitate, not sure how to describe Nikolai. "He's a chameleon. He can be anyone he needs to be to get what he wants. He's conniving and intelligent. Most of his men are afraid of him because he's ruthless. If you cross him, he won't hesitate to kill you or the people you care about to make an example of you. He never gives anyone anything without expecting something in return. He's also patient and isn't afraid to play the long con. He's been doing it most of his life."
Octavio brushes his hand down my arm again like he's trying to comfort me.
"He can be cruel and heartless, but he also knows that fear alone isn't enough to keep him in power. He makes sure his men are taken care of. He pays his people well and makes sure they have all the women, alcohol, and territory they want. It keeps them loyal. When their loyalty is in question, he doesn't hesitate to eliminate them."
"Was he nice to you, angel?"
"Nikolai isn't nice to anyone," I whisper, "not really. It's all a game. He likes being in charge. Everything he does is to ensure he stays that way. That's all that matters to him. That and his daughter." Like me, she's locked up. Only Nikolai's men would never raise a hand against her. She wants for nothing but freedom. I don't envy her. I know what living in one of his cages is like.
There's no warmth or affection, no humanity. I was just someone for him to control and use, not even worth basic human decency. I hate him for every moment of the last five years of my life. I hate him for every moment of pain, for every cruelty. I hate him for every night I spent wishing I was dead because that would have been preferable.
"Faith, conejita," Octavio murmurs, sliding closer to me on the couch. One hand goes around the back of my neck, tilting my face up. He uses the other to wipe away tears I didn't even realize I'd shed. "You're crying."
"I'm sorry," I whisper, taking a deep breath to steady myself. I push away the sadness, forcing it down until the pain is manageable and the dark memories recede.