Sordid (Sordid 1)

We trailed behind Vasilije down the stairs to the first floor, but he kept moving. It wasn’t until he reached for the basement door that Luka’s warm hand wrapped around my arm and jerked me to a stop.

“Wait a minute, what’s going on?” His voice was uncharacteristically tight. Luka was nervous?

Vasilije’s expression was stoic. “Dad’s downstairs.”

“No. We’re not going down there.”

His brother’s eyebrow rose. “Dad didn’t say shit about you. He needs to talk to her.”

“No,” Luka repeated, firm. He glared at his younger brother.

Vasilije’s face soured. “Jesus, calm down. I promise, he just wants to talk to her. And he wasn’t asking Addison to come down, he’s telling her.”

I’d never had a reason to go into the basement. It was unfinished storage, or so I’d been told, and I worried about discovering something down there I didn’t want to find. Luka’s tension confirmed my suspicion. Whatever was downstairs was related to the Markovics’ true business. But I needed to know, didn’t I? I nodded, signaling I’d go.

Luka seemed unsettled as he turned the doorknob and motioned for Vasilije to lead the way. He filed down the stairs next, taking my hand in his, so he could enter the basement first.

The stairs were bare wood, and the stone colored walls and poor lighting made the stairwell feel like a cave. It wasn’t much better when we reached the bottom. It was windowless. Pipes snaked overhead and the cement floor sloped gently toward a drain at the center of the room.

I could smell the metallic scent of blood before I spotted it.

Dimitrije Markovic stood in slacks and a white dress shirt with the sleeves haphazardly rolled back, and red spots dotted his bare forearms and shirt front. The blood came from the crumpled heap of a man lying on the floor. Nearby, a bloody metal baseball bat leaned upright against the wall.

My grip on Luka tightened as my body went on red alert. Had Dimitrije brought me down here to help this man, knowing I wanted to become a doctor? His gaze spotted me beside Luka, and in contrast to the first time I’d seen him, Luka’s father seemed pleased to see me beside his son.

The man on the floor groaned with agony, and Dimitrije glanced down. Disgust swept over his face. “Maybe I should burn you alive, like you did to this poor girl’s family.”

My knees threatened to give out.

Holy shit, was what Dimitrije said true? Was the man lying at his feet responsible for the fire? The police hadn’t found the source of ignition or any evidence, but ruled the fire as starting under suspicious circumstances. I’d had to lie when they’d questioned me, asking if I knew of anyone that could have been involved, and it was the only time Luka hadn’t been by my side when dealing with my family’s death.

“What you don’t realize,” Dimitrije said, continuing to talk to the puddle of flesh moaning on the ground, “is this girl is my son’s.” His powerful tone was absolute. “It makes her part of my family, and I put my family above anything else. You’ve started a fucking war.”

The man rolled onto his back and gazed up at the ceiling while he tried to pull his puffy, mangled face into a grotesque smile. “Good,” he croaked. He laughed, but it was cut short when he coughed and a mouthful of blood erupted from him.

“Ivan?” Luka asked. His gaze swung from the man up to find his father, who confirmed it with a grim nod. “Why?”

“Because it was an easy first strike,” Dimitrije answered. “They want us to retaliate. They thought we’d be too focused on that to notice they were moving a huge shipment over in Cicero.” His mouth lifted in an evil smile. “We let it happen. I had someone slip a welcoming present inside.”

Ivan coughed, giving a sharp noise of surprise.

Dimitrije put his foot in the injured man’s chest. “Who’s going to be there when that crate’s opened, huh? I heard the boss is in town.”

“Changes nothing,” Ivan choked out. “The Russians have more. More men and more guns. More power.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Dimitrije kicked him in the ribs, forcing him to roll away from the blow. He gurgled blood and drooled it on the cement. I shuffled backward. It wasn’t the sight of blood or Ivan’s traumatized face that made my stomach turn. I was unaccustomed to violence.

“Addison.” My name on Dimitrije’s lips was a command for attention I knew I had to obey, but it was nearly impossible. “I didn’t trust you when Luka brought you into my home, but you’ve proven your commitment to him. To my family.”

My blood moved as slush through my veins. It was becoming clear why Dimitrije wanted to speak to me.

“This piece of shit took your family, and I brought him here to give you retribution.”