Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 83818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
“Everybody get the hell out of here, Renata stays,” Ollie barks.
Mikhail opens his mouth, but Ollie cuts him off. “She can tell when people lie. It will make things go much quicker.” Mikhail’s face darkens as he considers Ollie’s demand but finally agrees, then steps out of the room.
"Ollie,” Ekaterina says quietly, her pretty face pinched as she leaves the room, “Please mind the carpet. It’s new, dear.”
“Jesus,” Ollie mutters. “This is why the other rooms are concrete.”
Within moments, it’s just the three of us—Ollie, the traitor, and me.
Ollie sent one of his brothers to go get what he needs, and he’ll will be back in a moment.
He grabs the man and shoves him face-first against the wall, his hand on his neck. The man's face grows purple, and he smacks with his hands fruitlessly. Ollie is impassive, his face a blank, emotionless mask.
I try to summon a level of anger. This asshole used my best friend to get to Ollie. He was going to kill the man who I love. But even now, while I logically know this to be true, I'm sick to my stomach, knowing what I'm about to witness.
Ollie is my husband. Time and time again, he has brutally hurt people, and I've even seen it. He's murdered. His hands have been stained with blood. Even in Colombia, there were whispers of the lone wolf, the silent one, a man of Russian descent who lived in New York and had come to enact brutal, bloody revenge. He was feared by the biggest, most powerful man I knew in the LSD.
Everybody feared him.
I fear him.
“Stay here,” he says as he drags the man to a corner of the room. “You won’t leave my side, Renata, but I don’t want you to have to witness everything.”
I close my eyes and remind myself how quietly and gently he touches me. His hands as soft and tender as could be. What if I were the one who did something to betray him? It wasn't that long ago when he thought I had.
I close my eyes and cover my ears but can’t completely block out the sound of the man’s cries and Ollie’s harsh voice, the blows he delivers. I open my eyes when he drags him back in front of me. Ollie moves with cold precision, drawing the shades. His broad shoulders loom, blocking out the only sliver of light. With ruthless efficiency, he ties the man to a chair, the ropes cutting so deep into his flesh, fresh blood stains them.
His face is bruised and swollen, bleeding from multiple contusions that make it hard to recognize him.
Do I recognize him?
Ollie circles him, calm and methodical.
“Do you know him, Renata?” When his eyes meet mine, I have a terrifying shock of recognition.
“Yes,” I whisper. “He went to school with Carlos, but I can’t remember his name.”
“It doesn’t matter what his name is,” Ollie says, his eyes narrowing. He remains calm as he traces his thumb along the edge of a huge blade. I try to breathe, reminding myself that this is necessary, that there is no peaceful way forward. But the bile still rises in my throat, a stark reminder of the scene that’s about to unfurl before me.
Ollie steps in front of the man and tips his head to the side, inspecting him as if he’s a specimen in a biology lab. I’ve seen that cold gaze in his eyes many times before, the one that chills me to the bone. This is the Ollie they whisper about, the one who enacts revenge without mercy or hesitation.
“Who sent you here?” His voice is low, but the threat unmistakable. The man groans, barely able to lift his head, but Ollie grabs him and forces him to look up.
“Was it Carlos? Tell me.”
“I—I don’t know anything!” the man sobs.
“Fucking hell, let me be the type who stands up to a fucking interrogation and doesn’t shit his pants,” Ollie murmurs with disdain. “You’re a big, tough guy when you’re swaggering down the streets of Colombia, aren’t you? But here, when it’s just me versus you, you’re a child.” He shrugs. “My brothers aren’t even here.”
The man’s eyes are wild and desperate. “He knows you betrayed us,” he says to me with a sneer. Ollie backhands him so hard that the man’s head snaps back, and I feel the crack of his hands in my bones. I flinch.
“Who?”
The man clenches his jaw and doesn’t respond, turning away. Ollie’s expression doesn’t change. With ruthless precision, Ollie’s blade flashes in the dim light, cutting through flesh with a swift, practiced strike. No room for mercy. The scream that follows tears through the air.
“The carpet, Ollie,” I whisper.
Ollie violently kicks the man’s chair to the side as the tiled pathway that leads to the doorway narrowly catches the falling blood.