Page 6 of Endless Obsession

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Page 6 of Endless Obsession

I don’t actually find any of this funny. I’m already thinking ten steps ahead of what happens next, because Lev is still watching me. My ass is on the line right now. Which is exactly why I’m putting on such a good show.

Award-winning. Oscar-worthy. If I were auditioning for tough Russian guy who takes fingernails right now, I’d have the part before another five minutes goes by.

“But what I was going to say—” I dig the tip of the knife into the small wound I’ve created, opening it further. “---is that you shouldn’t just be thinking short-term. I know this all hurts right now. And it’s gonna hurt for a while. I’m not going to lie to you about that. But think about your end, too.”

“My—end?” The man lets out another shallow whimper, and I see tears starting to track down his face.

It makes me hate Lev a little more for this. My whole family, really. Because this guy is no operative. He’s not tough or intelligent enough to actually have leaked anything, and I’d know that even if I wasn’t the one who had actually done it. This man is a grunt. He’s never going to be anything more than a low-level runner who is probably working for my family because he needs to pay off gambling debts or an overpriced car payment or some slumlord on the South side.

And he’s going to die, painfully, because my father is too goddamn greedy to stick to just making money on guns and drugs. He had to involve human flesh in it—the unwilling kind. And some sacrifices have to be made, so that I can keep throwing wrenches in that operation.

“You’re going to die today.” I feel a shudder vibrate through the man at that flat declaration, and he lets out a sobbing moan.

“Please—”

“Don’t waste your breath. You’ll need it. And no amount of pleading changes that outcome. It wasn’t even my decision, honestly. But how you die, is.” I twist the knife again in the shallow wound, pushing it deeper, and the man cries out.

“It—hurts?—”

“It does,” I agree. “And what hurts even more, is me opening up your stomach the rest of the way, letting you stare at your own guts baking on the concrete while I leave you here to die at the end of this. It’ll take a while for you to go, like that. In this hot warehouse, all alone, with no water. Nothing but looking at your own insides while the clock ticks away. Or?—”

I step back, pulling the knife free. He’s still hurting, but there’s no new pain right now. After we go for long enough, that lack of fresh pain will start to feel good. Like a gift. A reward.

“Or, I can end you with a bullet. Fast, clean. All the pain will stop. Right now, I know you still want to live. You can’t imagine bargaining for how you die instead of a chance to live. But we’ll get there. Right now, I’m just telling you to think about it.”

“Think about—” The man pants, looking down at me. Sweat drips off of the shaggy hair plastered to his face. He looks horrified. Frightened. I can’t help but wonder who he’s thinking about right now—who it is that he’s never going to see again.

Or maybe there isn’t anyone.

I know if it was me, hanging there right now, I wouldn’t have anyone to miss. But honestly, it’s better that way.

If there were someone for me to miss, then that would mean that there was someone that I’d be about to hurt by dying, who I wouldn’t want to.

And I’m too good at hurting people to let that happen.

—-

Thirty minutes later, the muffled sound of a silenced gunshot mingles with the whimpering moans of a dying man. The moans go silent instantly, and the body slumps in the chains, hanging heavily over the gory tarp.

I let the hand holding the gun fall to my side, letting out a heavy sigh as I crack my neck in one direction and then the other. “Clean it up,” I order the crew waiting on the other side of the warehouse, striding towards where Lev is waiting next to that damned toolbox.

I didn’t actually use anything in it. But I wipe the pliers down, dropping them inside before I look at my still-glowering brother.

“Why did you kill him?” he demands sharply. “He didn’t give you enough.”

“He gave as much as he was going to.” I close the lid of the toolbox. “That’s why otets wants me to do these jobs, and not you. Because I know when they have nothing else to give.”

Lev chuckles grimly. “So what? You should have kept going until he was dead. Maybe something else would have slipped.”

Exactly what I wanted to avoid. I don’t think this man—Bobby was his name, slipped out during one particularly fervent plea as I took off a toenail—knew jackshit about what I’m doing, or any of our operations, actually. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, working for the wrong fucking family. But there’s always a chance that he did. That he heard something. That some fed was stupid enough to offer him a shot at getting out for information. Normally, they wouldn’t work with someone as weak as Bobby, but sometimes the cops can be pretty fucking dumb, too. Especially the city police force, when they decide to start sticking their noses into things, hoping to find something that will let them show up the feds.

“Again, that’s why I do this work.” I stride towards the warehouse door, desperate for a breath of fresh air, even down here. The smell of blood and human waste is giving me a headache. “You do that—eventually, they start to realize that your promise of an easy death is bullshit. And then they get pissed. Rebellious. They’ll endure all sorts of pain just to not give you anything else, since you lied to them.” I step outside into the cool air, sucking in a deep lungful of it. “The promise of an end to pain is a great motivator. If you take that away, they have nothing to strive for. Nothing to bargain with.”

Lev makes an irritated face. “Regardless, otets will be unhappy. All he gave were two names. Other low-level men. No real information.”

“That’s because he didn’t actually have anything.” I pull my phone out of my pocket, searching for a rideshare app. I’m not riding back with my fucking brother. “And now he’s dead. We move on to the next one.” And I make sure my tracks are covered twice.

“What the fuck are you doing? We’re having dinner with family tonight.” Lev tries to snatch my phone out of my hand, but I’m leaner and faster than he is. I move out of the way, hitting the next available ride.




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