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I catch my reflection visible on the glass covering the poster, and I instantly let my hand fall back, feeling like my touch somehow tainted her. I guess this is as close as someone like me—hideous inside and out—should be allowed near such perfection.
Finding a suitable fuck was usually tricky, but it had nothing to do with my face. A lot of women from our circle were eager to lure the Bratva’s Butcher into their bed, but they became significantly less eager when I presented them with the rules: only remove enough clothes to get the job done, strictly from behind, and no touching of any kind.
I’ve never met anyone who looked like that. He could probably bench press me for hours without even breaking a sweat.
“Now, let’s clear up a few things,” Mikhail says. “You touch my wife again, in any way, I cut off your hand. I hear you speak badly about her, I cut out your tongue. You dare to even think about hitting her ever again, I cut off your head. Am I clear, Bruno?”
“Daddy says he is a little ugly. I asked him. But you are so pretty, Bianca. You are like a princess. I like your hair. Will my hair be long like yours?”
Sergei is sitting at the table in the middle of the kitchen, with a disassembled sniper rifle in front of him, polishing one of its parts, and whistling. The whole surface of the six-seat table is piled with weapons of various kinds. Guns, knives, automatic and semiautomatic rifles, and God knows what else.
He looks up at me, leans back in his chair, and crosses his arms. “For the shrink thing to work, Mikhail, you need to actually talk to the guy about the things troubling you. For most of the things that annoy me, I signed documents saying I’d keep my mouth shut or end up in jail. Or worse.”
“Yeah, it wouldn’t do it for me. Without work, I’d probably flip completely.” And God save us all if that ever happens. If Sergei does flip at some point, someone will have to put him down like a rabid dog.
“Do you know what they do to thieves in some countries? They cut off their hands. I like that practice.”
“The way you look at my Bianca. Like you would lay your body over a field of burning coals, so she could cross it without burning her feet.”
“No. Information extraction is my job. And anyway, who could be a better interrogator than someone who’s experienced most of the torture techniques himself?”
“At my mercy.” I wonder if she realizes how true her declaration is. She could press a gun to my temple and pull the trigger, and I wouldn’t move a finger to stop her.
She seems so breakable, but it doesn’t matter. No one will dare put a finger on her ever again, because now she has her own monster to watch over her.
“Still can’t believe you are married.” “Well, maybe you should try it.” He looks at the road in front of us for a few moments before answering. “I’ve already tried it. Didn’t end well.” I still. I had no idea Sergei was married. “What happened?” “I killed her.” He leans back in the seat and lights a cigarette. “Right after she tried to slice my neck.” “Shit, Sergei.”
