My Masters' Nightmare Season 1, Episode 15 "Finale" (9 page)

Jagger’s eyes went to me. Camila
was standing behind him. “What’s happening?” he asked.

“I don’t know, but we need to get
out.” I turned to leave the room, stopping as two men with machine guns
appeared in the doorway. They were blond and stunning, their features perfect.

“Drop your weapons!” one of them barked,
sounding Russian.

Both the agent and I placed our
guns on the floor.

Someone in the passageway ordered
the Russians to move. The machine gun wielding men stepped aside, allowing …
the Black Russian to enter. He ducked his head to avoid hitting it on the
doorway, the man incredibly tall. He came to a stop a few feet from us. His ice
cold gaze swept over our faces, the pale blue of his eyes stark against his
tattooed face. He had a shaved head, with black tattoos covering every inch of visible
skin. He was wearing black tailored pants and a button-down silk shirt. His
fingers were heavily adorned with rings, expensive stones garnering them. His
gaze stopped on Jagger, a smile following.

“Pretty Jagger,” he said with a thick
accent. “I’m so happy to see you again.”

Jagger didn’t reply. His eyes were
filled with worry, no doubt over the Russian’s evident desire for him.

“Don’t look so concerned, Jagger. I
would never destroy true beauty.” He placed a hand on one of the machine guns,
lowering it. “I consider you a friend and friends don’t kill each other.
Though, not everyone in this room is a friend.” His eyes moved to Frano, his cold
gaze lowering down his body. “I always knew you would look good naked, Don.
Maybe you’re worth keeping alive after all.” He licked his upper lip. “Remember
what I said about licking you?”

Frano laughed, his drug addled mind
affecting his reaction.

The Black Russian’s eyebrows shot
up. “Not the response I expected.”

“He’s been drugged,” I said before
Frano could say something wrong, the painkiller making him unpredictable. “He
was severely whipped.”

“Show me.”

I turned Frano around, displaying
his bandaged back.

“Who did this?” the Black Russian
asked.

“Don Rosso’s son. He whipped Frano
until he was unconscious.”

“Where is this man now?”

“Dead.”

“Pity, I would’ve enjoyed punishing
him.” He cocked his head to the side, looking like he was examining Frano’s
bandaged back. “I have plastic surgeons that can help, although sometimes it’s
better to keep war wounds, since scars add character.” He indicated with his
finger for Frano to turn back around.

I directed Frano to face him.

“You appear to be close to the Don,”
the Black Russian said, “which means, you’re the woman Christo was referring to:
Sophia Salvi.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t recognize you, but then
again, you ran up those stairs so fast I didn’t get a good enough look at you.
How old were you at the time? Fifteen? Sixteen?”

“Fifteen and I was scared.”

“For good reason.” He reached out
to touch my hair, running the strands through his fingers. Letting go, he
looked down at my crotch. “You shouldn’t dye your hair; your natural coloring
is much nicer.”

“The FBI wanted me to dull it down
since it was too distinctive.”

“Very much so, it’s how I know
you’re a Salvi. So, where did your father disappear to?”

“Christo murdered him and my mother.”

“Well, one must have their
hobbies.”

“Murder isn’t a hobby!”

“Of course it isn’t; it’s art.”

I stared at him, thinking he was a
crazy motherfucker. He smiled at me, looking amused by my anger.

“Where’s Christo?” I asked, willing
myself to calm down.

“Downstairs, with a machine gun
pointed at his face. He was rather foolish to think I’d return his brother. Michael
Donatelli belongs to my sister and she would cut my hands off if I stole her toy.”
He smiled, his eyes twinkling. “And I most definitely wouldn’t return Matteo.
That blond tiger belongs to me.”

“Do you have my brother?” Jagger spoke
up.

“No. His whimpering made me soft. Since
I have Matteo, I don’t need to waste my cum on someone less deserving.”

“Then, where is he?”

“With my sister. He’s infatuated
with your abuser, so I let them stay together.”

Jagger’s face fell. “What?”

“The choir boy desires the priest,”
the Black Russian replied, appearing amused.

“No,” Jagger said, shaking his
head. “Thierry will be pretending.”

“I don’t think so. I know what
Stockholm syndrome looks like and he has it.”

“Thierry wouldn’t do that to me.
Please take me to him.”

“I have some business in Italy I
need to finish first. It was why I was able to get here so fast.” He smiled. “I
think Christo assumed I was in Russia, and since money talks, I was able to
track him down easily.” He flicked a hand at one of his guards. “Get Christo.”

The man disappeared out of the
room.

The Black Russian took a step closer
to Jagger. “State your price. One night. A room full of blondes and me.”

“No, he’s mine,” Camila snapped.

The Black Russian’s eyes moved to
her. “Donatelli. Pretty like your sister. You can have her back if you join the
orgy.”

Camila’s eyes widened.

The Black Russian flashed his teeth,
making him look even more sinister. Noise came from the passageway, grabbing
his attention. A guard prodded Christo inside the room with his machine gun.
Christo’s eyes shot to the Black Russian. He went for him, but the Black
Russian moved faster. He whipped around, attacking Christo with a roundhouse
kick. It struck Christo’s stomach, lifting him off his feet. He flew backward,
crashing to the floor. He grabbed his stomach and rolled onto his side,
spitting out blood onto the carpet.

“Oh, how the mighty have fallen,”
the Black Russian said. “But only you have yourself to blame for that, Christo.
You tried to negotiate with me. I don’t negotiate, I take. You also killed a
good transporter. I liked Sophia’s father, he was efficient. My transporters since
him haven’t been as good. I’ve had to kill a few because of it. Such a nuisance
since I don’t like interviewing new employees.”

Looking agonized, Christo struggled
to his feet. “You betrayed me,” he spat, his face beetroot red.

“And you’re surprised? Really,
Christo, I thought you would’ve been more prepared after I duped you the first time.”

“Just give me my brother and nephew
back.”

“No.”

“I did everything you asked.”

“Which is why I won’t kill you,
plus I don’t like killing friends, and despite what has happened, I still consider
you one.”

“Friends don’t betray one another.”

“If you don’t want to be my friend,
just say so, then I can kill you. So, are you my friend?”

Christo grimaced. “
Sì
.”

“I’m happy to hear that, and since
I have no further use for you, you can leave whenever you please.”

“What?” Christo said, looking stunned.

The Black Russian pointed to the
door. “My guards won’t stop you.”

“You’re tricking me again. As soon
as I walk out that door, I’ll get shot in the back.”

“On my sister’s life, I promise I
will allow you to walk free. I have no desire to kill you; your cancer will do
that.”

“No!” I yelled out. “Kill him now.
He murdered my parents. You should show my father some loyalty.”

The Black Russian turned to me. “I’ve
known Christo longer than I knew your father, so I don’t think so.”

“He could take revenge on you.”

“He’s not capable; his sickness has
made him weak.”

“I don’t care; I want him dead now!”

“I don’t take demands well.”

“Well, I didn’t take him murdering my
parents very well either!”

He cocked his head to the side. “You
remind me of one of my Black Vipers. I didn’t like that
cyka
,” he said,
calling the woman a
bitch
. “I took great pleasure in slicing a knife
across her throat.” He raised his hands, causing the guards to raise their
machine guns. “So,
cyka
, ask for something that won’t end in your
death.”

I glanced at Christo. “Let me hug
my master one last time.”

The Black Russian’s eyebrows rose.
“You hate him, yet call him Master. You ask for me to kill him, then want a
hug. Are you planning on breaking his neck? Because if you succeed; I will kill
you in the most painful way possible.”

“All I want is one hug.”

He placed a hand on Christo’s back
and pushed him towards me. “Give your slave what she desires.”

Looking confused, Christo held out
his arms. I stepped into his embrace, returning the hug. “This is from my
parents and all the people you have hurt or destroyed.” I kissed both his cheeks,
then pulled away from him. Christo stared at me, still looking confused.

“You can leave now,” the Black
Russian said to Christo. “One of my soldiers will escort you out.”

Christo nodded at me. “Until I see
you again,
schiava.
”

“Not unless it’s in Hell,” I
responded.

He sneered at me, then headed out
the door, one of the blond guards following him.

My eyes went to the Black Russian. “Did
you kill everyone?”

“Only the ones who fired at my
men.”

Camila cut in, “Is my niece alive?
She’s small and has a punk hairstyle.”

“
Da
.” His eyes moved to the
dead Donatelli on the floor. “I’m glad you disposed of that coward. He ran like
a scared girl, along with another of his comrades. Now, follow me.” He turned
and left the room, again ducking so he didn’t hit his head on the doorframe.

The remaining guard indicated with his
machine gun for us to move forward. I took a hold of Frano’s arm, directing him
out of the room. Jagger, Camila, the FBI agent, and the guard followed us out.
Two more Black Guards were in the passageway, one of them trailing the Black
Russian as he headed down the staircase. I paused at the balustrades, taken
aback by the sight below. The staircase and the downstairs floor were littered
with dead bodies. I focused on a man sprawled out across the bottom stairs. It
was Ercole. Although I hadn’t liked him, I hadn’t wanted him dead either, the
sight saddening me.

“Ercole!” Camila cried out. She
rushed past me, going to him. Jagger followed her, muttering, “At least he can’t
detonate the bomb now.”

I went to ask him how he knew about
it, but instead shelved the question, since it was of little importance. Kicking
into gear, I headed down the staircase with Frano, who was looking stunned. The
nearest Black Guard barked at us to sit next to a huddle of prisoners. Teodora was
amongst them, the woman sobbing uncontrollably. Another Black Guard was
standing next to her, holding a machine gun. I directed Frano to sit down next
to me, the agent taking a spot on my other side.

“Do you have a phone?” I whispered
to the agent.

“No, it was taken off me.”

My gaze moved to the Black Guard.
He was staring at Teodora, the man seemingly fascinated with her. He called her
cute in Russian. Teodora covered her face, no doubt scared of him. He prodded
her with his gun, asking for her age, his accent so thick I almost didn’t
understand him. She shrieked and shuffled over, making the guard laugh. He
glanced at another Black Guard, who took up position next to him. He started
jabbering away to the second one in Russian, asking if he thought their master
would allow him to keep her.

Jagger and Camila sat down next to
me.

“Do you have a phone?” I whispered
to them.

“In my right pocket,” Camila
whispered back.

Keeping an eye on the guards, I
slipped the phone out of her skirt pocket, then turned to face Frano, pushing it
in between us. He wrapped his arms around me, making it look like we were
hugging. I keyed in a number, our bodies hiding the phone from the guards. It
clicked over, loud static answering me. I quickly placed it to my ear, the single
word said through the line making me smile.

The first guard barked at me to
give him the phone. I held it out for him to take. He placed it to his ear,
barking stilted English into it. Frowning, he hung up and pocketed the phone, his
eyes going to me. “Who was that?”

“The wrong number.”

He made a derisive noise, sounding
like he didn’t believe me. “If you try anything like that again, I will kill
you.”

I smiled at him. “No need to, I
won’t do anything naughty again.”

The guard next to him laughed,
muttering in Russian he’d love to do something naughty to me.

Ignoring him, I turned to face the front
of the house. “Look out the window, Jagger,” I said.