There’s not much in here. A dusty table with a chair on either side of it. A few boxes. In the corner, a pile of rags and clothes that look like they’ve been there for years. And on one side of the wall, something brown and crusty looks caked onto the cement. I can only imagine what that is.
I take a seat on the floor, bringing my knees up to my chest and pressing my forehead against them.
A few minutes pass and the door opens again, only this time it isn’t the officer or another one of Konstantin’s goons.
It’s him.
“You’ve certainly grown up, Lucy,” he says, chuckling. “I can’t remember the last time I saw you. Must’ve been more than fifteen years ago, yes?”
“Yes.”
“Normally, I’d become reacquainted on better terms, but I’ve heard about what you and your little boyfriend have been planning.” He says it like a schoolteacher, with an air of superiority, as if he’s talking to a child.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“No?” He tilts his head and smiles humorlessly. “I don’t know whether I should feel insulted or honored. Honored because I ended up on both Roman’s and your hitlist. Insulted that either of you thought you could touch me.”
He crosses the room and takes a seat at the table. “Did you really think you were going to get away with this, Lucy? Be honest.”
I swallow down the rage and anger at his condescension. “I thought maybe I’d have a little bit of your luck and get away with murder, yes.”
He nods slowly. “So, this is about what I think it is.”
“If you think it’s about you killing my parents, then ding, ding, ding.” The bitterness drips from my words. I can’t hold it back like my rage. It’s already taking every last bit of control not to lose my entire fucking mind.
“You’re going to have to remind me. Who were they again?”
His brevity is a slap in the face. He knows who they are. He has to remember. He just wants to make me say it, to pretend like they didn’t matter to him in the slightest. “Roger and Evelyn Walker.”
“Ahh,” he chuckles, leaning back in his chair. “I remember the Walkers now. They were the first case I ever beat. You know, I thought it would be harder to get out of that scot-free. I guess I’m just lucky you weren’t in the house. A dead kid on my hands would’ve been a nightmare. Thankfully, it was just your mommy and daddy that died.”
He’s rubbing salt in every wound I have, trying to get under my skin. He wants this to hurt more than it already does. He wants me to suffer before he finally decides to kill me. I refuse to give him any kind of outburst.
“I used to think you were my boogeyman,” I say calmly.
“Am I not?”
“No.” I let out a small laugh. “No, you’re not as scary as I imagined. You were scarier in my nightmares. Downright terrifying. But right now, you’re just a pathetic psychopath in an ugly suit. You’re a coward that has everyone else do his work for him. The people I really should’ve been afraid of are your lawyers and lackeys. They’re the ones that do all the important work.”
My words dig at him. I can see that perfect blasé exterior of his crack for just a second, and I soak up every drop of his offense. Fuck him. Fuck his stupid, smarmy face. He knows my weakness, but now I know his. His insecurity.
“Are you going to have one of your little henchmen kill me, Abram?” He seems surprised that I would call him by his first name. “I’ve spent my entire life planning how I’d kill you, and I’d be terribly insulted if you passed the job off to someone else. Are you too much of a pussy to actually get your hands dirty?”
Konstantin stands up and stalks towards me, grabbing me by the chin. I feel my heart twist, but I can only laugh in his face. “You really think I’d kill you, Lucy?” he asks. He brushes a strand of hair from my face and drags his fingertip down my jawline, tracing it.
“Isn’t that why you brought me here?”
“No, no, sweet girl,” he purrs. “I brought you here so that I could get Roman. I don’t have any plans for your death. You’re much more useful to me...” he trails off for a moment as he looks up and down my body, drinking in my curves and my exposed skin with greedy eyes, before he finishes: “...alive.”
I shudder. “What?”
“You look shocked to hear that,” he grins. “He’s on his way right now. All I had to do was tell him where you were and he came running. I’m sure he’ll be here any minute now. And when he does arrive, I’ll bring him in here and let you watch as I slit his throat. You’ll get a front-row seat. Right in the splash zone.”
The mental image makes my blood run cold.
“Fuck you.” I haul back and spit in his face.
He recoils and pulls a handkerchief from his pocket. With a quick swipe, he cleans his cheek. “Keep fighting me,” he says in a low, controlled voice. “It’ll only make it that more fun when I make you mine. You’ll wish I’d slit your throat too.”
He leaves without another word, slamming the door behind him. The second he’s gone, I press my head against my knees. This is worse than I ever imagined. I was stupid enough to think a man like Konstantin would simply kill me and not keep me around for more sadistic purposes. He would never give me a way out like that.
The fight in me almost burns out, but I can’t give up.
I wipe my face on my knees and force myself to stand up. There has to be some way out of
