"Monkey," I greet and watch as her secret smile widens, but her body remains still.

After hearing my endearment, which I hadn't tried to keep from him, he clears his throat then calls out, "Come here, Casey."

As she walks to him, she keeps her hands folded in front of her, but meets his gaze without losing contact. Once she makes it to him, he swings around and positions his chair in front of her. His hands come to her arms and he soothingly moves them up and down.

"My sweet girl," he starts and she half-smiles, but even from here I know it's not real. "You'll do as I tell you, okay?"

"Yes, sir," she voices with yet another nod.

As Viktor moves her long, dark hair from her shoulder and to her back, he whispers something in Russian that I don't understand. The knock at the door calls for all our attention.

"Enter," Viktor clips before letting Casey go and turning back around in his chair, carefully folding his hands on his desk.

When Aimes walks in, I see he's dressed much differently than he was before. His black cargo pants, black turtle neck, and black boots are nothing compared to his darkened expression. Cilas walks in behind him with his usual scowl of distaste.

"You're looking well," Viktor oozes, scoping Aimes up and down.

"Jesus Christ," Aimes utters back, looking at Viktor then to Casey. "I've been here before, haven't I? You'd think those men thought I wasn't welcome."

Viktor casts me a sinful, know-all smile as I turn back to him for his return. "Hoss and his invalids must've already arrived."

Before Cilas is able to close the door, Viktor calls out to him. "Go sit with Anna. No one, not even the president of this club, Hoss Lattimore, gets to her. Do you understand?"

The ever-silent Cilas nods before grabbing the handle, closing the door, and leaving us all to business.

"Gotta say," Aimes starts, pulling up an empty chair from behind me and sitting. He makes himself comfortable before continuing. "Those men stink."

"They do," Viktor agrees. "But I've got no time to discuss the personal hygiene of the men who dwell in this cesspool of a community."

Aimes' eyes come to mine, and he smiles then winks with the eye Viktor can't see. Casey stands rigid by Viktor's side as Aimes turns and looks to her.

"This the girl?"

"This is Casey," Viktor corrects, his tone tight and terse.

"Come to me, darlin'," Aimes calls to her, but she doesn't move.

Instead, she turns her gaze to Viktor, who barely smiles. I don't miss the sadness in his expression as he nods toward the direction of Aimes. Sucking in a needed breath, Casey begins walking around the desk to him. With only his profile in my view, I see Aimes giving her a soft look in rea.s.surance.

Once she's closed the distance, Casey stands and looks to the ground. Aimes doesn't allow this for long before moving his hand to her chin and lightly pulling it up.

"Casey," he says quietly. "I'm Dextor."

"h.e.l.lo," she whispers, forgetting her place. She quickly amends herself while correcting her posture and looking him in the eye. "Sir."

"How old are you?" he asks, his eye boring into hers.

She s.h.i.+vers slightly then answers, "Eleven."

"Eleven," he repeats before looking over her shoulder to a very interested Viktor. "Well, you're a pretty girl."

When Aimes makes a move to touch her small face again, Viktor raises his hand. His one-word answer tells me he's not at all interested in losing Casey as his own. "Enough."

Aimes drops his hand and turns his head to me, but I can't read his expression.

"I'll take both. I want her and the other girl."

Viktor doesn't respond, but all eyes, including Casey's, s.h.i.+ft to him. He contemplates briefly before offering, "She's one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Are you sure you've got that kind of funding?"

The side I can see of Aimes' face goes rigid. "How the f.u.c.k is she worth more than the other girl?"

"That's the price. Take it or leave it."

"This is bad business, Mr. Koslov, and I'm inclined to call you out on it."

"It's not," Viktor chimes back. "But I've no intention of giving her away for a penny less than what she's worth."

Viktor's pus.h.i.+ng. And he's doing it on purpose. Anyone abreast of the situation could see as clearly as I do that he wants Casey for Anna.

"You understand this is business," Viktor adds.

"Yes," Aimes clips. "I do."

"Casey," Viktor calls, and she turns around in her place quickly. Aimes' hand reaches out and grabs hers. She doesn't pull away, but the rise and fall of her chest and the shaking of her chin are a clear indication she's scared. "Dextor wants to take you home."

If Viktor is waiting for Casey to dare a response, it doesn't come. Her shoulders rise slightly, tightening with anxiety, and from where I'm sitting, her knees become unsteady. Aimes says nothing and she dares to tear her eyes away from Viktor, darting directly to mine. Once they do, she breathes in deeply.

Before she's able to vocalize her thought to Viktor's claim, the door swings open and Dog stands on the other side of it. His eyes are wide, his clothes are dirty, and he's out of breath. "Hoss is looking for Hangar. He's been looking for a while. Dee Dee said we had to talk to you."

"Yes, Dog. I'm aware Hoss has returned. Close the f.u.c.king door behind you and tell Hoss I'll be with him when I'm finished."

"Sir," Dog interrupts.

Aimes' eyes come to mine in confusion as Viktor motions his hands to those in front of him. "I'm in a meeting! Do you not see this?"

"He's p.i.s.sed, sir," Dog states plainly.

Viktor raises his hand to keep him from speaking then starts to stand. "If he's so insistent, tell Hoss that Hangar's downstairs."

Downstairs.

The bas.e.m.e.nt is downstairs; the same place Hangar had Anna strung up as he beat her.

"Mr. Ahrens, you'll need to excuse me. I do apologize for the interruption. We're not finished with our business, but I've got to see to something of greater importance." I don't miss Viktor's heated tone, and neither does Aimes.

Aimes stands, places his hand on Casey's shoulder, and gives her a nudge in Viktor's direction. She walks to him carefully as Viktor extends his arm. Once she's to him, he places it around her shoulders.

"I'll be in touch. Until then, I'll a.s.sume you've accepted my proposal and will do what you must to get the funding in place," Viktor says to Aimes. "Max, take Casey to her room. Meet me back here in ten minutes."

Aimes stands to shake Viktor's hand. Viktor waves him off, his eyes now on Casey, and whispers again in Russian before he pushes her away and says, "Go, my love. Max will take you back."

Aimes, speechless as to what's playing out in front of him, says nothing.

"Ten minutes," I conclude as I stand myself, walking behind Aimes to get to Casey.

"Ten," he confirms before picking up his phone and dialing quickly. "And on your way, see that Mr. Ahrens is escorted out without interference from those idiots who've just arrived."

Chapter Thirty.

"You're going to witness firsthand what happens to those who betray my trust, Max." Viktor's words penetrate as he walks two steps ahead of me, using his anger to fuel his hasty descent into the bas.e.m.e.nt of Creed.

The man who looked so tired and fragmented while sitting beside a broken Anna as she slept her pain away is no longer present. Rather, this Viktor is only vengeance and fury.

"Where's Hoss?" I question, following him closely.

I can only hear the slapping soles of his expensive Italian shoes one after the other, rus.h.i.+ng down the cement stairs before he answers, "I imagine he's probably already aware of what's about to happen to his dear son. He's either left the building or he's downstairs guarding Hangar until I've arrived."

The last words of Viktor's a.s.sumption are immediately proven correct. Once we round the corner into the same bas.e.m.e.nt where Anna was held and tortured, it appears to be deserted. Other than Cilas, who stands in the corner watching the room, and Hoss who sits in a chair beside him, the room is void of Creed men.

Hoss, wearing his cut and looking beaten and overwhelmed, sits quietly with his elbows resting on his bouncing knees. His fingers are lost in the long, grey strands of his hair, and he's focused only on his boots and the concrete floor they rest on.

Hangar is tied up in much the same manner Anna had been, only his back isn't facing us as hers was. He's hanging by his wrists, face bloodied and torso looking broken, as he thrashes in place, talking his usual crazy talk. The scarred "M" that I once remember him cutting into himself stares back. Fresh traces of a new cut linger toward its bottom.

Mine, mine, mine.

Hangar's voice rings in my ear with clarity, remembering him making that statement with resolve the night I found him in the small closet unit as he continued ripping apart his own flesh.

She was mine first. She'll always be mine.

His crazy words became more alarming as he rocked back and forth and watched his own thick, dark blood pool to the floor.

Once Hangar hears us enter, his head jerks up. He's not watching Viktor or Hoss-his gaze is only for me.

"You're a dead man," he seethes, then spits on the floor beside him. "It'll be a slow one, too. Hoss'll help me see to it."

"Hangar, shut the f.u.c.k up," Hoss clips from the other side of the room.

Ignoring his father's advice, Hangar's hips move in a vulgar way as he hisses, "Emilyn's gonna be mine, too. I'll take care of her when you're dead."

The greasy blond hair he usually combs back now frames his pock-marked face. I don't respond to his ludicrous statements. The man is tied up in a bas.e.m.e.nt, beaten and bloodied, yet he's so certain I'm the one in harm's way.

He's f.u.c.king crazy.

Certifiably insane.

And finally he's f.u.c.ked-up enough to pay his due to each and every man or woman he's ever hurt. Including Dee Dee and her daughter, Casey.

Especially Casey.

"What are you gonna do to him?" Hoss stands upon hearing Hangar's second laughable empty threat. He takes a quick look at me, and judging by the question in his glare, he's probably wondering why I'm standing so close to Viktor.

Cilas' back straightens and his usually rigid and protective stance morphs into a furious and overpowering presence. While I've seen Cilas angered many times before, I don't remember him ever looking so ready to truly and genuinely end a life. His anger only has one target and it's aimed at Hangar.

"What am I going to do?" Viktor asks, chastising Hoss with a jovial but mocking tone. "Your son beat Anna so severely she can't stand on her own two feet!"

Viktor walks toward the same table where I had found the blade to help free Anna, and I notice now it's not the same set up as before. There are no torture devices, or aids in helping with it, in sight; no whips for a beating, or bottles of water for hydration, either.

Just one knife. Small enough to pierce, and jagged enough to kill.

Viktor picks it up, inspecting it before using its tip to pierce his own thumb. Once his own blood trickles down his hand, he swipes it clean before it's able to reach the cuff of his expensive dress s.h.i.+rt. Outwardly, this is the dirtiest I've ever seen the man get.

Luckily, Hoss realizes the situation is serious enough to stay quiet.

"Your son is a killer. We both know it. He's been hurting young women for years, and you've done nothing to rein in his rabid tendencies."

Hoss' eyes immediately find mine once the truth of his relations.h.i.+p to Hangar is open and penetrating the room. His eyes grow darker with every moment that pa.s.ses.

"He's family, Viktor..." Hoss insists.

"He hurts women!" Viktor snaps with a booming voice I'd never believe he had in him to use. "Innocent women!" he corrects himself with the next breath.

Hangar speaks in his own defense. "That f.u.c.kin' c.u.n.t of a wh.o.r.e called me a p.u.s.s.y! She was asking for it, Koslov. That c.u.n.t told me she'd never be mine."

Using the same voice I'd just heard him use, Viktor's intimidation infiltrates the area around us. "Anna is mine! Not yours, not your men's, not anyone's."

Hangar's anger, possibly coupled with his fear, takes hold. His legs begin to kick, his arms pulling from his shoulders as he tries to walk himself out of the binds. His voice, screaming words no one could make out clearly, are ragged and uneven through his heavy pants of air. Saliva is starting to drop from his mouth and sweat begins to bead at his forehead.

With one quick, single nod from Viktor, Cilas launches from his place. He walks to a small bag sitting on the floor beside Hangar. With quick work, he opens it and pulls out a red scarf. Quickly, as Hangar keeps rambling on about hating Anna and how he meant to kill her, Cilas wraps the scarf through Hangar's open mouth and secures it on the back of his head. Hangar continues to try to move, but with this body, face, and deviant spirit so immobile, he stops and lets himself go limp. He stays as quiet as I do, waiting to see what will happen next.

I've never been a man who has sought to witness another man bleed. Even in my past, as dark as it had been before, I still tried to find a purpose in each soul born to this earth. Hangar, however, doesn't have one. It's been proven time and time again that he's incapable of good, and he no longer deserves to walk this earth. The soul he once had, if he ever did, never deserves a taste of freedom, and my solemn hope is that it's never set free.

The b.a.s.t.a.r.d can burn in h.e.l.l, but those he hurt, tortured, mutilated, and killed deserve the wrath he has coming to him soon.

"He didn't mean to hurt Anna," Hoss interrupts, making excuses for his son. "He can't help himself."

"Can't help himself," Viktor repeats Hoss' words, but his eyes don't leave Cilas until the big man has returned to his supervising position in the corner of the room.

"You know what he meant to her," Hoss whispers, and Viktor winces briefly at the mention of 'her' being his own sister, Ursa.

"I know what he put her through. I also know she'd be appalled by his actions. He hurt a woman. More importantly, my woman." Viktor stops speaking long enough to take in a breath. "It's a blessing Ursa isn't here today."

Knowing he shouldn't dare to challenge Viktor, Hoss sits back down and a.s.sumes his prior position. From here, I can't make out the words he's speaking to his long-since-dead wife.