Chapter 191
I still can’t stop beating myself up for being so harsh towards her, even though I still can’t understand what is happening to me.
Before I can think about it too much, I pull into the warehouse district, killing the headlights as I follow the pin location. Two large men stand by a metal door, and one of them recognizes my car and steps aside.
Inside, the warehouse smells like rust and…. And the man hanging from the ceiling, wrists tied, feet barely touching the ground, is breathing hard, blood sliding down his face.
Lilly is sitting on a crate, legs crossed, unimpressed, as if she’s waiting for her manicure appointment instead of interrogating a kidnapper.
“Finally,” she says.
I walk toward the prisoner. “Any idea on who he is p>
“No,” she says. “But he seems to know us… But then again, who in this country doesn’t know who we are p>
The man spits on the ground, his eyes reflecting nothing but arrogance.
I step closer, studying him… Dark hoodie. Mask shoved up to his hairline. A cut on his cheek. He smells like engine oil and sweat.
I glance at Lilly. “What does he want with Sierra p>
She shrugs. “Asked nicely. Asked not nicely. Asked very not nicely. He refused to speak p>
My eyes narrow. “Untie him p>
Her eyebrows lift. “Planning something p>
“Yes p>
One thing most people don’t know about us is that we were trained in the art of torture.
I know how that sounds insane and maybe a little fucked up, but that’s because they don’t know our uncle… Reaper. 4
Once upon a time he was King of the Underworld and I’m not talking about some petty street thug with a superiority complex. No, he ran everything. Guns, drugs, intelligence networks, torture rings, black–market assets. If it was illegal, Reaper had his hands all over it. His face was on Most Wanted lists across three continents.
Then Iris happened. He’s her biological uncle, and somewhere between her conception and falling in love with one of Mom’s closest friends, Reaper decided to clean up his act. He cleaned up his empire, legalized everything he could, and become part of the family.
But old habits die hard and Reaper’s idea of bonding time was teaching us every method of torture he’d perfected in his lifetime.
So yeah, by fifteen, I already knew a hundred different ways to make a man scream…and a hundred different ways to make sure he never screamed again.
Lilly signals her guy. They lower the man enough that I can grab him. His eyes widen when I grip his jaw.
“Listen carefully,” I say quietly, dangerously calm. “If you so much as breathe wrong, I will make ended up with the police an hour ago. Who sent you p>
you wish you
Silence.
“Who sent you?” I repeat, tightening my grip.
He jerks his face away, “Fuck you p>
My patience snaps because if there’s one thing Reaper drilled into our heads, it’s this: If someone touches what’s yours, you make them regret they were ever born.
Sierra may not be mine, but she’s under my protection. Which is close enough. 1
I slam him against the pillar. His breath punches out of him, and he groans in pain.
Lilly watches with mild interest. “Want gloves?” she asks. “Don’t want your fingerprints anywhere p>
“I don’t need gloves p>
The man struggles to stand, and how could he after the impact with the pillar?
“Bring him here, and tie him,” I demand, feeling my anger rising.
Lilly’s man drags the bastard into the center of the room and drops him onto the chair like a sack of rotten meat. They tie him, the ropes biting into his wrists. He’s shaking, but not enough, not nearly enough for what he tried to do.
“Talk p>
Nothing.
Lilly sighs. “He won’t talk. Broke two of Sam’s ribs trying to escape p>
I circle him slowly, letting him feel the weight of my silence. I’ve interrogated men before, but this one? This is personal.