I press the button so the monitors will be hidden again.
Shoving the phone back in my pocket, I yank off my jacket and throw it to the side. Rolling up my sleeves, I leave the office. I manage to keep the anger in until I climb into my car.
My breathing speeds up.
My heart begins to beat heavily.
Slamming my hand against the steering wheel, I roar, “Fuck!” I grab hold of the wheel, my body shaking with rage. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Spittle flies as the shaking grows, then the demon in me takes over.
I drag in a breath, and then I still.
Time to hunt.
Chapter 14
TRISTAN
“Are you sure you want to watch it?” Alexei asks.
“Yes,” I grind the word out.
He taps the mousepad on the laptop, and standing next to him with my arms crossed over my chest, I watch as Hana comes out of the restroom.
The moment I see Ballmer, the blood in my veins turns to acid. When he slams her into the wall, his body covering all of her, I have to force myself to keep watching. The worst pain I’ve ever felt tears a hole through my heart.
My Hana.
I was in the next room, having a fucking drink while she was being assaulted.
I gasp for air, and the blow of Hana having to crawl to get away from him forces me a step back.
Alexei’s hand instantly grabs hold of my arm. “I’ve sent my men for him.”
“The warehouse?” I struggle to ask through the tightness in my throat.
“Yes.” Alexei closes the laptop. “I’ll drive.”
I walk out of his mansion, my mind still reeling from what I just saw.
Flashes of Hana fill my mind.
Her smiling at me.
I climb into the passenger seat of Alexei’s armored SUV.
Her palm against my jaw.
I press a fist to my mouth.
Her lips parting.
My knee begins to jump with rage.
The red marks on her skin.
“I need a gun,” I growl.
“Taken care of,” Alexei answers as if we’re talking about the goddamn weather.
Her crying in the shower.
“And acid.”
Alexei dials a number and orders something in Russian, then he mutters, “Taken care of.”
The moment the jeep stops inside the warehouse, I’m out. I nod at Demitri, Alexei’s right-hand man, where he’s leaning against a black SUV, and say, “Thank you.” He did all the dirty work getting Ballmer here for me.
Demitri lifts his chin.
Knowing no one will hear Ballmer’s screams, I stalk to where he’s slumped on a chair. I throw everything into the punch, and it sends his obese ass sprawling over the floor.
“Brother… tsk,” Alexei shakes his head at me. “Now we have to wait for him to wake up. Come here.”
My fists open and close, hungering for more as I stalk to a table. Alexei gestures a hand over the array of knives, pliers, hammers, and anything else that can be used to torture.
I begin to reach for a sledgehammer, but again Alexei shakes his head. “Keep that for the finale. Pain before death.”
I nod. “You’re right.” My eyes lock on Alexei’s dark ones. “Show me what to do.”
His lips instantly curve as he picks up two small knives.
“Paring knives?” I ask.
“Yes,” Alexei gives me an evil grin. “Perfect for the knees.”
He hands them to me, and we walk to where his men have pulled Ballmer back onto the chair.
Alexei slaps Ballmer’s cheeks a couple of times. “Mr. Ballmer, wake up.” He keeps tapping the red cheek. “Come on. Open your eyes.” Alexei looks at one of the men. “Water.”
They throw a bucket of water over Ballmer, and it makes the old man rumble something incomprehensible.
I watch as he comes to, and then he squints at me.
“Mr. Ballmer,” Alexei leans down to catch his eyes, “do you remember me?”
Mr. Ballmer nods.
“Good,” Alexei purrs. He holds two fingers up. “How many fingers do you see?”
“Two,” Mr. Ballmer answers, sounding a little more lucid.
“We’re making progress.” Alexei turns to me. “Only the knees… for now.”
Without hesitation, I bury the first knife in Ballmer’s left knee.
When I hear the holler of pain, the demon in me drinks it in like the finest wine.
I stab the other knife into his right knee, and it earns me the beautiful sound of agony.
“Ahh… a symphony of torture,” Alexei hisses, delight darkening his eyes. “Very good,” he praises me.
Our eyes lock, and I see my reflection in Alexei.
My mentor.
My brother.
Alexei takes a deep breath as if he’s savoring Ballmer's howls and wails of pain. His accent is thick as he murmurs, “Perfect. Now we drink.”
I do a double-take. “Drink?”
As I follow