“Fuck you,” Salome spits, the words wet with spite.
I let out a genuine laugh, the sound bright and jarring in the hollow space. “You want me to fuck you?.” All I can think about is Zoya last night—riding my face like she was trying to suffocate me, grinding that perfect pussy against my tongue until she squirted all over my chin. Then begging me to fuck her ass while she touched herself, coming so hard around my cock she nearly passed out. I shake my head, laughing. God damn, my wife must be heroin or something because I can’t think about anyone else.
I shake my head, grinning like a madman. “I’m already mainlining the best drug in Moscow every night. She’s fucking heroin. So no, sweetheart, you’re not even close to competition.” I let a slow smile spread across my face. “But points for trying. It’s a remarkably bold move considering the precarious nature of your current situation.”
Her face flushes a deep, humiliated red, rage simmering just beneath the surface of her skin. I ignore her for a moment, walking over to a large, jagged rock that sits on the concrete floor like a tombstone. It’s a rough, gray thing about the size of a football, and I pick it up with a grunt of effort before placing it directly in the center of the room.
“Do you know what happened in Portugal?” I ask, not looking at her yet. When she remains silent, I continue as I study the stone. “My wife and I were attacked by five men who intended to rape her and kill me. During the struggle, my wife kicked one of them in the head with her wedge heel - she hurt her foot quite badly defending me.”
Salome stares down at the rock, her breathing beginning to hitch.
“You’re going to kick this stone,” I tell her, my voice dropping to a flat, conversational tone. “You’ll do it repeatedly until your foot is broken, exactly as my wife’s could have been.”
“What? No…”
“Oksana.”
The movement is a blur; Oksana lunges forward and seizes Davit by the throat, hoisting him off the ground until his small feet dangle uselessly. The boy begins to choke, his tiny hands clawing frantically at Oksana’s iron grip.
“No! Stop!” Salome thrashes against her restraints, her voice rising to a panicked shriek. “Don’t hurt him! Please!”
“Then kick the damn rock.”
“Yes! Okay! Just let him go!”
Oksana releases the boy, and he collapses onto the floor in a heap, gasping for air while Nadia steps in to cut the zip-ties. Salome slumps forward, rubbing her raw wrists and wincing in the sudden freedom.
“Stand up,” I command. She rises unsteadily, her legs trembling as she positions herself over the stone. “Kick the rock.And with every strike, you are going to scream: ‘I’m sorry your beautiful wife got hurt.’ I want it loud enough for even passersby to hear.”
“That’s insane…”
Oksana takes a menacing step toward the boy again, and Salome instantly recoils. “No! Wait! I’ll do it.” She pulls her leg back and swings, but the impact is weak, and the rock barely shifts.
“Harder,” I prod. “And say the words.”
She kicks again, a dull thud echoing through the room. “I’m sorry your beautiful wife got hurt!”
“Again.”
The cycle begins in earnest then - the rhythmic sound of flesh meeting stone followed by her cracking voice. With every strike, the desperation grows until her toes begin to crunch against the unyielding gray surface, and crimson smears mark the concrete. When something finally snaps in her foot with a sickening pop, she collapses to the floor, howling.
“Get up,” I say, unmoved.
“I can’t! It’s broken!”
“Get. Up.”
She struggles back to her feet, screaming as she puts weight on the ruined limb, and crawls back to the stone to deliver one final, agonizing blow. She’s sobbing so violently she can barely draw breath, her foot now bent at an unnatural angle with bone visible through the torn skin.
“Enough,” I finally say.
As she collapses into a broken heap, I crouch down beside her and speak softly into her ear. “I don’t hit women, Salome. But I have plenty of people who do.”
I stand and look at Oksana, gesturing toward the chair. “Tie her back up and give her the phone. She needs to call her husband.”
They drag her back into position, and as Nadia dials the number, Oksana holds the burner phone to Salome’s ear. It rings twice before Tornike’s worried voice breaks through the line.
“Salome?”