It took me weeks. Months. They were in an older part of the building.”
Alena looked up quickly. Ice and Storm turned their heads toward Czar. Savage shifted in his chair. The others all came to attention.
“Calina was in bad shape and there was no way to save her. I could see that. I was aware that Rurik knew it too. He whispered to her night and day. He hung in the loom, and they raped him. Sorbacov’s buddies—the ones that liked to smell blood and bathe in it when they fucked—they’d hurt him and then hurt her. He was a mess, so woven up tight in that torture device. I snuck him food and water as often as I dared. One night I got there too late. There were two men there, two of the worst ones that were always training Savage.”
Absinthe glanced at Savage, but he didn’t flinch. He never did. He owned who he was and made no apologies anymore. He couldn’t change it, and if he raged against his nature, he did it where the others couldn’t see it—only Absinthe.
“They used an actual whip on Calina until she was dead. They did so in front of Rurik, which was a big mistake. He went berserk, something they should have known would happen. Anyone would have seen he was a fighter. He was like us. He tore himself off the loom, destroying it, mangling his body. He killed both men and the loom master. That’s why the punishments with the loom stopped for so long. Rurik stopped them. He earned the name the Destroyer.”
“If he did all that,” Alena challenged, still not ready to believe, “why didn’t Sorbacov have him killed?”
“What do you mean, if?” Czar challenged. “Didn’t I just say I saw Calina die and Rurik woven into the loom? That he tore himself free and killed the men who murdered her? Sorbacov didn’t kill Rurik because he’s a first-class bastard and he thought he’d make it far, far worse than death for him. He sent Rurik to Black Dolphin Prison.”
There was a collective gasp. “He was a minor,” Code said. “That’s a prison made of serial killers, cannibals, pedophiles, all the worst possible criminals with life sentences. Minors don’t go there.”
“Sorbacov knew everyone at that time. His candidate by that time was president. Sorbacov ran the secret police. He could do anything he wanted, including throw a fourteen-year-old boy into the worst prison he could think of.”
“How did he get out?” Alena whispered; her voice slightly hoarse.
“He was trained as an assassin and inside the prison he’d made a name for himself. He was too tough to kill. Inmates left him alone. Guards were leery of him. Sorbacov checked on him, and in the end, wanted him back. He decided he could use him if he could find a way to control him.”
“How did Sorbacov do that?” Ice asked.
“He found someone else Rurik was willing to trade his soul to protect. He left the prison and continued to work for Sorbacov running high-risk operations. We crossed paths a couple of times, but Rurik is difficult to spot if he doesn’t want to be seen. The bottom line is, he needs a home, and this is it or he’s on his own. He needs an anchor. He’s willing to accept me as his president and abide by the rules. He insists on a unanimous vote. So, Alena, if you can’t give a yes, then you can shut him out.”
There was no doubt in Absinthe’s mind why Czar was president of Torpedo Ink, why he had taken charge of all of them at such a young age and managed to get them out of that hellhole alive. Had Czar not revealed to all of them that Rurik wanted a clean vote, then Alena would have cast a no. She couldn’t now. None of them could, not with what he’d endured. Not with him winning the contest fairly, losing his sister and then going to a worse hellhole than what they’d all been put through. None of them could be that petty.
The vote, of course, was unanimous, just as Absinthe knew it would be. Alena was the first one out of the room, muttering that she had a cake to bake. The rest of them scattered to get the gifts together or find decorations under Lana’s directions. Lana was busy texting everyone about where she might go to find dresses. Czar headed home to Blythe to help her get