Page 58 of Tracking Shadows

Katya freezes for a second, her usual sharp wit silenced as she stares back at him. “Dmitri,” she breathes.

Without a word, Dmitri steps forward, his hand reaching out to touch her face, as if he can’t believe she’s real. “I didn’t know,” he says. “I didn’t know you were alive.”

Katya’s breath hitches, and for a moment, all the walls she keeps around herself come crashing down. She leans into his touch, her eyes glistening. “You're alive.”

Dmitri pulls her into a tight hug, holding her like he’s afraid to let go. “I’m sorry,” he whispers into her hair. “I’m so sorry.”

Chapter 20 - Dmitri

The room is cold—deliberately so. The concrete floor beneath my boots is rough, and the air is stale, carrying the faint scent of blood and sweat.

I stand in the middle of the room, watching as my men chain him to the chair in front of me. His head lolls to the side, but I can hear his labored breathing, the gurgle of blood in his throat. He’s conscious enough to feel what’s coming.

Once he’s secured, I dismiss the men. They hesitate for a moment—used to seeing me composed, in control—but they leave without question. When the door closes behind them, the room falls silent, save for the shallow, wet rasp of Sergei’s breathing.

I step forward, slowly, savoring the moment. He’s barely able to lift his head, but I know he can hear me. He knows exactly who’s standing in front of him.

“Sergei,” I say, my voice calm, deliberate.

He coughs, blood spraying from his lips as he tries to form words. But I don’t let him. I crouch down, just enough so that I’m eye level with him, and grip his jaw, forcing his head up. His eyes are swollen, barely open, but they flicker with recognition.

“You thought you could escape me, didn’t you?” I ask, my grip tightening. “After all the years of hunting you, after everything you took from me, you thought you could just disappear and hide like the fucking coward you are.”

Sergei coughs, the sound wet and desperate, and tries to raise his head. “Dmitri . . .” he croaks barely audibly. “Dmitri . . . fuck.”

His eyes dart around the room, wild and pleading, like a cornered animal.

“Please,” he begs again, louder this time, panic creeping into his tone. “I was wrong. I was wrong about everything. I—I'll do anything. Anything! Just . . . just let me live.”

I raise his head to meet my eyes. His entire body is trembling. The pathetic sight of him disgusts me.

“I can give you money,” Sergei says. “Power. Information on the Broker. Whatever you want! Just don’t do this.”

I let out a low, humorless chuckle as I pick up a pair of pliers, turning them in my hand. Sergei’s eyes widen, and for the first time, I see genuine fear flicker in them.

He jerks against the restraints. “You don’t need to do this. I can help you. I can make things right.”

I step in front of him, holding up the pliers so he can see exactly what’s coming.

He squirms.

I crouch down in front of him, gripping his left hand and pinning it against the arm of the chair. I place the pliers around his pinky finger, squeezing just enough for him to feel the pressure. Sergei’s breath hitches, and he freezes, his eyes wide and wild.

“No . . .” he whispers, shaking his head frantically. “No—”

I squeeze the pliers tighter, and the bone snaps with a sickening crack. Sergei’s scream rips through the air, so raw and desperate that it echoes off the walls. His entire body convulses.

I move to his ring finger next, positioning the pliers around it. His pupils dilate, his chest rising and falling in quick, uneven bursts as he instinctively tries to push himself further away.

The bone snaps again, and his scream is even louder this time. Tears stream down his face, mixing with the blood that’s already dripping from his split lips.

“Please . . . please . . . please!”

Sergei’s sobs echo off the cold walls, his body shaking uncontrollably. He’s reduced to a pathetic mess of tears and blood. But then, in the midst of his begging, something shifts. His sobbing stops, and he lifts his head slowly, his eyes narrowing.

“You think you’ve won?” he rasps. “You think you’ve taken everything from me, but you’re wrong, Dmitri. So wrong.”

I say nothing as I watch the fight return to his eyes.