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His eyes turned dark. Son of a bitch had the audacity to be angry. He was lucky I’d taken some medication before coming here. Otherwise I would’ve just killed him then and there. But no. This had to last. I had to make him suffer, to make him regret his whole existence.
“Ah, right.” I clicked my tongue. “You can’t speak.”
Roughly, I ripped the tape off his mouth, ignoring his hissing.
His teeth clenched, and, if looks could kill, I would’ve been dead the moment he woke up.
“Release me, you son of a bitch.”
I raised my eyebrows in amusement. “How funny. You think you have any chances of a bargain here?”
David swallowed harshly. His gaze never wavered. If anything, he seemed to be trying to suppress the anger that had made its way onto the surface. His nostrils flared, and the sound of his breathing pissed me the fuck off.
“If you agree to let me go—” He paused to cough. Fucking asshole contaminated the air around me as if he had any right to do so. “I’ll tell you everything Bogdan is planning.”
“And I’m supposed to simply take your word for it? You do realize I’m not a complete moron, right?”
His response was immediate. “You can keep me here until you confirm it. Just let me live.”
I straightened my back, and a loud crack followed. “What makes you think I make deals with the likes of you?” I got closer to him and bent down to his level, never breaking eye contact. “You will tell me either way, but I’ll still get to have my fun with you.”
“I would rather bite off my tongue than ever tell you anything,” he seethed. Loudly, David growled. It was supposed to intimidate me, but he’d clearly forgotten the position he was in. He’d switched from begging to not wanting to utter a word in a millisecond.
I sighed in disappointment. I’d hoped he would talk and then I’d get to have my fun; however, it seemed that I’d have to do it simultaneously. With a sigh, I waltzed over to the small desk. I picked one of each blade. The regular one was sharp enough to pierce through skin with the faintest bit of pressure. And the platinum knife, that was there to cause him a slight amount of pain.
Though it might not be so slight after all. It was coated in acid, and it was bound to burn like a bitch.
“Now.” I returned to stand before him. “I’ll start off easy. Bogdan’s whereabouts and his plans.”
Ten seconds was plenty of time for him to decide whether or not he would speak. At this point, I was still asking nicely but had no issue with turning things ugly. He had a faint smirk on his face that irritated the shit out of me.
“Still a loyal bitch?” I grinned right back at the motherfucker. “Don’t you worry. By the time I’m done with you, you’ll tell me everything I want to know. Even things that I never asked.”
I decided to start with the acidic knife. I pondered where to cut and how deep it should be. Then, I closed my eyes and allowed my instincts to take over. Swiftly, I approached him with the knife and began slicing.
The effect was immediate. David screamed out in agony. The more pressure I put on the blade, the more he was tossing, trying to free himself. However, my movements followed his, so it had the opposite effect. Whenever he moved, the cut would get bigger, deeper, and more painful.
I slashed a few times, and his right arm was the first target. Blood ran down his hand, and droplets fell on the floor. Felix was smart to cover the floor, too. It was much easier to clean up.
“Fuck,” he yelled out. It was futile trying to free himself, especially since his hands were bound to the armrests of the chair. Unless he had superhuman powers, he couldn’t get out of the restraints.
“Fuck indeed.”
His eyes were glued to the unused blade. The sharp edges, the pointy tip—all of it terrified him. Sweat dripped down his face, though he was still not speaking.
“What are you doing?”
I didn’t look at him. The silence seemed to slowly make him truly aware of what was going to happen. Nothing but a sinister smile was on my face. Excitement rushed through my veins. David squirmed as I inspected the sharp object in my hand.
“Ilya, can you help me?”
He raised an eyebrow, amusement lacing his eyes. Nonetheless, he walked up to me, remained silent, and waited for an instruction. Not once did he glance at the prisoner, and that made David nervous.
“Get rid of his shirt.”
With an exaggerated breath, Ilya whisked out a pocket knife from the back of his pants. David’s body was shaking, despite his best attempt at hiding it. His eyes were begging Ilya to set him free, but he was met with a blank stare in response.
He was barking up the wrong tree.
