Destroyed(75)

I hated this part. The mind games. The constant mental torture. He knew how many family members I’d had because he made me kill them all.

“I had a mother. Vera Averin. She was a whore, a traitor, and a thief, and deserved to die. I had a father. Alex Averin. He was a womanizer, a cheater, and a liar, and deserved to die. I had a brother, Vasily Averin. He was the spawn of Satan, a heathen, and only evil lived inside him, and he deserved to die.”

The moment the vile lies were spoken, I hastily thought the truth. Silently, I undid the heinous things I said. Vera, my mother, was kind and generous. She didn’t deserve to die. Alex, my father, was a great provider and protector. He didn’t deserve to die. Vasily—

My heart ceased to beat as grief crippled me. Vasily, my brother, was a proficient artist, kind and smart. He didn’t deserve to die.

“Good. And did you know you had a sister?”

My gut churned, threatening an explosive reaction. A sister? No. No, please no. I couldn’t handle killing another sibling. A girl. An innocent, little girl whose only crime was to share my blood.

“You killed her, too. Don’t you remember?”

I blinked. White noise hissed in my ears, drowning out my panic. “Excellent, sir. I do not recall that mission.” Like so many others, I’d wiped them forever from my memory. I wasn’t surprised I couldn’t recall killing yet another sibling. I would rather pull my brain out through my ears than remember.

“Yes. Your mother was pregnant with a girl. A double murder and you didn’t even know.” The pat to the shoulder came with an electric shock. Every muscle seized as the current passed through my body.

“What do you say?” the handler asked, once he’d let me go.

My brain screamed, die you motherf*cker. My mouth said, “Thank you, sir.”

I returned to the present with a bang, stumbling as vertigo hit me hard.

Goddammit. I f*cking hated them. Hated. Hated. Hated. I wished I could stick a cattle prod in my brain and short circuit my entire system. The flashbacks were the worst they’d been in a long time—brought on by the stress of hurting a woman I cared deeply for.

Zel.

Her daughter.

I knew without a doubt the little girl standing in front of me was hers. There was no mistaking the long mahogany hair, the perfect cheekbones, the shape of her chin. The only difference was eye colour. Green had given way to soulful liquid brown eyes that looked right into my f*cking soul.

My breathing accelerated; my heart pumped like a demon. I backed away as fast as my legs could motor.

Don’t come near me. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t have more blood on my hands. Her blood. Zel’s little legacy.

Pebbles skidded beneath my shoes as I practically surfed on gravel in my terror to run. I needed to get far, far away from this miniature replica of Hazel. Before I hurt her.

Her dark eyes met mine, and I lost touch with reality.

“For the third and final time, kill him!”

“No!” Wetness splashed on my eighteen-year-old cheeks and it took a while to realize it was tears. I’d never cried before. Not even when I killed my mother and father. But this…I couldn’t do this.

“You made me take care of him! You brought him to stay with me. I thought you wanted me to train him to be like us!” My voice broke as I looked at my small nine-year-old brother, Vasily. His cheeks were still chubby with youth, his blue eyes wide with terror. A dark stain on the front of his jeans signalled fear had hijacked his bladder.

For three months, we’d slept in the same room, ate together, laughed together. I thought my handler rewarded me for good behaviour and given me a friend. Given me my brother to train and integrate into this new way of life.

I never suspected this.

“Roan. Pl—please help me. Don’t kill me. Please?” Vasily’s soprano voice brought fresh tears to my eyes; my body heaved, fighting against years of conditioning and the wrath of my handler.

“I. Won’t. Do. It,” I snapped, sucking in large gulps of air. I refused to kill my last blood relative. A boy I cared for more than anyone in the world.

“Yes, you will, Operative Fox. Otherwise we’ll torture him until he dies, then cripple you as you’re no longer viable property.”

I couldn’t stand anymore.

My handler grabbed Vasily by his neck, bringing him closer to me. “Do it.”

Vomit exploded from my mouth, splashing onto the concrete floor.

My brother stopped crying, squirming out of the handlers hold. Instead of running away from the man destined to murder him, he ran toward me and wrapped his bony arms tight around my waist.

“Mister? Hey, mister?” A tug on my cuff removed me from my horrible memories, slapping me into reality. “Are you okay?” The high, lyrical voice pierced my throbbing brain.

I charged back, breaking her hold on my shirt. “Don’t touch me.”

The little girl looked down and scuffed her shiny black shoes in the gravel. “Oh, sorry.” Her eyes met mine again, wide and worried. “Are you okay? You were mumbling things I couldn’t understand.” She cocked her head. “What language was that? My teacher said we should learn a language. I’d like to learn, but I don’t know what. Maybe I could learn what you just spoke.” She stepped forward, her little lips never stopping. “Can you teach me? I’d love to learn and mummy would be really proud of me. Would you teach me, please?” Her eyelashes flurried and my f*cking heart shattered into pieces.