I’m actually impressed with his Irish accent; it almost sounds authentic.

He stands in front of me, his eyes gleaming with pure sadism. “Shall we, lad?”

The fucker is so engrossed in his role.

“I don’t usually waste time.” He taps the nail clippers on his hand. “I know people start with the least painful torture then go up, but I prefer hardcore stuff from the get-go. It’s more fun, innit, lads?”

The other two nod like idiots.

I glare up at him, and he hits me in the face with the device. “What are ye looking at, ye little fuck?”

I groan as pain explodes in my temple and hot liquid cascades down my face.

The fucker.

“Blood—yum.” He grins, and he’s definitely not faking it. The sick fuck does enjoy the sight of blood more than anything. “Let’s start with those pretty nails, eh?” He steps behind me and takes my hand in his. I tense, holding my breath. If he hurts my sniper arm, I’m going to bloody murder him.

“Oh wait.” He motions at one of the guards. “Pass me a knife, would ya? I want to cut his skin at the same time.”

The younger of the two, obviously eager to please, goes to the table, snatches a knife, and comes to our side. His entire attention is on me as he hands the sharp object to Flame.

That’s his mistake.

Flame jams the knife in the man’s jugular and slices. A bloody fountain splashes on my face and clothes. I close my eyes so it doesn’t get inside.

The bastard always goes for the most gruesome methods.

The other guard realizes the situation and yanks out his gun, but he’s by no means faster than Flame. My mentor gets his gun out first and shoots him in the forehead, killing him on the spot.

“Ah, pain in the arse.” Flame snatches the knife from the man’s throat. The victim grabs his neck, choking on his own blood, but to no avail. A few seconds later, he’s on the ground, drowning in a pool of crimson.

Flame uses the knife to cut the ropes. I spring to my feet and yank a gun from the bloodied man’s hand.

“Now, I got blood all over me.” He switches to his bored—and normal—English accent as he wipes his face with the back of his hand.

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have slit his fucking throat.”

“It’s more fun that way.”

Crazy fuck.

“Now what?” I head to the entrance. “Is there a clear exit?”

I need to get out of here before the Russians actually decide to save me. That would mean Rai would get involved, and there’s no way in hell I’ll let her near the bastard Rolan.

“Not really.” Flame clicks his gun. “We’ll have to get out the old-fashioned way.”

“Which is?”

He hits me upside the head. “Kill our way out, punk. Did playing house with the Russians make you lose your skills?”

“Piss off.” I narrow my eyes on him. “You were going to clip my nails.”

“He said screams.” He grins as he types in a code on the door, causing it to open. “You know I like those.”

“Fucker.”

“By the way, the beep of the door alerts all the other guards. They’ll be swarming us any second now. Ready?”

“Always.”

“Though, there should be backup coming up.”

“Who?”

He rolls his eyes. “Your beloved godfather.”

I don’t want him involved either, so I’ll just get out of here on my own.

We rush in different directions, but unlike what I expected, only two guards come by. We shoot both as we make our way up the stairs. “Where are they?”

“They should be around.” He studies our surroundings. “Unless Rolan has them.”

“Even better. Take me to him.”

“Bloody annoying.” He shakes his head, but leads me up the stairs to a lounge area.

I stop short at the scene in front of me.

Rai is here.

With Rolan.

Just like in the scene from my nightmare.

31

Rai

I did it.

I’m in the Irish’s club, which Rolan has a back office in.

It hasn’t been an individual effort. Thanks to Julian and his acquaintance with Kyle’s insider with the Irish, we were able to figure out the location.

While Sergei was completely against handing over territories, he said he’d turn a blind eye if I took his men and came here.

I had to beg Vlad to help, and it wasn’t easy since he doesn’t like Kyle. The growly mountain of a man only softened when I mentioned the baby and that I don’t want him to grow up fatherless.

Damien agreed to help because, in his words, “It should be fun.”

I asked Kirill for his intel help because he has the best spies. He was the hardest to crack, and only agreed when I gave him an oath in front of Sasha that no one except for the three of us will know of her true gender. Well, Kyle already knows somehow, but I’m not the one who told him.

Igor sent men, too, but Adrian has been MIA today. Even his closest guards couldn’t be reached. Something is wrong, and Vlad thinks it has to do with Adrian’s wife, Lia.

If—no, after I save Kyle, I’ll have to check on her and see if everything is fine.

Mikhail insisted on joining, even though no one invited him. It surprised the shit out of me when he showed up with his best guards. Instead of arguing, I left my disagreements with him aside. Those don’t matter right now.

Saving Kyle does.

Coming here with all these men with me didn’t calm my nerves. Not really, especially since Julian couldn’t get ahold of his guy for the last half hour.

Shooting our way inside the closed Irish club wasn’t too difficult. The guards were taken by surprise by our large numbers. Damien killed everyone in his path like a bull out to destroy the world.

Julian and Vlad accompany me as I take the stairs two at a time. I dressed for the occasion, putting on leggings and a T-shirt, then completing the outfit with running shoes.

A wave of adrenaline has been holding me prisoner ever since I decided I’d save Kyle even if it was the last thing I do. I feel like I can kill anyone in my path if I have to. I don’t care if I’m turning into a monster; they shouldn’t have messed with my light.