“Help daddy?”
“Yes. If you do well at this game, I’ll let everyone go. Mommy, daddy, everyone. Would you like that?”
“Yes!”
“Good boy. Oksana, put the bag on his head first.”
She pulls a black bag over Tornike’s head and sticks a target marker - red and white rings with a bullseye - right where his forehead would be.
“See that circle, Davit? That’s the target, and you want to hit the middle, right there on the bullseye.”
"Okay," he says, nodding like a soldier.
I show him the three bullets in the cylinder and give it a spin. "If you hit the target, everyone goes home. Your mommy, your daddy, everyone. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
Tornike makes a muffled sound under the bag, a frantic, desperate noise that nobody listens to.
“Please… he’s seven years old…” Salome is sobbing. “He doesn’t understand…”
“That’s what makes this so fucking perfect,” I say, grinning. “He doesn’t understand. He thinks this is fun. He thinks he’s helping daddy. Meanwhile, daddy’s about to get a bullseye right between the eyes courtesy of his own son.” I spin the cylinder. “You know what? I’m doing this kid a favor. Normal childhoods are boring. But this? This is a villain origin story for the ages. Twenty years from now, he’s either going to be running his own empire or locked in a psych ward. Either way, epic.” I look at Davit. “Okay, buddy. Ready to play?”
I spin the cylinder, and the clicking sound fills the room. I position him, putting my hands over his to aim at the target.
“One... two... three. Squeeze.”
The hammer drops with a dry click.
“Oh, that’s okay! That happens sometimes. You get three tries, so let’s go again. You’re doing great.” I spin the cylinder again and help him steady his aim. “Ready? One, two, three, squeeze.”
Click. Empty again. Davit looks disappointed, his small shoulders slumping, so I spin it one last time and line the sights up perfectly with the bullseye.
“Alexei, stop!” Salome’s voice is hoarse, cracking as she screams. “Please! I’ll do anything!”
I ignore her and start the count. “One, two, three.”
Davit squeezes.
The room explodes with a deafening bang.
The gun fires, and the recoil jerks his hands back, but I hold him steady. The bullet goes straight through the bullseye. Tornike slumps forward, blood spreading across the black fabric.
Salome’s scream is inhuman, a raw, animal sound that rips through the air. She thrashes so violently that her chair tips, and she hits the concrete floor hard. Davit just stares at the gun with a confused expression.
“You did it!” I say, picking him up and spinning him around in a circle. “You hit the bullseye! Perfect shot! You’re amazing!”
“Did I help daddy?”
“You helped so much. You’re such a good boy.” I set him back on his feet and ruffle his hair. “Now go sit in your corner. The grown-ups need to talk.”
He walks back and pulls his knees to his chest. I walk over to Tornike and pull off the bag, revealing the hole perfectly centered in his forehead. “Huh. The kid's got good aim. Such a natural talent.”
I walk over to Salome, who is still tied to the fallen chair. I crouch down. “Your husband was loyal to Dato. I respect that, but loyalty has a price, and he just paid it.”
“I’ll kill you,” she whispers. “I swear to God, I’ll…”
“You won’t. Because you’re going to live. You and your son. You’re going to remember this moment every single day for the rest of your miserable fucking life. And you’re going to tell everyone what happens when you cross me. Understood?”
She stares blankly at me. I stand up and smooth out my jacket. “Pick her up and feed them. Start the boy’s training tomorrow. Dump the body where Dato will find it. I want it clear that this was personal.”