I stab him directly in the face, the long blade piercing his right cheek to punch all the way through his left cheek. Ripping the knife free, I drive it into his chest again. And again. His weak arms drop to the floor. His broken body stops fighting me. The violent convulsions slow down to mere twitches before fading into complete stillness.
Stopping my attack, I breathe hard in the quiet room. Fresh blood coats my knife hand all the way to the wrist. The notepad resting on his chest is soaked through, Zoya’s grocery list blurring beneath the dark red stains.
Peeling the notepad off his shirt, I tear the top list free. I fold the paper carefully and tuck the list into my vest pocket right beside her panties.
"Bring me the bag."
Pavel brings the heavy body bag over. My men wrestle Levan's form into the black fabric, shoving him feet-first to pin his legs, torso, and arms tight inside. The pooling blood makes the plastic slippery. By the time they zip the bag up to his chin, he's somehow still breathing. His eyes roll back, showing nothing but white and red.
Crouching down beside his head, I stare at his ruined face.
"Getting in the bag is the easy part, Levan. You should've cooperated earlier." I pat the dark plastic right over his chest, feeling the wet, soft places that should remain solid. "You said you wanted to die. I'm a man of my word. Consider this my final act of generosity."
His lips move to speak, but he produces no sound. Thick blood spills between his teeth.
"Head on down to hell and take a seat," I whisper. "Get comfortable. It's a long stay. All-inclusive with no checkout." Standing up to tower over him, I shake my head. "I'd love to chat more, but I have a grocery list to fill. My wife is waiting for pizza, custard pastries, and a specific fizzy peach drink in a glass bottle that has to come from one particular store."
Pressing the hot barrel of my gun against his forehead right through the black plastic, I hold it steady. "Enjoy the heat down there. I plan to visit eventually. But not for a very long time."
I pull the trigger.
The heavy bag muffles most of the gunshot. His body jerks one final time and goes completely still. That marks the permanent end of Levan Janelidze.
Holstering my gun, I take a step back.
"Zip it shut," I command. "Dispose of him along with the nephew upstairs. Burn both bodies to ash. Leave absolutely nothing left of them."
"Understood, Pakhan."
Walking out of the ruined panic room, I head back up the dark stairs.
Bohdan meets me outside at the armored SUV, pulling the rear door open for me. Sliding into the leather seat, I pull the folded grocery list from my pocket and hand the bloody paper to him.
"We need to stop at three different places. Pizza first. Then the 24-hour market on Kirov for the drink, the chips, and the massive tub of ice cream. Then we hit the bakery next door for the pastries. Custard and raspberry, but buy the raspberry only if they look fresh."
Bohdan stares down at the blood-stained paper. He looks back up to meet my eyes.
"Right away, Pakhan."
The heavy engine roars to life. The burning compound disappears in the rearview mirror behind us, the morning sky beginning to turn gray along the eastern horizon.
Pulling out my phone, I type a quick message.
On my way home. Pizza secured. I got everything on the list. Don’t start the movie without me, or I’ll be upset.
Read
Three typing dots bubble on the screen before her reply appears.
Vedma
I would never. Hurry up. I miss your stupid face.
Pocketing the phone, I lean my head back against the cool glass window and close my tired eyes. She'll probably eat the entire massive tub of ice cream and blame me for the missing food.
A soft smile touches my lips. I keep my eyes closed and let the dark streets of Moscow carry me home.
The car pulls up to the estate just as the sky starts turning a pale pink along the horizon. Bohdan opens the heavy door, and I step out onto the gravel with three plastic bags of groceries in my arms.