Page 40 of Red Waters

Retribution and Revenge

“Yuuuuury…” called out his uncle in a patronizing tone.

Yury’s chest panted as we slowly walked through a hallway, me still in his arms. “I want to run to the car, but we will never make it. He knows what I’ve done.”

I asked him earlier what he had done, and he said what they deserved, so I knew we were now going to pay for whatever crime had been committed.

He whispered in my ear, “Grab my gun.”

Reaching my left arm around his waist, I lifted his shirt and palmed the piece, pulling it to my stomach and hiding it between him and me. Was it adrenaline that was helping my mind clear from shock and giving me the ability to focus? I don’t know. Maybe it was Timothy. Maybe Crash. Either way, I was very aware of the huge living room that we cautiously entered. There were floor to ceiling windows, and the ceiling must have been over twenty feet high. Only a few lamps were on, just enough light to make my heart pound erratically with the sight I will never forget.

So close. So close to freedom… that was not going to come.

In a white clothed chair sat the elderly man who had accused me of being a curse. Blood leaking from a hole in his chest made it evident his heart no longer had the ability to beat. His eyes having been removed showed the personal nature of such vengeance. The color red was seeping and staining the white material, explaining the lineage now broken.

“My brother did not deserve to be on the floor.” A man smoking a cigar sat on an extensive white couch, blowing smoke into the air. “Where you left him, Yury.”

I looked to Yury, shocked he murdered his own father, but he couldn’t seem to manage pulling his stare from Kirill. Or, better yet, from the dead woman in his arms as if reading my future.

Yury’s uncle was lounged in a relaxed manner as if there wasn’t a gunman aiming out the window that faced the backyard. Three slaves were still running as fast as they could. Their arms pumped, probably begging their bodies to reach the trees. A bullet fired through the air before the black slave slammed to the ground, never to move again. As the female screamed in horror, Grey Eyes tried catch up and gather her hand, but he missed. She, too, fell to the ground after a bullet forced her to do so. Grey Eyes looked back at the mansion for only a blink before darting off into the woods.

The lounging man puffed more smoke into the eerie night air. “Do not kill my biggest sale, ever.” The man head-gestured to another gunman. “Go get him. Not a scratch.”

From a shadow, a man appeared before disappearing out a French door to run across the snowed covered back patio. Even though I doubted God to exist after all I had been through, I still begged him to allow Grey Eyes to avoid capture. What pulled me from the prayer was Yury’s trembling arms. I peered up to see him staring into a corner of the room. Kirill was standing there, motionless, with a dead girl in his arms. He was crying, silently, as if unaware tears were falling. He was crying as if no longer soulless. I hadn’t seen him in so long, I had almost forgotten he existed. Now, I knew where he had been… falling in love.

Yury jolting had my eyes racing back to him. I watched his Adam’s apple bob… from under a blade. My mind not being of sane thoughts had me reaching up to move the knife being held by another of Uncle’s minions. The man behind Yury shook his head no to me. Slowly retracting my hand, I stared into the cruel dark eyes begging me to give him an excuse to slice Yury’s throat. I didn’t have to fake being terrified as I burrowed into Yury’s chest while secretly placing my trigger finger into position on the hidden gun. There was no way I was going to out shoot professionals, but there was also no way I was going to let Yury die without me trying.

The uncle’s voice spoke casually. “My son betrayed me, trying to hide his new infatuation. Look what it cost the bitch. Yury, tell your whore to see what will become of her.” Me not moving my head from Yury’s chest had the man temporarily losing his collected self. “I said look!”

Yury swallowed again before his low voice rumbled, “Fire, look.”

I forced myself to peek over my shoulder. Kirill now had drool dripping from his mouth. He stared beyond the corpse in his arms as his knees buckled and fell to the floor. Across his bent legs, her blond hair hung from her bloody head, mixed with a black leather diamond encrusted leash. My stomach turned as I realized he had claimed this poor young girl. She appeared no more than sixteen, and now had been brutally murdered. Her naked and abused body, sliding from weakening arms, screamed of her cruel exit from this world.

“Soon,” the uncle proclaimed, “it will be your turn, Yury, to watch your whore die.”

Yury’s arms tightened on me to be followed by his head being jerked back slightly. A tiny drip of blood slipped down his neck.

“But first, it is time to watch little Yury squirm.”

I remembered Kirill calling him that before raping Shelly.

Yury’s eyes closing with regret is how I knew my heart had yet to shatter completely. That there was more detail that I had to be told.

The uncle chuckled. “So, little Fire does not know?”

The knife dug into Yury’s neck just enough so he could peer down to me already wanting out of his arms. Yury granted my silent request, releasing my legs, but his right arm held me close to his stomach, concealing the gun hidden between us.

Uncle sounded pleased as he announced, “Whitney Summers, you are not the first ‘Fire’ Yury has ever had.”

No. No. No…

“In fact, it was my Seafoam that claimed his virginity.”

Oh, God, no…

“While pregnant with you.”

It was a knee jerk reaction to pull from Yury’s embrace and aim the gun at him. I guess I appeared very unstable and liable to shoot because the man holding a knife to Yury’s throat rushed out of line of fire. Yury’s uncle grabbed his old-man-gut as he laughed in delight.