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Two broken ribs. A broken wrist. Dislocated shoulder. A dozen or so stitches in her head. That was Liliya’s cataloged injuries when they were putting her back together. For three days, she’s been in the hospital, out cold and suffering.
I had one mission in mind when I left this morning, Nadia by her side. To kill Pavlo and Yosyp. To bestow them with every ounce of pain my sweet wife has endured because if anyone deserves to suffer, it’s them. Not her. Never her.
She was feeling safe for the first time in her life, and they took that from her, all so Pavlo could make a little money. Unaware that I stuck to my word and married the girl, despite the number of witnesses to our vows, Pavlo remained ignorant to the fact that I’ve always kept my promises.
Including the one to cause him as much harm as possible before I kill him.
The shed at the back of the Renznikov estate has been very handy for the work I have cut out for me. Currently, Yosyp is lying in a pool of blood and piss, his ears on the floor next to his head. His fingers and toes in jars of lye on a table near the window, where sunlight casts a soft glow around the room.
Liliya would have enjoyed a nice walk in the fresh snow today, with the warmth of the sun beating down on her from above. I discovered a great many things about my wife while we hid away in our room after our ceremony, and all of them have endeared her to me further. Made me love her more.
“What happened to her mother?” I ask Pavlo. It’s one subject Liliya doesn’t like talking about. We’ve explored in great length the atrocities that happened to me as a child, and she cries every time she thinks about it. But when there’s mention of her mother, she goes stone-cold and shuts down.
“Why should I tell you?” he spits out. Blood still drips from the corner of his mouth where I’ve busted his lip and knocked out three teeth.
“Because whatever happened traumatized my wife, and someone has to pay.” Sitting in front of him, Liliya’s guards and Petro at my back, I wait him out. If he did something to the woman, I’m sure he’ll want to brag.
Instead, he genuinely shocks me. “Perhaps you should ask your wife what she did to the woman who gave birth to her.” Petro makes a sound in his throat. I turn to look at him, and he’s as surprised as I am.
“How about you save yourself the pain and spit it out,” Petro demands, grabbing the barbed wire-covered bat from the wall.
A small yip leaves the older man, but otherwise, he remains silent. Until he lets loose a slasher-style scream when Petro swings, and it slams across his calves, ripping the fabric of his soaked pants and splitting the flesh covering the bone.
“Now?” I cock my head to the side curiously. I’ve been told it’s a deceitful look because I am young, and people get the impression I’m kind. If they were to look into my eyes, though, the indifference would tell the true story.
Gasping for breath, Pavlo pleads and begs for us to go easy on him. The time for compassion passed before I ever met the despicable man. “Last chance,” Petro warns as he prepares to swing again.
“Wait!” he cries out, sobbing like a blubbering child. Snot and spit mix on his lips, creating bubbles that dribble down his chin and chest as he heaves out each breath. “When Liliya was five, her mother went into some psychotic state and tried to kill her.” I share a look with Petro, not sure whether to believe the man or not.
“Continue.” I roll my hand, the blade in it glinting menacingly from the sunlight.
Clearing his throat as Yosyp groans on the floor, Pavlo’s eyes are trained on the man he considers his only ally. “My daughter pushed her down the stairs. She broke her neck.”
“What did she do to Liliya?”
Petro is in the corner speaking quietly, likely confirming the story we’re being told.
“Tried to drown her.”
A lethal grin lifts the corners of my mouth. “And you spent her life blaming her instead of protecting her.” I don’t need an answer. It’s the type of man he is.
“It was her fault,” he bellows, venom and hatred spewing from his eyes. “That useless child was never good for anything. I should have killed her myself that same night.”
Standing so fast, my chair skids across the room, shattering against the wall. I slash my blade across his chest three times, splitting him wide open. A slap of skin falls to the ground, and blood gushes from his stomach.
Petro places a hand on my shoulder, pulling me back before I can go for the jugular. “She’s asking for you. Begging, from what Nadia has said,” he murmurs in my ear.
“Neither of them leaves,” I snap, storming from the building.
If Liliya wants me, she gets me.
* * *
Entering the hospital, Vasyl’s eyes widen when he notices the blood spatter on my shirt. I’m drenched in it. I’ve spent hours playing with my prey, and I won’t stop until they’re dead. Liliya knows who I am, what I am, she won’t care.
“Put this on.” He holds out a scrub top for me to change into. I’m about to object when I get a good look at his eyes. He’s worried for her, which means I should be too.
As soon as I see Nadia standing outside her room, wringing her hands, stress lining her mouth, I know it’s bad, and I want to cause more misery to those who hurt her.
