I reach his desk before he can pull the trigger a fourth time.
"Has your aim started deteriorating along with the rest of you?" I ask.
He swings the hot barrel toward my chest. Slapping the gun hard from his grip, I send the weapon skittering across the concrete floor. He stumbles into the desk, knocking the wine glass over to spill dark red liquid across the metal surface.
I grab his collar with both fists, jerking him forward to head-butt him square in the face. The sickening crunch of bone echoes off the concrete walls. His head whips backward as his kneesbuckle, and he slides down the edge of the desk with thick blood pouring from his ruined nose.
Throwing him flat on his back, I drop my full weight right on top of him. I dig my knees into his ribs to trap him - pinning both of his wrists above his head with my left hand while my right hand readies the combat knife.
"Talk," I demand.
"Fuck you."
Driving the knife deep into his left shoulder, I push the blade slowly. It tears through tight muscle and grinds against his collarbone. He screams in agony, and I pull the bloody blade free.
"Give me your trade routes," I say. "Tell me about every corridor you built."
"I'll tell you nothing."
I stab him again, targeting the same shoulder to slide the steel in half an inch from the first wound. He shrieks.
"Give me your sabotage plans."
"Kill me. Just…"
Stabbing him again, I sink the blade deep into the destroyed shoulder to spray fresh blood across the floor. I pull it out and stab him again. And again. And again. His left shoulder turns into a butchered ruin. He sobs heavy tears between his screams.
Raising the knife for another strike, I pause.
Addison Rae starts playing loudly from my tactical vest pocket. The chorus to "Diet Pepsi" rings out bright and bouncy in the bloody room. Levan chokes on his own screams, falling into a stunned silence. I look at the bloody knife, glance down at my ringing pocket, and then stare right into Levan's terrified eyes.
"Shh," I whisper. Pressing one blood-soaked finger against his pale lips, I lean closer. "My wife is calling. So you better shutup. If she hears anything that upsets her, I'll do things to you that haven't even been invented yet."
Pulling the knife free from his ruined shoulder, I watch him gasp in pain but hold the scream behind his clenched teeth. I wipe the wet blade clean on his dress shirt and sheath the weapon at my side. Pulling the ringing phone from my pocket with blood-slicked fingers, I answer.
"Hello,Vedma."
"Alexei, thank God." Her voice comes through the speaker, frustrated and out of breath. "I need your help - the TV logged me out, and I can't figure out the damn password. It's driving me crazy."
"It'sVedmaMoya," I tell her. I keep my tone entirely even while my knee grinds down into Levan's broken ribs. "Capital V, capital M, and then eight-one-four."
A brief beat of silence passes on the line. I hear the clicking of the remote.
"Wait," she murmurs. "Did you make the security password about me?"
"Every password I have is about you."
"It worked. Oh, thank God."
"What are you up to right now?" I ask.
"Just finishing some work." She replies as I hear her sit on the couch.
"When are you coming home? I found a movie I want us to watch."
"Give me a couple of hours. I'll be quick."
"Okay. Wait - on your way back, can you get me a chicken pizza? And Alexei, you have to make sure they don't put onions or pineapple on it, or I swear to God I'll lose it."