Rattling of chain links rent the air before his ribs absorbed the blow when he refused to relinquish information. Mikhail sagged against another set of chains binding his wrists as the linked metal cracked for the second time against his shattered ribs.
Blackness seeped into the edges of his vision and threatened to overcome him, but he couldn't give in. Not when she needed him.
“Mikhail!” His wife screamed for him and his heart tore from his bloodied, bruised body. Nothing they did to him could hurt more than hearing the cold fear in her precious voice.
“Let her go. She has nothing to do with this.”
The sickening thud of fists pounding flesh cut into his plea. Soft whimpers followed by silence cut him deeper than any blade.
God, let her be dead. Please let her be rid of this cold, despicable place.
He yanked at the chains and screamed a savage curse.
“Mikhail, no,” whispered his wife. “Don’t fight. Please, don’t fight.”
Why did God not take her already!
“Don’t fight them.”
“Don’t cry, love. Be brave.” From down here no one would hear her cries for help. They might as well be on another planet with how the dank walls of the basement concealed her cries.
Flesh met flesh again and the tangy smell of fresh blood hit his senses as she cried out.
His words were broken and slurred through split lips, but he pushed through the pain for her. But she didn’t hear his winded plea. How could she when her cries overpowered the entire space?
“I love it when they scream for me. I’ll have fun breaking her in. My dick wants taste of her pretty pink pussy and she’ll look so nice wearing my collar and leash. Like a good bitch. Da.”
That voice, roughened by smoke and weighed down with a deep Russian accent. He would recognize it anywhere. A man he considered a friend.
“You call me twisted. Sadistic. Da. Maybe. Remember, I’ve seen your wicked side. Seen the way you bind and torture in name of pleasure. We are much alike you and I. Da moy droog. My friend. Very much.”
“That was an accident. She wasn’t meant to die.” Unrelenting guilt weighed on his chest for the girl who died at his hand. That night weighed heavier than the chains binding him now. “Wasn’t meant to die,” he repeated as salty tears burned his battered eyes. “We are nothing alike. Nothing!” he bellowed through the sharp, serrated pain tearing through his chest. “You could have saved her.” He fought for air. “But instead you laughed and only watched as she died. You could have saved her from me, you bastard!”
“Mikhail, what is he talking about?”
Such sweet innocence. He’d been weak taking a wife. A monster. He’d been arrogant in thinking he could keep her safe from the dark world he walked in. Defeat set into his shoulders and he gave over to fatigue.
“Ahh, lover’s quarrel. Should you answer, or should I?”
“Shut the fuck up,” Mikhail hissed.
“Maybe story I’ll share after I burn your bones. Tvoya smert' budet sladkoy.”
Mikhail yanked on the chains to the sadistic laugh of the other man. “My death might be sweet, but you’ll still burn in hell alongside me.”
“It doesn’t matter. Now you plead for your life and it’s my face you see staring back. Almost poetic.” With his eyes now fully swelled shut he could only gauge the man’s position by his voice. He drew closer as he spoke but chains held his feet to the cold cement flooring.
“Let’s get you and your pretty wife on the table, moy droog. Let’s see if I can find some truth under that skin.” Cold steel raked across his abdomen.
Death loomed close, but not close enough. He knew the man about to take his life, but who pulled his chains? Who was the real puppet master here?
The shadows swallowed the truth and those within lie in wait, poised to strike with their venomous bite.
“I’ll look for you in hell, moy droog,” Mikhail spat, seething with fury and regret.
Every betrayal began with trust. A lesson that would cost him his blackened soul.
Lightning tore through the sky and thunder boomed, the rumble reaching into his soul.
Nights like these were for making deals with the devil.