Volkov’s eyes flicked briefly toward Marco’s ruined knee.
“I want that leg disabled.”
Igor bowed once.
“Understood.”
Volkov adjusted the cuffs of his jacket as if he had just finished a minor inconvenience.
He turned and began walking toward the stairs.
Marco groaned behind him, breath shaking, blood soaking through his pant leg.
Volkov reached the bottom step—
Then stopped.
For a moment he stood there, perfectly still.
Then he glanced back over his shoulder.
“You know,” he said thoughtfully, “I am still not convinced you actually have the courage to do what you claim.”
His gaze drifted over Marco’s trembling form.
“But I must admit,” he continued, voice cool, “I admire your confidence.”
Marco tried to speak, but only a broken wheeze escaped him.
Volkov’s eyes hardened.
“Yo
