Page 145 of The Fire We Make

“Take off their masks,” Ace ordered.

Von moved forward, snatching the ski mask from the first gunman. Ace’s eyes narrowed as a vaguely familiar face emerged. Von snatched the mask off of the second man and cursed.

“Fuck.”

Ace turned to him with silent question in his eyes. Von’s eyes never left the men before him as fury took over his features.

“They’re ours,” Von explained simply.

Ace looked down at the men again, studying their faces.

Sure enough, the longer he stared the more familiar they became, recognizing them from the visit he’d paid to the warehouse to speak to Curtis.

Ace locked eyes with the one in the middle.

“You know who I am?” he asked.

The man nodded in response, his eyes burning with hatred Ace couldn't place and fear.

Ace sniffed, running his tongue over the front of his teeth.

“Who sent you?”

The man remained silent, looking off to the opposite corner of the dank back room they’d been placed in.

In one swift motion, Ace pulled his gun from the waistband of his pants, aimed, and fired a shot between the man’s eyes. The loud bang made the men on either side of him jump and blood splatter onto both of them.

“I don’t have time to play the silent game,” he said, watching as the man to the right gagged.

He turned his gun on the one who remained stoic on the left, but instead of firing, whipped him across the face with it.

“Let’s try this again. Who sent you after me?”

Thirty minutes later, the man with the weak stomach laid in a crumpled heap beside the cooling corpse of his accomplice, barely breathing while Ace worked on the final hostage.

Blood splatter painted the front and sleeves of what was once a crisp white button down shirt. With brass knuckles looped over his fingers, he sent face and body shots to the traitor.

Ace hadn’t tied them up, allowing them to take him on alone and without any hindrances, giving the illusion of a chance of escape. The last man standing, just as the one before him, quickly learned that a fight with the Menace would never be fair.

While Ace broke skin and bones, Jrue stood across the room with his arms crossed over his chest.

“How he supposed to talk with a dislocated jaw?” Jrue asked with a chuckle.

Ace wiped the sweat and blood off his top lip with the back of his hand. “He’ll figure it out,” he said flatly, then crouched in front of the man. “Ain’t that right? Cause if I can’t get answers out of him I’mma get ‘em out of his brother T. And if T can’t tell me nothing, I’mma have to go see his baby moms,” he said, armed with information now that he’d identified the man who had once eaten from the King’s plate.

“Please—” the low level soldier whimpered.

“Please what?”

“Please,” he wheezed again through bloody teeth. “I’ll tell you what you want, man. Just… just leave my family alone. Please.”

“I’ll think about it.” Ace stood up. “Start talking.”

“Marco,” he gasped through his collapsing lung.

Ace folded his arms over his chest, unconcerned with the blood marring his clothes. “What about him?”

“W-we was just talking. Venting after Blue’s bail got denied. Marco showed up and said that he knew a way to fix all our issues but we had to take you out for him.”