“They’re doing well. It’s thanks to them I was able to find you in time.
My friends were ok. I had been afraid Maxim would kill them now that I was gone.
Maxim.
“That’s great. But we have to go. I know where that bastard’s estate is, we should go and get him before he packs up and flees, if he already hasn’t. I made some promises that I’d love to fulfill.”
Alex laughed and drew me closer.
“I know it’s a bit late, Kitten, but I have a wedding gift for you. The very best gift you’ve received in a while, I’m sure.”
Chapter 31 - Alessandro
We brought Maxim to a club, on Katya's insistence.
She didn't want it to be somewhere isolated and quiet, she wanted to slowly torture Maxim Triev to death at a club. With the music pumping, swallowing his screams if they got out.
Plus, she'd argued, a dead body would be easier to dispose of from a club. Less nosy people and more cover for sketchy shit.
It was one of my clubs, which had a lot of exclusive inner rooms, upstairs and underground.
The whole underground was off-limits tonight, just for Katya.
She'd hummed to herself on the drive here, had basically sang to herself as she poured out her tools and arranged them.
I had sat back in the room, determined to watch what she wanted to do.
I'd almost laughed when she'd set up the camera, something about preserving memories.
Then, she'd pulled out the sledgehammer.
Until then, Maxim had been saving face, taunting Katya and me. Going on about how we didn't know what his family was capable of.
Even he kept quiet when Katya lifted the sledgehammer.
Although that hadn't lasted too long before his mouth had opened again, to scream in agony.
Every day was a lesson, and watching Katya, I learned that the saying about a scorned woman was true.
Hell could not have had fury like Katya did. For the first few minutes, I'd been able to sit, but then it turned very dark very quickly, and there were some things I hadn't even thought possible.
Dom hadn't thought allowing her to torture Maxim would be good enough.
I wondered what he thought while I prepared myself a drink at the bar on the underground floors. Frankie came to join me later, quiet as I served him a drink from behind the bar.
He raised his glass in a toast. “The good Lord help me not to get on that woman's bad side.”
“The good Lord help us both.”
“Amen.” We said together.
We clinked our glasses and drank without a word, listening to the thumping music and cheering above mixed in with the horrific screams of a dying man.
“How long has it been?” Frankie asked.
I glanced at my watch. “Almost three hours now.”
“Fuck.”