Page 76 of Depraved

“Get off her,” the pakhan snaps.

For an insane moment, I think he’s going to honor our bargain. I think he’ll let her go.

She’s injured, but she’s alive. She curls up in agony, moaning my name.

Then his hand fists in her hair, and he drags her across the floor towards me.

I strain against the cuffs. Unyielding metal cuts into my skin, but the pain is nothing compared to the abject horror of Karolina at my enemy’s feet.

“I gave you a chance,” he taunts. “You want to be with your beloved? Here he is.”

He tosses her down directly in front of me. She looks up at me with shining eyes.

“I won’t leave you,” she says, a broken promise. “Never again.”

Blood seeps from around the knife and pools on the concrete beneath her.

“Don’t die on me yet. I’m not finished torturing Ragnarök.”

But he’s not talking about cutting me open.

He lowers himself so his weight pins her beneath him. She thrashes and strikes out with her fingernails. He dodges and gives the knife a vicious twist.

My scream mingles with hers. Wet heat pours down my cheeks. Blood seeps from my torn wrists.

He gropes her breasts and licks the tears on her face. His eyes roll back like they’re the most delicious delicacy he’s ever tasted.

I’ve never truly wanted to relish in killing a man until this moment.

I’ve never taken pleasure in my kills. It came easily to me, but it wasn’t because I have a black soul.

It was easy because I was doing it all for her.

So I could survive and one day come back to her. So I could take care of her in the way she deserves.

I’m not a monster because I was born evil. I’m a killer because I love Karolina so much that it makes me insane. There’s nothing monstrous about loving her.

But the revelation is coming too late. None of it matters now.

All I know is that Sokolov needs to die, and I’m shackled to this chair, helplessly watching him torment her.

The room goes dark. But I’m not the one who shut off the lights this time.

The surviving men murmur uneasily.

The backup generator doesn’t kick in.

Logan. My friend must’ve found a way to help me remotely, after all.

I swallow my scream as I dislocate my thumb and wrench my hand free from the cuffs. The pain is nothing compared to seeing Karolina’s blood and tears.

I move through the darkness, a silent, deadly shadow.

The remaining men flee, their heavy footfalls slapping against the concrete.

There’s only Sokolov and me.

His phone lights up, casting a spotlight on the empty chair where I was trapped only moments ago.