Page 25 of Taint My Soul

“We found footage of these two meeting up somewhere when they were supposed to be on duty at the docks. That was two days ago.” Virgil’s words skim out of him, bright and careless. A growl rumbles in my chest as I cross my arms, watching the two men squirm. Fucking pathetic. “Cargo was supposed to leave yesterday. An hour before midnight. Just before the same men they were speaking with raided the harbor. Got away with a box of our products.” Each word carries a playful edge, even though his tone’s gilded with white-hot rage.

“Is this traceable to the attack on our warehouse or any of our rivals?” I stare so deeply at the two bound men, and they shift as if my look burns.

“I’m not sure, but Cross will give us some answers soon.” Virgil’s lips twitch, a flash of amusement that looks more like a warning.

Bloodied footprints litter the ground beneath me as I move toward the stainless-steel tray on wheels holding tools that gleam under the dim light.

Wire cutters, blunt-force hammers, scalpels, zip ties, a bucket of ice water, a blowtorch, and syringes filled with clear liquid. I pick up the blowtorch and return to the two men.

Something primal stirs in the silence, turning the air heavy, expectant, and hungry. All I need is the truth. If they try to run in circles, I will make them bleed so they can understand exactly who they have crossed.

“Talk.” I grip Bex’s jaw, muscles flexing as I squeeze. He has more of an athletic build, while the other guy is bulky and short. I turn on the blowtorch. Blue fire coils out, its flames rolling across the room as heat shimmers. I bring it close enough until he can feel the white-hot of the flame. I won’t hesitate to melt his skin off.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” His eyes glisten, and he shakes his head, eyes flying wide, body trembling almost as if he’s about to concuss.

Oliver talks fast, stumbling over details, painting a picture of routine operation gone sideways, making excuses.

Don’t speak unless you’re spoken to. That’s my number one rule.

I pull my gun from my belt holster, holding an aim to his leg. The vibration of the recoil jolts through my arm as the bullet pierces his leg. Rods of veins bulge around his neck as his face pales, a terrifying shriek almost leaving him. He presses his lips tight to stop the scream. His blood splatters across the floor, and he looks up at me, eyes wide, breath shaking.

He knows the rules.

If he makes a sound, it will only get worse.

“You answer a question when I ask. Do you understand?” I bark.

“Yes, yes, sir.” He nods, tears streaking down his cheeks. I chuckle, somewhat amused that he’s shedding tears. He knew this situation would end like this. Why would he go out of his way to make it happen? Humans are fucking gullible. Predictable. Malleable.

“If you knew what loyalty is, you wouldn’t have crossed me.” His head shakes vigorously, and he trembles from the pain of the bullet wound. I put my gun back in the holster and look at Bex. “Who did you meet?”

“It was a mistake. We thought we could get some coke and sell it to get extra cash.” His shoulder curls inward.

“That’s a lie.” Virgil says behind me.

“I’m telling the truth. I promise. Please spare me.” He pleads, voice wavering just as he pees on himself.

Virgil barks out a laugh. “The asshat peed himself.” He’s still laughing.

“He did.” I bring the blowtorch and shove it into his mouth, and he screams when I turn it on, gurgling on his blood. As I pull back, he spits blood, and it gets on my shirt.

The sharp crack of my fist against his cheekbone echoes through the room, and blood spills from his bruised mouth. “Don’t get blood on me.” I grip his jaw tightly until it almost cracks. When I let him go, his head falls back, eyes blurry as he mutters gibberish.

Virgil’s phone rings, and he pulls it out of his pocket. “Yes?” He answers and waits a moment. “I’m on my way.”

“What is it?”

“We found a trespasser.”

“Go get him.” I cock my head toward the exit.

“Alright, brother,” he says as he saunters away. “And Virgil, bring them to me.”

“Right.” He bellows as he leaves, the ghost of his torture still lingering in the charged space.

“We are all alone now, and you can tell me your dirty secrets.” I pull my gun from my holster. I point it at Bex who’s choking on his blood and squeeze the trigger. He jerks back as the bullet pierces his skull, and blood splatters on the chair and the floor. His body goes limp as life drains out of him.

Maybe this will make Oliver speak.