That was no way to wake up in the middle of the night. Getting punched in the face is miserable anyway, but when that's your alarm clock, well, let's just say it was unexpected at the least.

Toby cried out, clapping a hand over his nose, his eyes streaming as he squinted through the darkness, trying to identify his attacker. It was no use. A cloth bag was thrown over his head as someone much stronger than he was rolled him to his chest and placed their knee in his back. He tried to struggle, to fend off his assailant, but it was no use. Strong hands gripped his wrists, twisting his arms back painfully, and he felt cordage being wrapped tightly around them, binding his hands behind his back.

"Who are you?" Toby shouted and received another slug to the face as his answer. But he thought he knew the answer already.

The strong hands gripped his arms and pulled him to a standing position, marching him forwards. Fear of being hit again prevented him from fighting with the person any further. Whoever it was never spoke a word as he walked on and on, finally feeling the cold winter air engulf him as he stumbled barefoot into the snow.

He heard the dull clunking of car doors and he was shoved, falling to his right side on something hard. He didn't fall far enough to hit the ground. Terror washed over him as he realized he was being stuffed in a trunk.

"No! No! No!" he screamed. CHUNK. Complete darkness swallowed him as the trunk lid closed. He felt the soft jostling of the car as someone sat in it and heard the engine purr to life.

He'd tried to run away from this. After giving a statement at the trial where he'd gotten the best revenge he could possibly conjure up, he'd realized what a horrible mistake he'd made. Betraying Yorgi like that was a death sentence. Fearing for his life, Toby had taken every cent he owned and ran for the safety of the city of St. Louis, renting a tiny apartment under a fake name and settling in, rarely opening his curtains or venturing from his new home. He'd covered his tracks well, but it apparently wasn't good enough. They'd found him and now he would have to answer for his betrayal.

The car bounced smoothly over the road and Toby supposed it would have lulled him to sleep, had the circumstances been different. He trembled at the thought of what was going to happen to him. He feared a beating, but decided taking his licks would be much better than a bullet in his brain. He prayed Kirill wasn't in the car.

He could taste the blood running down his throat from his broken nose and tears leaked from his eyes. What a fool he'd been – getting in with a crowd of people like this. As much as he wanted to be one of the tough guys, he simply wasn't. He was slender and baby-faced and lacked a taste for anything that could risk him getting hurt. No, he was much better suited for sitting behind a computer screen. He should've gone to school for computer programming or some such thing. Instead, he'd chosen to go for easy, quick money, hacking government databases for Yorgi. And he enjoyed it. There was nothing he couldn't crack, no secret network he couldn't gain access to. He prided himself on his talents and he had been a valuable asset to Anarchy 99 because of them. If only he hadn't made the simple mistake of placing the funds into the wrong account. It was their own account, the money wasn't gone, but they hadn't taken the time to figure that out before they had attacked him and told him to leave.

He'd been so angry that day. So very, very hurt. He wanted nothing more than to be part of Yorgi's inner circle. Sure, Yelena could handle business transactions, but she was no hacker. It was the one piece to the upper ranks that hadn't been filled yet. And he would have fit the part so perfectly. But one wrong step, and here he was, removed from the place he'd worked so hard to achieve. So blinded by disappointment he was that he had contacted Mr. Flynn's office and offered him inside information about Anarchy 99 to help the Johnson boys' case. It was the only thing he could think of to make them pay. He knew how much Yorgi valued Lindsey, how protective he'd become of her, and by slandering her character, he knew there was a good chance her attackers could get off. Nothing could hurt her more than that. He'd even gone so far as to sneak back into the warehouse repeatedly, watching her steps, waiting for her to make a wrong move that he could report back to Mr. Flynn. He'd lied to her the day he said Yorgi had forgiven him. He decided it was worth the risk to catch her shooting up. 'She shouldn't have kicked me,' he'd told himself at the time.

Now he wished beyond all wishing that he'd just walked away from the whole thing.

All too soon, the car rolled to a stop and he heard the doors open and slam shut. The trunk popped open, the freezing air washing over his body through the thin pajama pants and T-shirt he wore. He was pulled harshly from the car by his armpits and dropped face-first into the snow. He could hear rolling water to his left and wondered wildly if they were going to tie cinderblocks to his legs and toss him in.

He was pulled to a sitting position on his knees and the pillowcase was yanked from his head. He blinked his eyes in the low light and felt his insides turn to ice. There before him stood Yorgi with Viktor and Kirill on either side. Kolya held the pillowcase in one hand and the back of Toby's shirt in the other, looking down at him emotionlessly.

There was a light in Yorgi's eyes, a sick pleasure flickering there that was enjoying the look of terror on the young man's face.

"Yorgi, I'm sorry!" Toby pleaded.

Yorgi smiled widely at him, his right hand near his mouth holding a toothpick. He looked to Kirill on his right side and said something light-heartedly in Russian. The sniper gave a soft snort of laughter.

"Please," Toby said, "I was just angry! I didn't mean it! I am so sorry!"

Yorgi gave a sharp nod to Viktor, who stepped forward and slammed his big fist into the side of Toby's face. He felt a cracking, like his jaw had fractured, and tasted blood again. He felt something hard in his mouth and he spat into the snow, leaving red splatter marks on the ground as three of his teeth flew from his mouth. "Aw, shit," he whined pitifully.

Kolya's blue eyes were murderous as his boot caught Toby in the ribs.

Yorgi stood still as a statue as he watched his brother and his friend relentlessly beat the young hacker. Finally he barked the Russian word for "Enough." Viktor and Kolya ceased their attack immediately.

Toby fell to his side, bleeding profusely from his mouth and nose, tears sliding from his eyes. "Please, Yorgi, I'm sorry."

Yorgi stepped closer, his hands behind his back and bent at the waist, the toothpick held between his teeth. "You were not sorry the day you betrayed me," he said in a deathly quiet voice.

"I'll never do it again!" Toby cried. "I swear it! I swear!"

Yorgi smiled at him. "I know you won't."

A new wave of sobs racked Toby's chest. Yorgi stood up straight, his face returning to its normal expression of disinterest, and he stared down his nose at Toby. "No one betrays me." He threw a well-aimed kick at Toby's face, who screamed out in pain. "And no one hurts my Little Dove." He brought the heel of his boot down on Toby's head and Toby felt his eye socket crack.

Yorgi stared at him for a moment, before turning his back and walking slowly back to the car. "Do it," he said softly to Kirill.

Toby struggled to right himself as he looked in horror through his good eye at Kirill, who calmly and slowly withdrew a long, silver pistol from his belt.

"NO! NO, YORGI, PLEASE!" Toby screamed.

Kolya and Viktor fell into step behind Yorgi, following him to the car.

"I DON'T WANT TO DIE!" Toby bawled. "PLEASE, NO! NOOO!"

A booming crack rent the night air and then all was silent. Toby's body twitched involuntarily for a few moments as Kirill watched, then went still. He slid the pistol back into the waist of his pants and began to roll up the sleeve of his left arm as he walked back to the black sedan. Yorgi wrinkled his nose in disgust as Kirill pressed the burning end of his cigarette to the flesh of his arm, marking yet another kill.

"Throw him in the river," Yorgi said casually to Viktor and Kolya, who immediately went to retrieve the black plastic sheeting from the trunk. Yorgi slid into the front seat of the car, a small smile pulling at his lips.