Ila sat in silence, watching as Kozlov finally faced his reckoning.
A sharp, wet c***k echoed in the dimly lit room. Kozlov's scream tore through the air, raw and animalistic. Blood splattered across the cold concrete as the strike carved a fresh wound across his chest, slashing downward, splitting skin, muscle, and dignity. The next lash landed lower. A cruel merciless strike. His body curled into itself, convulsing with agony, his cries bordering on inhuman.
Grace had only been at it for two minutes, and gone was the arrogance. The defiance. The belief that he was untouchable.
Ila knew her team's code: when they killed, they did so without emotion. A clean shot. A swift blade. But Kozlov and his son were never going to be granted that mercy. Monsters like them didn't deserve a quick d
