SAVIN' ME (A Bratva AU)

Chapter 6

My dearies!

Sorry about the delay, but here it is the next chapter. Remember that on the previous one I said I wasn't too happy about it, right? Well... now I say I LOVE this one. I did once I change the POV in the first scene. Believe, I tried to make it on Oliver's, and then Slade's. Both attempts were disastrous.

Anyway... to celebrate tonight's season finale, I'm giving you this chapter where Oliver is very opposite to what he is on the show right now. My version of him here is getting darker and darker. Oh boy! Forget in-the-light Oliver, you won't find him here.

If I'm honest, I kinda love him like this. That's why I'm sooooo excited to see next season's flashbacks. Finally we'll see Bratva!Oliver. Yaaaaasss!!! I've been waiting that day since the beginning of season 1.

But I'm babbling, so I'll let you read, and then at the end of the chapter, we'll talk more.

Enjoy the reading!!!

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CHAPTER 6 

The pain and humiliation that Frederik Voikevich was feeling, laying on the floor of what many considered was the direct gate to Hell, was the proof of how an idiot he had been. Greed and hunger for power blindsided him, to the point to think he was capable of playing the Pakhan as a fool. And when Anatoli summoned him to meet in secret, he honestly thought that he was beyond all suspicion. Shame on him not to foresee the fate waiting for him. He should have known better. No treason to Brotherhood went unpunished.

When he arrived to the rendezvous point, he realized he was the one who had been played. He fell into a trap. His instinct bellowed for him to run... to fight his way out to freedom. But any resistance on his part was futile. Faster than he could even think, he was subdued and taken to where he knew he never would come out alive. Yet, death would come slow and painful.

He was a lump of broken bones and bleeding wounds on the floor of a pungent, cold, and dark cell. Every breath he took was an act of renewed agony. No doubt that all his ribs were broken. Yet, the lasting effect of the tortures to which he was subjected to had him trying to decide which pain was worse. The several stabs on his thighs and abdomen weren't immediate life-threatening, just painful and incapacitating. The burns in his skin, alone, wouldn't be any other than a bother. But adding it to the rest of his mistreatment, it took a toll on his waning energy. It was why he was grateful for the numbness of his hands, bound tight at his back. A pain less he had to worry about. Restraining him like that was a precaution that his interrogator had taken, but he knew it was pointless. With all his fingers broken, little he could do with his hands.

Not that escaping from the room was any easy in perfect health conditions, less alone injured. His first obstacle would be to pass the solid and impenetrable iron door with no knob on the inside. Then, he knew that on the other side, a half of dozen of armed men was waiting for him, if he dared to break out. The second he put a foot outside the cell, a rain of bullets would turn him into a human Swiss cheese. If he was honest, he was tempted. It would end his agony, but the only thing that stopped him to commit suicide by lead poisoning was the certainty that, once he was dead, his family would be the next target. The deal he made would be voided.

His not-so-voluntarily cooperation was the only thing that kept them safe. He endured as much as he could, but absolutely nobody can go through torture forever. So, when he realized he was about to break, and his dismissal would follow soon after, he negotiated. There was no other way for the lives of his wife, Katria, and their son, Igor, to be pardoned. It was the deal he made; he sang everything he knew in exchange for their safety.