My mouth falls open. Did he just say Niall wasn’t my father?
Find yer father, Kyle. He’s not a ghost.
Mum’s words from the nightmare slam back to me. Could it be a warning about the truth?
“Who is he?” I ask Rolan. “Who’s my father?”
He releases a long laugh that echoes in the space around us. “Ah. Isn’t this grand? Ye lived with the Russians for years and still didn’t recognize yer father? A bastard is a bastard, after all.”
“Who the fuck is he?”
“Don’t ye worry, my lad. I already called him and gave him evidence that ye’re his boy, so if he does want ye, he’ll show up. Though, I doubt anyone wants a filthy bastard whose only use is killing from the shadows.”
“Was he the one from that night? The one who came when my mother tried to escape?”
“Probably. Yer mother was smart, but not fast enough. My idiot brother promised to protect her and ye, but she knew I’d kill ye both the first chance I got, so she decided to leave. But that didn’t turn out grand for her, did it?”
“I’m going to kill you,” I mutter through clenched teeth. “I don’t care how or when, but it’s going to happen.”
“Grand threats from a wee boy.” He taps my cheek with his gun. “Ye’re nothing, Kyle. Ye always were nothing since ye were born. I told the Russians they’d get ye once they give up territories, but here’s a secret.” He leans in to whisper. “I’ll kill ya anyway. This time, I’ll make sure ye join yer mother’s side.” He steps back and motions at his guards. “Take good care of him and make him scream.”
“Aye, boss!”
Two guards follow him, leaving me with Flame and two others.
“Guess I should start.” Flame appears bored as he heads to the table and retrieves the nail clippers, muttering under his breath. “What a pain in the arse.”
I’m actually impressed with his Irish accent; it almost sounds authentic.
He stands in front of me, his eyes gleaming with pure sadism. “Shall we, lad?”
The fucker is so engrossed in his role.
“I don’t usually waste time.” He taps the nail clippers on his hand. “I know people start with the least painful torture then go up, but I prefer hardcore stuff from the get-go. It’s more fun, innit, lads?”
The other two nod like idiots.
I glare up at him, and he hits me in the face with the device. “What are ye looking at, ye little fuck?”
I groan as pain explodes in my temple and hot liquid cascades down my face.
The fucker.
“Blood—yum.” He grins, and he’s definitely not faking it. The sick fuck does enjoy the sight of blood more than anything. “Let’s start with those pretty nails, eh?” He steps behind me and takes my hand in his. I tense, holding my breath. If he hurts my sniper arm, I’m going to bloody murder him.
“Oh wait.” He motions at one of the guards. “Pass me a knife, would ya? I want to cut his skin at the same time.”
The younger of the two, obviously eager to please, goes to the table, snatches a knife, and comes to our side. His entire attention is on me as he hands the sharp object to Flame.
That’s his mistake.
Flame jams the knife in the man’s jugular and slices. A bloody fountain splashes on my face and clothes. I close my eyes so it doesn’t get inside.
The bastard always goes for the most gruesome methods.
The other guard realizes the situation and yanks out his gun, but he’s by no means faster than Flame. My mentor gets his gun out first and shoots him in the forehead, killing him on the spot.
“Ah, pain in the arse.” Flame snatches the knife from the man’s throat. The victim grabs his neck, choking on his own blood, but to no avail. A few seconds later, he’s on the ground, drowning in a pool of crimson.
Flame uses the knife to cut the ropes. I spring to my feet and yank a gun from the bloodied man’s hand.
“Now, I got blood all over me.” He switches to his bored—and normal—English accent as he wipes his face with the back of his hand.
“Then maybe you shouldn’t have slit his fucking throat.”
“It’s more fun that way.”
Crazy fuck.
“Now what?” I head to the entrance. “Is there a clear exit?”
I need to get out of here before the Russians actually decide to save me. That would mean Rai would get involved, and there’s no way in hell I’ll let her near the bastard Rolan.
“Not really.” Flame clicks his gun. “We’ll have to get out the old-fashioned way.”
“Which is?”
He hits me upside the head. “Kill our way out, punk. Did playing house with the Russians make you lose your skills?”
“Piss off.” I narrow my eyes on him. “You were going to clip my nails.”