Alek

Chapter 9: Alek Russo

Chapter 9: Alek Russo

It's fun to play with fire until it touches your skin.

And burns.

The first few lessons my father ever taught me growing up was to hold on to hatred and turn it into something else.

And that's exactly what I'm fucking doing.

As I lead Mae Kazimi down the staircase to the basement, I can't help but wonder what she's thinking. Is she scared? Does she want to run?

What I don't understand is why my father would appoint a random girl like Mae as my partner in finding the mole. She has had zero connections with the mafia until now unless you count that day my brother died three years ago.

I hear her exhale loudly behind me and I can't help but say, "Scared?"

"You wish."

I smile in the darkness, each step bringing us closer and closer to the men locked up in the cells below.

I stop before a locked door, a key in my hands. It's so silent that I can hear her breathing behind me, standing so close to my body and all I can think about is her finger on the trigger. And suddenly I want to rip my gun out and press it to her head.

Instead, I swing the door open and walk in first, flicking the low yellow light bulb in the center of the ceiling above on. It flickers once, then twice, before lighting up the entire room with it's pale light and the man sitting in the center of the room tied to a chair begins to look up, blinking at the brightness.

Good. He's awake.

"Mae, meet an acquaintance of mine, Roberto," I say, slipping the key into my pocket and cracking my knuckles. "He's the one who invited our little correspondent to his so-called 'friends only' party."

"Hm," is her response.

I flick my eyes up to look at her from where I stand behind Roberto, waiting. Her brown eyes travel down the length of the man's body as if taking in his wounds before her eyes land on his face. I wait, watching her.

A mistake.

Her beautiful brown skin glows in the yellow light and she looks like she is glowing.

A fire goddess.

She shakes black hair out of her face, crossing her arms over her blacktop. I shamelessly rake my eyes down to her black pants and leather boots, eyes wavering ever so slightly on her legs before flicking them back up to meet her steely eyes.

She caught me looking.

I shoot her a smirk, placing my hands on the back of Roberto's chair, watching in satisfaction as he flinches.

"Some important things to remember when you're torturing someone," I say, walking towards a table in the corner that is laden with a few blades and other things. "Number one, eye contact."

Mae is silent. I want to laugh. My father has made a mistake sending me to an inexperienced little girl who has probably never tortured anyone let alone watched them bleed out by her own hands.

"Number two, technique matters," I pick up a long thin knife and weigh it in my hands.

Silence except for Roberto's heavy breathing.

"And number three," I turn around to Mae, making my way towards her, "Make it hurt."

She swallows thickly, taking a step back towards the wall and I fight back a laugh.

Pathetic.

"Repeat," I order.

"Eye contact," she obeys, and I use my index finger to lift her chin until her eyes are meeting mine.