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"Let's start with an easy question," I say, my voice low and measured. "Where is your boss?"
The man remains stubbornly silent, his jaw clenched tight. I sigh, almost disappointed. I was hoping he'd make this easy.
Gripping the knife firmly, I press the tip against the side of his neck just hard enough to draw a bead of blood. The man flinches but still refuses to speak.
"You know, I'd hate to have to mar that pretty face of yours," I murmur, my gaze roaming over his features. "But I will if I have to."
I can feel Camila's eyes on me, and I chance a glance in her direction. Her expression is a mix of fear and disgust.
Refocusing on the task, I apply a bit more pressure with the knife, eliciting a sharp gasp from the captive. "Last chance," I growl. "Where. Is. Your. Boss?"
The man's eyes dart around the room, searching for a way out. But there's no escape, not for him, until he gives us what we need.
I grip Soulcarver tighter, the familiar weight of the blade comforting in my hand. I can't help but glance at Camila, seeing the horror etched across her face. Her wide eyes bore into me, pleading silently. But I can't fail this task.
Refocusing on the man in front of me, I press the tip of the knife deeper into his flesh. He lets out a strangled scream, the sound echoing through the warehouse. I savor the look of terror in his eyes, knowing I hold his fate in my hands.
"I won't ask you again," I growl, my voice low and menacing. "Where is your boss?"
The man whimpers, his resolve crumbling under the threat of my blade. "I-I can't... he'll kill me," he stammers.
I lean in closer, my mask concealing the wicked grin spreading across my face. "Then you better start talking because I can promise you, I'll make what your boss does to you look like a walk in the park."
With a flick of my wrist, I draw a thin line of crimson across the man's cheek. He cries out, the sound music to my ears. I press the knife deeper, drawing more blood. The man thrashes, his screams growing louder and more desperate. I relish in his pain, the adrenaline coursing through my veins.
"Last chance," I warn, my voice barely above a whisper. "Tell me what I want to know, or I'll make you wish you'd never been born."
The man's resolve finally crumbles, and he sputters out the location of his boss's safe house, which is at the docks in Chicago. I grin, satisfaction coursing through me. Glancing again at Camila, I see a mix of emotions flickering across her face - fear, revulsion, and something else I can't quite place.
As I turn to relay the information to Dimitry, I catch Elio's eye. His expression is unreadable, but I know he's not pleased with my methods. On the other hand, Dante seems unfazed, his gaze cool and calculating.
The task is complete, but I can't shake the feeling that this is only the beginning. The power of Nexus is intoxicating, and I'm eager to see what other opportunities it will bring. As for Camila, I can't help but wonder how she'll react to this side of me. Will she be repulsed, or will she be drawn to the darkness that lurks within?
38
CAMILA
Iopen my eyes, disoriented, as Ren lifts me from the sofa. My stomach drops as I’ve been keeping my distance from him ever since I witnessed him torture that man.
“Where are we going?” I ask, my voice thick with sleep.
“To my room,” Ren murmurs, his grip tightening around me. “It’s time we explored your penchant for pain a little more.”
A shiver runs down my spine at his words. I know I should feel afraid, but the memory of the initiation a few nights ago has left me craving this brutal man’s touch. Even after witnessing him slice a man up just to get some information out of him. As Renzo carries me down the hallway, I can’t help but press myself against him, my body already responding to his proximity.
He pauses at his door, shifting me in his arms so that he can push it open with his foot. The room is dark, except for the moonlight filtering through the window. He places me down on the bed, his eyes burning with an intensity that makes my heart race.
“Ren...” I start, but he silences me with a finger against my lips.
“Shh,” he murmurs, his other hand trailing down my side. “Just relax.”
I watch, transfixed, as he retrieves a length of rope from a drawer. His movements are sure and confident. Part of me wants to protest, to tell him I’m not ready for this, but the rest of me is eager to see what delights he has in store.
Ren approaches the bed, the rope coiled in his hands. “Hold out your wrists,” he commands.
I hesitate momentarily, then obey, allowing him to bind my hands together. The rope is smooth and unyielding, and I can’t help but tug at it experimentally, testing the limits of my restraints.
He chuckles, his fingers trailing along my arms. “That’s it, bookworm,” he murmurs. “Let me see how much you can take.”
