Page 54 of Altered By Fire (Undercover Sinners 1)
"You cocksucking piece of shit bastard son of a whore," Dmitri chokes out, but the words feel almost hollow, empty, like he already knows he's a dead man. At least I know Mace and Hawke weren't talking about the priest, I think as Mace circles the chair where Dmitri's bound, his wrists shackled to a metal folding chair along with his ankles.
"All we need to know is the pecking order," Mace says, picking up a pistol and checking the magazine to see if it's loaded. "And then—"
"You shoot me anyway," Dmitri says, his voice as cold as ice, like a snake slithering down my spine. I never liked him. God, there were times when he looked at me, that I just knew he'd rape me if he could, hold me down and make me scream. The only thing that stopped him from doing that was fear of another monster: my own father. "A man like me has few qualities worth mentioning. Loyalty might as well be one of them."
Mace puts the barrel of the gun to my father's minion's head and just stands there, his handsome face stoic and frozen into a mask that lacks any hint of empathy or compassion. Not that I'd expect or want any for Dmitri, but just because I expected that out of Mace period.
Who the hell would've thought of him as the … err, extractor?
My dad likes to call his minions who torture people, his elves. Dumb as that sounds, as soon as you see him say it with that maniacal grin on his face, lips stretched wide, balding head shining in the light, you feel that chill down your spine, too. "They're Santa's little helpers," he'd joke, but it wasn't at all funny in context.
I'd seen his 'torture room' once, and I never want to see it again.
As much as I hated Dmitri, I didn't want to see this either.
"Last chance," Mace says, still holding the gun to Dmitri's head. "Tell me now, and I won't blow your kneecaps off before I kill you."
"You want me to beg? You have no idea what Konstantin would do to a rat. This is nothing." Mace doesn't even bother to respond to Dmitri's words, lowering the gun and blowing a hole through one of Dmitri's knees and then the other, just like that. Blood and bits spatter everywhere, and my head feels suddenly light and detached, like it's floating on the end of a string.
There are these few, awful moments where I can't hear anything but the booming sound of the gun, like the rolling of thunder. It echoes around the enclosed space, so loud that it makes me cringe. And I'm pretty sure Mace is using subsonic ammo and a suppressor, just like my father's men. Still, loud. Loud, loud, loud.
Just not as loud as the thundering of my heart, the sound of my thoughts.
I need to get out of here before it's too late, I think, but then, the booming noise fades and I can hear Dmitri making these animalistic keening sounds of pain. Mace raises the pistol again, and shoots Dmitri in the chest.
The same way my father shot Kisten.
I can't help myself.
I throw up all over the floor with a violent retching sound and then shove to my feet, knocking over some old music stands as I go, sending them clattering to the floor. I'm running from pure instinct then, taking off at a frantic pace that I know isn't fast enough, isn't good enough.
Mace catches up to me right after I leave the basement via the locked door and start to stumble my way down the aisle of the church. He tackles me in just the right way that I can see a flash of Saint Rita's painting before I fall to my knees with the big man on top of me.
"Talia!" he's shouting as I struggle and fight, clawing and kicking and biting like my life depends on it. It feels futile though, like Mace's muscles are made of steel. I'm so upset, I can't remember a lick of the training I went through today with Hawke.
Dmitri's chest exploding like a watermelon on a hot summer sidewalk.
Kisten's chest exploding.
I did that once, threw a watermelon off a picnic table and onto some cement. I was just a kid and it sounded like fun. The destruction was certainly something to behold, all those juicy, gleaming red bits everywhere. Like now. Dmitri, spattered across a basement wall … and Kisten spattered all over me.
"Calm down, Talia," Mace is grumbling, his dark eyes desperately trying to latch onto mine. Finally, he pins my arms above my head, and I give up for a moment, closing my eyes and reliving that horrible moment over and over again. As soon as my dad screwing the enemy, it was all over. For a while there, it was a bit of fun, a streak of danger and excitement.
