Page 60 of Captive Ruin

“I can undo it,” he gasps out. “Her artists are new… easily manipulated.”

So that’s what he did.

“Let me get this straight. You discovered Amelia was running an exhibition, and you scared off her artists?”

He looks at me like I’m insane. “It… hardly matters. It’s just—”

“You left her with nothing,” I say coldly. No wonder she was hurting so much. Not as much as Serranto is going to hurt, for what time he has left.

“It’s one fucking exhibition!” There’s not even any remorse in his voice. Just an attempt to save himself.

“And when is it?” Amelia said next week. She didn’t give me the day.

“You made your point, Lukas. Jesus… you’re fucking crazy. Let me go, and I’ll—”

“When. Is. It.”

“Wednesday, all right? Wednesday night.”

“Five days, counting today.” I clench my jaw. “You pulled it from under her with long enough for her to suffer, but not for her to fix it. You did that deliberately, didn’t you?”

“No, it… wasn’t like that.” He closes his mouth with a snap, glancing away.

“Oh?” I ask. “Explain, then.”

“It’s… as you said,” he mutters. “I… did it like that.”

I scoff. “You think this is the first time I’ve had a man bleeding beneath my blade? You think I can’t tell when you’re full of shit?”

“I did it on a whim,” he says. “She pissed me off. I just… reacted.”

Amelia told me enough that I’ve guessed the truth, but I still want to hear him say it. “That’s your second lie. Now, I’m going to cut a strip of skin off your arm.”

“No!”

I kick him over, face down onto the concrete, then drop a knee onto his back. He squirms beneath me, unable to do anything but wriggle with his hands tied. I take my time, cutting along the lines I’ve already made, straightening them, joining them. Sliding my blade under the skin and lifting, slowly peeling it away. It doesn’t come easily; it never does. It’s messy, bloody, and his screams don’t stop, each one echoing off the walls while the next comes. There are a lot of nerve endings beneath the skin.

“That was a four-inch strip,” I tell him when I’m done, wiping my blade on his back and standing up. He lies on the floor, sobbing. “You have thirty seconds to tell me all of it. If you lie again, the next strip will be eight inches.”

“Her sister,” he gasps out. “I blackmailed Lucy. I knew she’d do anything if I threatened Amelia’s gallery.” His tone turns bitter, even through his pain. “Lucy blocked me, but Amelia was behind it, I know she was.” He writhes on the floor, his anger rising. “All I want to do is make her helpless and dependent on me, then I can get Lucy back and you can have your fucking Amelia. I’ll be finished with her.”

“You know what I find amazing?” I ask, watching him flop around like a landed fish.

“What?” he spits out.

“How utterly stupid you are.”

He glares up at me.

“The fact that you think there’s still something to negotiate. That you won’t be dead in an hour.” I consider that for a moment. “Maybe two.”

“You’re bluffing, I know you are,” he insists. “You won’t kill me, not when the Volkovs will rain down hell on you.” A laugh, short and mirthless. “Don’t you get it, Lukas? I’m untouchable.”

I gesture with my karambit at his arm, where the blood flows freely. “Touched you.”

It’s not a good choice of words, because it reminds me of what else Amelia told me.

As if I could forget.