Raw Bloody Power

Chapter 23

23

THE PIT

Rio

I’m still riding the high of my little tryst with Ivory when I make it down to the pit. Benedikt’s strapped to a dingy chair in the center of the cavernous space, arms behind his back, ankles tied to the legs. The chair itself sits where the old subway tracks used to be over sixty years ago, both entry points now sealed off by concrete with layers of sound proof insulation in between.

Many men have lost their lives in this room, the city above none the wiser to the hellscape full of torture beneath their feet. Cleavers, hacksaws, screwdrivers, restraints, you name it—it’s likely here.

“Apologies for the delay.” Jumping off the platform, I land mere feet from the bastard, plumes of dirt kicking up around us. “Had a little something I needed to take care of first. You understand, right? Great to finally meet you, by the way. ”

Benedikt eyes me with a deadly glare as I stalk closer. “Where’s Ivory?”

Thoroughly fucked and on her way home.

“Oh, she’s long gone. Caught an Uber, I believe.”

“If you hurt her, I swear to?—”

“Watch yourself, Koshka.” The now unholstered Glock digs into his forehead. “I wouldn’t start spouting off threats given your current predicament.” Flicking my gaze to the end of the room, I find Clarence perched on a stool by the tool bench, beefy arms crossed over his chest.

He curves a raven brow in question, prompting a tip of my chin toward the refrigerator. When I glance back down at Koshka, he’s no more rattled than he was ten seconds ago. We’ll change that here soon.

Guaranteed.

“Now that we’ve got that out of the way… As much as I commend you for having the balls to walk into my club after… well, after everything,” I press the steel tip further into his head, “I’m a bit disappointed at how reckless and dense of a move that was. I expected more tact from you.”

“I didn’t know it was your club,” he says, teeth clenched.

I observe him for a moment, searching for the snag in his facade. His striking blue eyes bore into me without falter, and wouldn’t you know, there’s nothing to be found. He’s serious.

Which means it was Ivory’s idea and he just went along with it.

Choking back a laugh, I holster the weapon with a shake of my head and amble around the chair. “Pro tip, Koshka…” Clapping his shoulders roughly, I give him a little shake down as I bend to his level. “You wanna pick a fight with a new enemy? Do your research first. Learn everything about them. Who they are, what they do, what makes them tick.” At my whistle to Clarence, the smack of the refrigerator opening bouncing off the walls.

The Russian prick doesn’t respond. Chin raised, he glowers at me through his peripheral.

You won’t be scowling soon, motherfucker.

“That said, I have a question for you.” Clarence closes in and hands me the ice-cold Coke bottle. I twist off the cap, flinging it somewhere behind me and mosey my way back in front of Benedikt. “Why me? What about me said ‘fuck with me’?”

He spares a quick, curious glance at the glass, then up to my face as he shrugs a shoulder. “You have what I want.”

“And that would be?”

“Control of the city.”

I could tell him that’s not true, that a certain someone’s family prevents me and mine from ruling with an iron fist, but revealing all my cards would be as idiotic as him showing up here. Allowing him to believe what he thinks to be the truth gives me an advantage. Whether or not he’s seeing her, dating her, fucking her—if he oversteps on their bounds, that’ll be their problem to deal with and one less thing for me to worry about.

“Understandable. Jersey does pale in comparison to NYC, huh? The armpit of America and all that.”

He doesn’t answer, not even a quirk of his lips, so I continue, vigorously shaking the soda bottle as I make my way behind him once more.

“Listen, I get it, you’re just starting out, wanna expand on what your daddy built and make it your own…but allow me to fill you in on where you fucked up, royally . You wanna rain hellfire on me and wage war? Cool, I’m game for a little excitement. Going after my kid brother, however, wrong move,” I snarl, whipping his head back against my stomach with a lightning quick hand as the tip of the bottle meets his nostril.

The very second I move my thumb, a torrent of cold carbonated sugar shoots up his nose. Benedikt roars and thrashes against me as it sprays out the other side like a geyser, traces of blood along with it.

Two.

Four.

Six.

Eight.

Ten. Ten seconds.

Probably feels like an eternity of agony to him, though.

Pleased with my handiwork, I finally relent after a beat, allowing him to catch his breath. A fizzy, crimson stream drips down his chin as he sputters and coughs wildly, his chest heaving. Releasing him with a shove, I stalk around him and drop onto my haunches, expecting to see much more than a mild sense of regret coloring his expression. Mild just won’t do.

Mild doesn’t ensure a lesson learned.

“A grown ass man going after a kid….” I tsk, my head tracking side to side. “Deplorable, for one. De finitely harebrained and repulsive. Have you no scruples, Koshka?”

“Got your attention, didn’t it?” he pants, that little statement tipping straight over the edge.

I’m towering above him seconds later, repeating the same vicious pattern. Shaking the bottle, holding him down, feeding off the soundtrack of torment reverberating through the room. Only this time, I don’t let up at the ten second mark. I wait until the fizz dies out completely and only a mostly emptied bottle remains.

More sputtering.

More coughing.

More blood.

A part of me wishes I would’ve waterboarded him instead.

The sharp clash of glass shattering rings out as I toss the bottle with thoughtless force and reach for the steel at my back, pressing the tip beneath Benedikt’s chin. “You go near my brother again or any of my family for that matter, and I will rip your teeth out— one by one. Matter of fact, I see you walking your pretty boy ass around my city and I’ll paint the streets red with your blood. Got it?” I growl, the deadly nuance saturating every word unmistakable.

Chest heaving, a bloody mess streaking down his neck, he nods.

Something tells me this is just the beginning, though.