The happiness in Stravinsky’s expression spreads across his face, but there are vengeance and fury in my own.
Josslyn whimpers, her eyes glazed over in tears as her eyes plead with me to take the pain away.
“Does this bother you, brother?”
“I’m going to kill you,” I seethe through my rapid breaths. “I will stick my blade so far in your larynx it will come out on the other side. That’s your future, brother.” My chest is heaving, adrenaline surging from one point in my body to the next. I want nothing more than to destroy this man. I want him to feel the pain my brother and his family felt when they were killed. I want the hurt to rocket him to his very core as I stab him over and over again.
Stravinsky pulls the knife from her body then pushes her down to the floor. She curls into a ball as blood drips from her wounds, trickling beneath her. She appears to be getting weak. It wouldn’t surprise me after the last couple of days she has had.
“You will destroy your brotherhood over a coward and his girlfriend?”
I lunge forward, but my frame is immediately rocked back and restrained, and I fight against their hold.
“Your brother was weak, and the only reason I even entertained adding him to my crew was because of you. You were the one I wanted. You were the kid I handpicked to be my successor, so how do you think I felt when you turned your back on me, on your organization, for your weak brother? If you want to talk about betrayal, Nikolai, that’s betrayal by its very definition.” His voice booms through the vast room.
I calm myself enough for the team of people swarming me to loosen their grip. Thinking about Stravinsky’s words, I realize he is right. I did betray him. I lied to all of them, telling him my brother was killed. I made that choice, so the vengeance placed on me was warranted. I deserved the attack when I was in prison. But to kill my family … That will never be okay in my eyes. Boris killed innocent children, my only kin, and he did it in a heinous fashion.
“Fine.” I lean forward and accept my fate. “Blood for blood—I get it. I betrayed you to save my family. I lied. If you want blood, then take it from me.” My acceptance to die is unexpected even for me, but the conscience growing inside of me cannot allow Josslyn or Cubby to lose their lives.
Stravinsky’s hard mask falls slightly. He is either proud of what I said or shocked.
“Noble, brother. However, I don’t want any more bloodshed amongst our organization. After seeing you and Cubby in action again tonight, I realize both of you are too talented to dispose of. It would be stupid on my part to kill my two best men because I was angry. I can see that now.”
I can see the plan falling together as he speaks. The smirk on his face tells all, and my gut twists because I know who won’t make it out alive.
“So this is what I want, Nikolai.” He kicks Josslyn, and she takes the blow. She has nothing left inside her. “It’s time to take out the trash. She dies. She can’t live because she’s seen too much.”
I clench my jaw more tightly as Cubby turns his head toward me, knowing I don’t what to comply with his demand. What else am I to do, though? I always said, if anyone was walking out alive, it was going to be me. I have been telling myself this since day one. And on day one, it would have been so much easier. However, now it’s next to impossible.
Josslyn awoke something inside of me that didn’t exist before I laid eyes on her. The day I found her, I knew she was someone special. I just didn’t allow myself to feel that until this very moment, the moment when she is going to die.
“Once this is over with, son, that’s it. The hit on your head, expunged. You will be welcomed back into your family and resume life as you once knew it.” Stravinsky connects his eyes with Cubby’s. “Both of you. All you need to do, Nikolai, is dispose of her.”
He takes his foot and places it on Josslyn’s hip, rolling her over to her back. She is covered in blood. Her flush, tanned skin is painted crimson. She has her hand pressing as hard as she can on the wound, attempting to slow the blood spilling from it.
I stand to my feet, and the men behind me start brushing against my back in warning. I pivot, pushing them away from me. My anger is boiling again, and they are the perfect people to take it out on. I am furious because of what will happen next. I know what I need to do to survive.
Unlike Josslyn, I can’t live a normal life. Hell, I don’t even know what a normal life is. This is all I know: the killing, planning, standing beside my mentor. It is what I’m good at. I can’t do anything else.
This is not how I wanted it to go down, but it may be the only way to save my skin.
I walk to the dining room table and look at all the weapons spread across it. Our guns, knives, and grenades wouldn’t give her a swift death. Then the needles cross my sights. Cyanide, of course. . It’s time to put it to use.
I pick up the syringe with the red stripe across the top and uncap the sharp edge. I pluck a white flower from the vase in the middle to signify her dying is not what was intended since she is innocent. It signifies that I will mourn her for the remainder of my life.
There is no one in the world like Josslyn Stowe, and I will miss her greatly when she is gone. But life must go on. There are many years left in this existence, and I intend to keep breathing.
I turn and walk back to the action around the fireplace. I hold up the needle, and Stravinsky gives me his approval for my weapon of choice.
Cubby is still kneeling on the floor, his eyes asking, Are you sure about this? My answer to him is the raise of a brow. He doesn’t flinch, knowing something is about to happen.
Kneeling down next to Josslyn, I look over her broken, wounded body. She has been through so much in her life, but nothing more horrendous than when she met me. Her life has been in danger every second she has been by my side, and now it’s time for it to be over. Her suffering needs to end now. Our journey is finished. Our time together is over. This is our conclusion.
I straddle her hips and lean forward.
She trembles as she connects her eyes with mine. They are full of trust. The peace inside her irises tells me she understands.
I lean down, savoring her lips one more time. They are warm pillows that changed my entire world the moment I kissed her. I didn’t fully understand the impact kissing her had on me before. In our final moments together, I know I will never feel that again.
I pull my lips from hers, sit up, and whisper my apologies. I look up at Stravinsky who waits with anticipation. Then I swallow down the pain, jerk my arm back, and ram the needle into her chest.
Game over.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Josslyn
August 25, 2015 11:48 p.m.
My body burns, but the pain melts away when the soft flesh of his lips connects with mine. I can’t control the heat. It’s a rush over every inch of me. I don’t want it to stop.
My pelvis meets his, joining us, linking us together. His weight protects me from all the terror that surrounding us. I feel safe in a situation that would otherwise not be.
The touch of his heated palms wrapping around my wrists doesn’t send me into a panic; it sends me over the edge. And I’m ready to fall. I’m ready to submit to anything he demands.
The frigid air surrounding us mixes perfectly with the warmth swarming my veins. I welcome the overwhelming feelings. I don’t know why; I just do. He is the comfort in all the chaos I agreed to, and not a single thought would have changed my mind.
I open my eyes when his lips leave mine. The ache of their departure replaces the heat generating in my core. Nikolai sits up on his knees as he continues to straddle my hips. Everything around us halts. All the commotion, noise, and sounds—everything just stops.
My arms are free from his grasp, but I’m incapable of moving them. My entire body is frozen to the floor. I’m entranced by the cool, blue gaze above me and the hidden pain that lives behind them. I want nothing more than to sit up and simply hold him.
The pain from his past has be
en yanked from its dark, concealed depths, only to resurface in front of me. This, I recognize. I understand it because events as tragic as ours will never cease to exist. They will only be subdued in the blackest parts of our souls before a single fateful moment brings them all rushing to the surface. I can see all of that now in his eyes.
Suddenly, a rush of immense pain pulls me from my thoughts and finally breaks my connection with his eyes. It’s then I notice the syringe protruding from my chest.
Tears flood and drip from my eyes. I can feel the warm drops pass over my ears before disappearing into my hairline. The air in my lungs becomes labored as I struggle for every single breath. I can’t say a single word. I can’t scream out in terror or pain. I can only gasp my final breaths as I look into the pain flooding his eyes.
He leans down, putting his lips next to my earlobe. The warm air from his mouth sends a chill down my spine as he whispers, “I didn’t want to do it, Josslyn. You have to believe that, but this is how it has to be.”
My mind is frantic. I want to know why this is happening. After all we have been through, why leave it like this?
Nikolai raises his head and focuses solely on me.
Chaos resumes, but we only see each other. His eyes look as crisp as a blue mountain lake. I marvel at beauty of them as he watches the light slowly die out of mine.
“This is the only way. This is how I survive this, Josslyn.” He lowers his mouth and faintly brushes my lips again. The warmth of them captures me once more as he whispers, “I’m sorry.”
As Nikolai stands, everything starts to fade away. All the pain residing in my chest and the thoughts of fear are released from my consciousness. Soon, it will all be gone.
I no longer have the strength to keep my head up and watch where he goes. I let my head roll to the side, my view barely visible between the cracks in my eyelids. Then I connect my sight with the pool of blood underneath me. All I can do is lie here and feel my short gasps of air.
Just before it all fades to black, a white rose is loosely placed in my hand, resting in the crimson pool surrounding me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Nikolai
August 25, 2015 11:51 p.m.
Josslyn’s body goes limp underneath me, and all the rage built over the past five years finally comes to a head. I jerk the needle from her chest and throw it in the fire. If my mentor had been paying closer attention, he would have seen I managed to switch the needles when I leaned forward to kiss her, slipping the cyanide needle between our bodies and pulling the etorphine syringe out of the front of my pants simultaneously.
Stravinsky said a lot of things, but the horrible murders of my family members will never be forgiven. I will see this mission through. I owe it to all the good people on this earth. To my brother Roman, Mary, my daughter, and their son. I owe it to Josslyn who has suffered at the hands of people like Stravinsky, Vlad, and me.
She was a kid of fourteen when her life was forever altered, and every day since, she has suffered through the loss of her family. We all played a part in that, and now we all have to pay the consequence, starting with my mentor. What I have in store for him will last all night, and it will be bloody.
Still straddling Josslyn’s hips, I pull the cyanide filled syringe from my hiding place then stand.
Stravinsky has a proud father look on his face. His ego is too great to realize what is about to happen.
I walk over to his waiting frame, his arms ready to embrace me as I stand before him.
“I have never been more proud of a soldier than I am of you, Nikolai. No one on this earth can do the things you have better than you.” He pulls me close, wrapping his arms around me.
Carefully placing the needle in my palm, my eyes meet Cubby’s and give him a wink. He squints slightly, but then his eyes brighten in realization that the shit is about to hit the fan.
With a swift move, I jerk my arm up and plunge the needle into his neck. The soldiers behind Cubby move to react, but I quickly spin around, placing my front to Stravinsky’s back, my fingers clasping the needle, poised for injection.
“Call off your men,” I demand in Stravinsky’s ear, and he motions with his hand for them to lower their weapons to the floor. Like the loyal dogs they are, they obey.
Cubby jumps to his feet, snatching a pistol from the guard and pointing it at Vlad who is still sitting in the chair, completely baffled as to what is going on. He has always been deadly, but never smart.
“You traitorous bastard!” Stravinsky screams. “I gave you everything.”
“I know, and now you will give me your life, too.” I look out at the men who have dropped their weapons. “You”—I point at the smaller man in front—“kick the guns behind you, toward the door.”
The man slowly moves, kicking the pistols and other assorted weapons like he was told. The other ten soldiers stand by with their hands raised in surrender as their fellow thief takes their weapons. All the while, I keep my fingers on the plunger of the syringe.
“Good. Now come here.” The man walks over and stands beside me. He thinks he is sly, perhaps that he can pull a fast one on me, but I see the bulge in his pants, and I highly doubt it’s his dick.
I move my hand viper fast, reaching in the front of his pants and pulling the weapon out in mere seconds. Then I switch the safety off and smile at him. “Today is not your day to be a hero.” I squeeze the trigger, and the man’s head explodes. Blood and brain matter splatter across the floor followed by the man.
Vlad stands to assist, but Cubby fires a shot into his shoulder, making him collapse back down in his chair.
“I think it’s time to call the men to the table for dinner,” Cubby says, which is code for “I want to take all these fuckers out.”
“Agreed. And from the looks of it, we will have to order supper for ten,” I reply, and Cubby nods.
I lift my arm and rest it on Stravinsky’s shoulder, the gun pointing at the standing men.
Cubby’s gun fires, and seconds later, so does mine. We shoot, taking each man out seamlessly within seconds. If they tried to move, they couldn’t; they simply weren’t fast enough to outrun our marathon of bullets..
I dig the gun into Stravinsky’s side and demand, “Move.”
He starts walking, and I nod at Cubby who brings Vlad with him.
I sit Stravinsky at the table on the opposite side as the weapons and hold him at gunpoint. The needle is still dangling from his neck, but I have released my hand from it. It’s served its purpose. I won’t let him go out that easy. I need to take my time with him.
Cubby finishes cuffing Vlad to the chair then comes to us and fastens Stravinsky, as well. I pull the needle from his flesh and squeeze the solution onto the floor. A large bowl of cherries is near me. The lush, succulent fruit beckons as I move to the dish and snatch one up.
I put the fruit in my mouth and savor the sweetness. It’s perfect. Stravinsky can only watch I was take my time chewing and indulging. One after another, I bite the fruit from the stem, chew, and spit the seed out at his feet. I’m merely toying with him, making him mentally break down as he awaits his fate.
My vengeful beast is fully awake, pacing back and forth, waiting to be released. I stalk my way around the table, looking at the variety of weapons. Sure, I can shoot him a bunch of times and watch him bleed out, but that isn’t very gratifying to me. The grenade makes me think, but it’s too messy, and he wouldn’t get the opportunity to feel the pain. For a moment, I debate on getting the briefcase from my car in the woods, knowing the tools inside would make this job even more satisfying, but I have waited too long.
After I pass around the end of the table, I see my old, trusted friend. She has been there for me through thick and thin, and I find it rather ironic that the man who gave me my Bowie should also die by it.
I pull the knife off the table and hold the cold steel in my hand. The weight is perfect, and my fingers mold around the handle.
I can feel all the hate,
pain, and loss from years upon years under this man. He needs to feel a semblance of what I feel. Stravinsky needs to know what pain is all about. Then he can die.
I stalk my way over to my prey who is sitting in a fine suit, tattoos covering his fingers and sweat dripping from his brow.
Wanting to see the blood as it oozes from his body, I slide the razor sharp blade under his fine threads and use the serrated side to start sawing off the material. Once it’s cut enough, I put my knife down and use my hands to yank the fabric from his body. It takes some time, but I manage to get him shirtless.
The tattoos on his chest mirror mine almost to a T. The eight-pointed stars over his shoulders and the crucifix in the center of his chest are just the starters. He also has a large rose entwined with the cross between his pectorals, meaning he turned eighteen in prison. However, his are older and faded.
I step closer to him, his knees touching mine as I hover over him. His black eyes are laced with evil, and I’m sure he’s thinking he can have the final say in what happens, but that will never be a privilege he gets again.
“Nikolai, you’re a cold-hearted bastard to do this to me after everything I’ve done for you,” he sputters out between breaths, trying to remain hard until the end. But I can see him crumble bit by bit as I murder him with my eyes.
I pull another cherry from the bowl and pop it into my mouth. Then I lift the crystal glass to my lips and swallow the champagne. The flavors complement each other, and I find it fitting for the monumental occasion that’s about to take place.
“This is the end of the line, my friend. Your reign as godfather is over.” I lean in close and put the knife on his shoulder. Just as he did with Josslyn, I slowly ram the tip of the blade through his soft flesh.
He clenches his jaw and groans out in pain between his teeth, but that’s not enough, so I lean into the handle, using my weight to plunge the knife deeper.
“Ugh!” Stravinsky bellows out.
Madness (Revenge Series Book 3) Page 16