Madness (Revenge Series Book 3) (21 page)

There is no one in the world like Josslyn Stowe, and I will miss her greatly when she is gone. But life must go on. There are many years left in this existence, and I intend to keep breathing.

I turn and walk back to the action around the fireplace. I hold up the needle, and Stravinsky gives me his approval for my weapon of choice.

Cubby is still kneeling on the floor, his eyes asking,
Are you sure about this
? My answer to him is the raise of a brow. He doesn’t flinch, knowing something is about to happen.

Kneeling down next to Josslyn, I look over her broken, wounded body. She has been through so much in her life, but nothing more horrendous than when she met me. Her life has been in danger every second she has been by my side, and now it’s time for it to be over. Her suffering needs to end now. Our journey is finished. Our time together is over. This is our conclusion.

I straddle her hips and lean forward.

She trembles as she connects her eyes with mine. They are full of trust. The peace inside her irises tells me she understands.

I lean down, savoring her lips one more time. They are warm pillows that changed my entire world the moment I kissed her. I didn’t fully understand the impact kissing her had on me before. In our final moments together, I know I will never feel that again.

I pull my lips from hers, sit up, and whisper my apologies. I look up at Stravinsky who waits with anticipation. Then I swallow down the pain, jerk my arm back, and ram the needle into her chest.

Game over.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-
T
HREE

Josslyn

August 25, 2015 11:48 p.m.

M
y body burns, but the pain melts away when the soft flesh of his lips connects with mine. I can’t control the heat. It’s a rush over every inch of me. I don’t want it to stop.

My pelvis meets his, joining us, linking us together. His weight protects me from all the terror that surrounding us. I feel safe in a situation that would otherwise not be.

The touch of his heated palms wrapping around my wrists doesn’t send me into a panic; it sends me over the edge. And I’m ready to fall. I’m ready to submit to anything he demands.

The frigid air surrounding us mixes perfectly with the warmth swarming my veins. I welcome the overwhelming feelings. I don’t know why; I just do. He is the comfort in all the chaos I agreed to, and not a single thought would have changed my mind.

I open my eyes when his lips leave mine. The ache of their departure replaces the heat generating in my core. Nikolai sits up on his knees as he continues to straddle my hips. Everything around us halts. All the commotion, noise, and sounds—everything just stops.

My arms are free from his grasp, but I’m incapable of moving them. My entire body is frozen to the floor. I’m entranced by the cool, blue gaze above me and the hidden pain that lives behind them. I want nothing more than to sit up and simply hold him.

The pain from his past has been yanked from its dark, concealed depths, only to resurface in front of me. This, I recognize. I understand it because events as tragic as ours will never cease to exist. They will only be subdued in the blackest parts of our souls before a single fateful moment brings them all rushing to the surface. I can see all of that now in his eyes.

Suddenly, a rush of immense pain pulls me from my thoughts and finally breaks my connection with his eyes. It’s then I notice the syringe protruding from my chest.

Tears flood and drip from my eyes. I can feel the warm drops pass over my ears before disappearing into my hairline. The air in my lungs becomes labored as I struggle for every single breath. I can’t say a single word. I can’t scream out in terror or pain. I can only gasp my final breaths as I look into the pain flooding his eyes.

He leans down, putting his lips next to my earlobe. The warm air from his mouth sends a chill down my spine as he whispers, “I didn’t want to do it, Josslyn. You have to believe that, but this is how it has to be.”

My mind is frantic. I want to know why this is happening. After all we have been through, why leave it like this?

Nikolai raises his head and focuses solely on me.

Chaos resumes, but we only see each other. His eyes look as crisp as a blue mountain lake. I marvel at beauty of them as he watches the light slowly die out of mine.

“This is the only way. This is how
I
survive this, Josslyn.” He lowers his mouth and faintly brushes my lips again. The warmth of them captures me once more as he whispers, “I’m sorry.”

As Nikolai stands, everything starts to fade away. All the pain residing in my chest and the thoughts of fear are released from my consciousness. Soon, it will all be gone.

I no longer have the strength to keep my head up and watch where he goes. I let my head roll to the side, my view barely visible between the cracks in my eyelids. Then I connect my sight with the pool of blood underneath me. All I can do is lie here and feel my short gasps of air.

Just before it all fades to black, a white rose is loosely placed in my hand, resting in the crimson pool surrounding me.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-
F
OUR

Nikolai

August 25, 2015 11:51 p.m.

J
osslyn’s body goes limp underneath me, and all the rage built over the past five years finally comes to a head. I jerk the needle from her chest and throw it in the fire. If my mentor had been paying closer attention, he would have seen I managed to switch the needles when I leaned forward to kiss her, slipping the cyanide needle between our bodies and pulling the etorphine syringe out of the front of my pants simultaneously.

Stravinsky said a lot of things, but the horrible murders of my family members will never be forgiven. I will see this mission through. I owe it to all the good people on this earth. To my brother Roman, Mary, my daughter, and their son. I owe it to Josslyn who has suffered at the hands of people like Stravinsky, Vlad, and me.

She was a kid of fourteen when her life was forever altered, and every day since, she has suffered through the loss of her family. We all played a part in that, and now we all have to pay the consequence, starting with my mentor. What I have in store for him will last all night, and it will be bloody.

Still straddling Josslyn’s hips, I pull the cyanide filled syringe from my hiding place then stand.

Stravinsky has a proud father look on his face. His ego is too great to realize what is about to happen.

I walk over to his waiting frame, his arms ready to embrace me as I stand before him.

“I have never been more proud of a soldier than I am of you, Nikolai. No one on this earth can do the things you have better than you.” He pulls me close, wrapping his arms around me.

Carefully placing the needle in my palm, my eyes meet Cubby’s and give him a wink. He squints slightly, but then his eyes brighten in realization that the shit is about to hit the fan.

With a swift move, I jerk my arm up and plunge the needle into his neck. The soldiers behind Cubby move to react, but I quickly spin around, placing my front to Stravinsky’s back, my fingers clasping the needle, poised for injection.

“Call off your men,” I demand in Stravinsky’s ear, and he motions with his hand for them to lower their weapons to the floor. Like the loyal dogs they are, they obey.

Cubby jumps to his feet, snatching a pistol from the guard and pointing it at Vlad who is still sitting in the chair, completely baffled as to what is going on. He has always been deadly, but never smart.

“You traitorous bastard!” Stravinsky screams. “I gave you everything.”

“I know, and now you will give me your life, too.” I look out at the men who have dropped their weapons. “You”—I point at the smaller man in front—“kick the guns behind you, toward the door.”

The man slowly moves, kicking the pistols and other assorted weapons like he was told. The other ten soldiers stand by with their hands raised in surrender as their fellow thief takes their weapons. All the while, I keep my fingers on the plunger of the syringe.

“Good. Now come here.” The man walks over and stands beside me. He thinks he is sly, perhaps that he can pull a fast one on me, but I see the bulge in his pants, and I highly doubt it’s his dick.

I move my hand viper fast, reaching in the front of his pants and pulling the weapon out in mere seconds. Then I switch the safety off and smile at him. “Today is not your day to be a hero.” I squeeze the trigger, and the man’s head explodes. Blood and brain matter splatter across the floor followed by the man.

Vlad stands to assist, but Cubby fires a shot into his shoulder, making him collapse back down in his chair.

“I think it’s time to call the men to the table for dinner,” Cubby says, which is code for “I want to take all these fuckers out.”

“Agreed. And from the looks of it, we will have to order supper for ten,” I reply, and Cubby nods.

I lift my arm and rest it on Stravinsky’s shoulder, the gun pointing at the standing men.

Cubby’s gun fires, and seconds later, so does mine. We shoot, taking each man out seamlessly within seconds. If they tried to move, they couldn’t; they simply weren’t fast enough to outrun our marathon of bullets..

I dig the gun into Stravinsky’s side and demand, “Move.”

He starts walking, and I nod at Cubby who brings Vlad with him.

I sit Stravinsky at the table on the opposite side as the weapons and hold him at gunpoint. The needle is still dangling from his neck, but I have released my hand from it. It’s served its purpose. I won’t let him go out that easy. I need to take my time with him.

Cubby finishes cuffing Vlad to the chair then comes to us and fastens Stravinsky, as well. I pull the needle from his flesh and squeeze the solution onto the floor. A large bowl of cherries is near me. The lush, succulent fruit beckons as I move to the dish and snatch one up.

I put the fruit in my mouth and savor the sweetness. It’s perfect. Stravinsky can only watch I was take my time chewing and indulging. One after another, I bite the fruit from the stem, chew, and spit the seed out at his feet. I’m merely toying with him, making him mentally break down as he awaits his fate.

My vengeful beast is fully awake, pacing back and forth, waiting to be released. I stalk my way around the table, looking at the variety of weapons. Sure, I can shoot him a bunch of times and watch him bleed out, but that isn’t very gratifying to me. The grenade makes me think, but it’s too messy, and he wouldn’t get the opportunity to feel the pain. For a moment, I debate on getting the briefcase from my car in the woods, knowing the tools inside would make this job even more satisfying, but I have waited too long.

After I pass around the end of the table, I see my old, trusted friend. She has been there for me through thick and thin, and I find it rather ironic that the man who gave me my Bowie should also die by it.

I pull the knife off the table and hold the cold steel in my hand. The weight is perfect, and my fingers mold around the handle.

I can feel all the hate, pain, and loss from years upon years under this man. He needs to feel a semblance of what I feel. Stravinsky needs to know what pain is all about. Then he can die.

I stalk my way over to my prey who is sitting in a fine suit, tattoos covering his fingers and sweat dripping from his brow.

Wanting to see the blood as it oozes from his body, I slide the razor sharp blade under his fine threads and use the serrated side to start sawing off the material. Once it’s cut enough, I put my knife down and use my hands to yank the fabric from his body. It takes some time, but I manage to get him shirtless.

The tattoos on his chest mirror mine almost to a T. The eight-pointed stars over his shoulders and the crucifix in the center of his chest are just the starters. He also has a large rose entwined with the cross between his pectorals, meaning he turned eighteen in prison. However, his are older and faded.

I step closer to him, his knees touching mine as I hover over him. His black eyes are laced with evil, and I’m sure he’s thinking he can have the final say in what happens, but that will never be a privilege he gets again.

“Nikolai, you’re a cold-hearted bastard to do this to me after everything I’ve done for you,” he sputters out between breaths, trying to remain hard until the end. But I can see him crumble bit by bit as I murder him with my eyes.

I pull another cherry from the bowl and pop it into my mouth. Then I lift the crystal glass to my lips and swallow the champagne. The flavors complement each other, and I find it fitting for the monumental occasion that’s about to take place.

“This is the end of the line, my friend. Your reign as godfather is over.” I lean in close and put the knife on his shoulder. Just as he did with Josslyn, I slowly ram the tip of the blade through his soft flesh.

He clenches his jaw and groans out in pain between his teeth, but that’s not enough, so I lean into the handle, using my weight to plunge the knife deeper.

“Ugh!” Stravinsky bellows out.

I lift my lips into a sadistic gleam. That’s the sound of sweetness: my mentor writhing in pain.

“I saved your life!” he screams out, strings of saliva dripping from his lips as he pants.

“Are you uncomfortable, old friend?” I ask with a laugh.

“You’re nothing but a coward, Petrov!” He spits at me. “All I see now in front of me is a spineless coward! All I see is a weak man who put his blood in front of his real family. You put that piece of shit before the honor of the Vory V Zakone!”

“Well, perhaps I should fix that.” I walk back to the table and locate a small, sharp knife. The small knife is mainly used as a throwing knife, but it will do just fine for what I have in store. It’s not as precise as my tools, but I’m not looking to win any awards or anything. I’m simply wanting to rid him of seeing me if he can’t stand the sight of what’s before him.