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Viktor sneered in triumph. “Fucking goluboi.”
“Come closer and say that,” I growled up at him.
“Enough,” Dimitri snapped, checking something on his phone before tucking it away again. “Let’s go.”
The two men behind me tucked their hands under my arms and hauled me upward, directing me back out the door. One of them held a taser up and squeezed the trigger. It cycled with a loud ‘tick tick tick,’ white and blue zaps of electricity sparking at the end. “Don’t even fucking think about trying anything,” he said, jamming the taser into the small of my back as they helped me down the stairs.
They stuffed me into a waiting van and off we went, the two of them in the back with me while a third drove.
Eyes closed and head tipped back against the side of the van, I went over what little I knew.
Dimitri was here, which was never good. He was Sergei’s judge, jury, and executioner. He heard complaints and settled internal disputes, usually with a bullet.
Viktor knew I was coming.
Dimitri knew I was coming.
They weretogether, waiting for me.
That meant there wouldn’t be any sort of “trial” — Dimitri had already decided. As soon as we arrived at whatever destination they had in mind, I was going to fucking die. As long as I took Viktor with me, I didn’t care. That motherfucker had been breathing for too long as it was.
Exhaling a slow breath, I kept my eyes closed, trying to map out where I was based on the turns the van had already made. There were only so many places they’d take me. Based on where Viktor’s house was, I narrowed it down to a couple of the obvious choices. They were all fairly close, which meant I didn’t have a lot of time to act.
Bringing my hands closer together, I took a deep breath and pushed against my left thumb as hard as I could. Having been broken time and again over the course of my life, it didn’t take much to pop it out place. The sudden rush of pain wasn’t pleasant, but it was preferable to death.
Grimacing, I opened my eyes and carefully pulled my left hand through the cuff, keeping ahold of it in my right. Glancing between the two men seated across from me, I assessed each quickly, trying to decide who was the bigger threat.
The one on the right was larger, but the one on the left had the taser.
Gripping the handcuffs, I lunged at the one on the left. I drove the single metal strand up under his jaw, the steel teeth tearing into his skin and spurting blood before he could even yell.
The guy on the right threw himself at me, but it was too late for his partner. I was able to get my feet up in time and plant them in the center of his chest, kicking him backward into the double doors.
Grabbing the taser from the dead man, I turned for his partner, catching a boot to the side of the face. I shook off the pain and jammed the end of the taser against his thigh, pulling the trigger. He yelled and grabbed his leg, bending enough so I could grab his face. With one quick motion, I snapped his neck and threw his body out of the way.
The van jerked to the side and screeched to a halt.
Swearing under my breath, I clawed through the dead men’s pockets until I found the handcuff key. The backdoors flew open right as I unlocked the last leg iron.
I launched myself at the driver as soon as he came into view. We fell to the ground in a heap, wrestling for his gun. It went off between us, the sound deafening and dangerously close to my face.
A second bullet fired, but it wasn’t from the driver’s gun. We both paused and looked to the side.
Dimitri’s vehicle had pulled over too. He stood next to us on the shoulder, the gun pointed at me. “Quit fucking around and get in the car, Sasha,” he said between his teeth.
Resigned to my fate, I climbed off of the driver and walked in the direction Dimitri pointed. I slid into the back of his SUV, still holding onto the bloody handcuff like a shiv, just in case. Not that it would do me any fucking good against a gun.
A third bullet tore through the night. I looked up in time to see Dimitri shake his head and walk back to the car. The driver was still laying on the side of the road, blood trickling out of his forehead.
Dimitri climbed in next to me, the gun resting casually in his lap. “Now let’s go.”
* * *
Walkingthrough the backdoor of Delirium was like walking through the gates of Hell. The kitchen was sweltering and the bass from the club next door sank into my bones, like the percussion before an execution. And I knew, without a doubt, I was marching toward my own death. But first, I’d be weighed and measured by none other than Sergei Sidorov himself.
Dimitri led the way into a room off of the kitchen. I went next, with Viktor and the driver following us.
Sergei was seated in the middle of the room along with Roan.
