Chapter Seventy Six.

Chapter Seventy Six.
The room was dim and cold, its silence interrupted only by the low hum of a single overhead bulb swinging faintly, casting harsh light directly on the man tied to the chair in the center.

His head was hooded, his hands bound behind his back, legs strapped tightly to the metal frame.

Viktor stepped inside slowly. His eyes fixed on the motionless figure beneath the hood.

The room was lined with a few of his men, all silent, alert.

In the far corner, Mikhail stood with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable but his gaze sharp.

Viktor stopped a few feet away from the chair. He didn’t speak, he just flicked his fingers once.

One of his men moved without hesitation, stalking to the chair and yanking off the black hood in one swift motion.

The man beneath, instinctively squeezed his eyes shut at the sudden glare of light.

His chest was heaving with quick, panicked breaths.

He looked disoriented, drenched in sweat despite the chill of the room. Slowly, as his eyes adjusted, he scanned the room.

His gaze landed on the men flanking him... then to Mikhail, whose stare was devoid of sympathy... and finally, to the man now standing directly in front of him.

Viktor...

The recognition flickered in Yuri’s eyes before a crooked, defiant smirk twisted his bruised lips.

“Long time no see, Don..” he rasped..

Viktor’s face didn’t shift. His tone was dead calm. “You’re good at running,” he said, stepping forward, his voice echoing faintly in the concrete room, “but you’ve never been good at hiding.”

Yuri chuckled softly, blood smeared at the corner of his mouth. “And you’ve always been good at sniffing around places you shouldn’t.”

Viktor crouched slightly so they were face to face. His eyes were sharp, cutting through the bravado in Yuri’s gaze.

“The earlier you give me what I want,” he said, voice low and grim, “the quicker I end this for you.”

A muscle twitched in Yuri’s jaw.

Viktor stood straight again. “Where is Alexei?”

Silence.

Yuri’s face tightened. “How the fuck would I know?” he snapped, but the edge in his voice was laced with panic now.

Viktor simply tilted his head, studying him like a puzzle that bored him.

Then, calmly, he licked the inside of his cheek and looked over his shoulder.

“Always the hard way with you, isn’t it?” he murmured.

He gave a slight nod.

Two of his men wordlessly slipped out of the room.

The door groaned open and shut behind them. Yuri turned his head, watching them go, and for the first time, a hint of fear slipped into his features.

Viktor said nothing. He just stood there, staring, his hands in his coat pockets.

A minute later, the door opened again. The men returned, carrying a heavy object wrapped in black cloth. They placed it gently on the metal table beside the chair.

Yuri's eyes darted to it.

Viktor moved slowly to the table. With deliberate ease, he began unwrapping the cloth, revealing a collection of gleaming tools, not just weapons, but instruments of pain.

A long, curved blade. A rusted plier. A small blowtorch. Wire.

The room seemed to grow even quieter, as if it were holding its breath.

“I gave you the chance,” Viktor said, almost casually as he picked up a butcher-like knife, weighing it in his hand with eerie calm. “A short conversation. A clean exit. Maybe even your body delivered in one piece.”

He looked over his shoulder, locking eyes with Yuri.

“But no. You chose pain.”

Yuri’s hands were beginning to tremble behind him.

Viktor turned fully now, the blade glinting in the light.

Viktor walked back toward Yuri, his steps deliberate, eyes locked on the man’s bound hands tied tight to the arms of the chair.

He tilted his head.

"Bring his fingers forward," he instructed to his men, they moved forward and roughly loosen his arm from behind and now placed them on the chair arms,and tightened it back.

“Let’s start with the truth, shall we?” he said smoothly, and crouched beside Yuri, tapping the blunt side of the knife gently against his thigh. “Tell me where he is… or I’ll carve the answers out piece by piece.”

Yuri's breath hitched.

“I’m thinking… we start with your fingers,” Viktor murmured, voice eerily calm. “That doesn’t sound too bad, does it?”

Yuri swallowed hard, the color draining from his face.

Viktor’s voice turned colder. “Now, I’ll ask again. Where is Alexei?”

“I— I swear, I don’t know where ALEXEI IS!” Yuri yelled, his voice cracking in fear and defiance.

“Wrong answer.”

Without hesitation, Viktor raised the butcher-like blade and, with one clean swing, severed Yuri’s pinky finger. The sound of metal meeting flesh echoed off the walls, then came the scream.

“AHHHH— FUCK! AHH!” Yuri’s head fell back, a raw, animalistic cry tearing from his throat.

Blood pulsed from the stump, splattering the floor beneath the chair.

His chest rose and fell violently as he gasped for breath, eyes wide in disbelief, staring at his hand.

One of Viktor’s men casually bent down, picked up the finger, and set it gently on a steel plate nearby, like it was a damn appetizer.

Viktor’s face didn’t move. No remorse. No shift in tone. Just the same dead calm as he repeated, even slower this time:

“Where. Is. Alexei?”

Yuri wheezed, shoulders trembling, sweat beading on his forehead. His mouth opened but nothing came out, until another swing sliced through his ring finger.

His scream was louder this time. Desperate. Pure agony.

Another finger, another drop onto the plate.

“P-please,” he stammered, voice hoarse. “I—I don’t know...I’m sorry...I swear...Alexei… he kidnapped someone… someone precious to me…”

His eyes rolled as the pain surged through him, his entire body shaking. His face contorted,he looked like a man on the brink of losing consciousness.

But Viktor? He just stared, unimpressed. Cold. Silent.

“Where. Is. Alexei?”

There was a beat. Yuri didn’t answer.

Viktor raised the knife again.

“WAIT! WAIT—!” Yuri cried, nearly choking on his own breath.

Viktor paused, arm mid-air, eyes narrowing like a wolf circling wounded prey.

“He’s… he’s hiding in the mountains… Krasnaya Polyana,” Yuri panted, blood running down his fingers.

“He turned one of the old ski resorts into a fortress. It’s a fucking bunker now. Armed to the teeth. No one gets in without permission, anyone who tries gets sniped on sight.”

Viktor’s gaze flicked sideways to Mikhail, who gave a silent nod. Confirmation received.

Viktor turned back to Yuri, his lips curling slightly, not a smile.

A smirk of dark satisfaction.

“Hiding deep in the northern woods like a coward,” he muttered.

Yuri raised his head weakly, eyes glistening. “Please… he has someone… someone important to me. You have to understand—”

“You should be worried about whether you’ll leave this room,” Viktor cut in, wiping the blood from his fingers with a cloth handed to him. “And you’re a damn fool to ever trust a man like Alexei.”

He tossed the bloodied cloth aside.

Then, to his men: “Leave him begging for death.”

And with that, he turned on his heel, walking out without another glance. Mikhail followed closely behind.