Chapter Seven Creighton
Chapter Seven
Creighton
We were supposed to meet at the nightclub, but I changed our locations.
When I arrived, Lassiter was waiting outside of one of my warehouses for me.
He grew up with us, on our street, so we considered him one of us.
We being myself, Levi, and Blake. Lassiter never did.
He worked for me, but he was the one who reminded us (if we said anything) that he was not one of us. He was only a neighbor.
It was bullshit.
He was one of us.
His hands were in his pockets, and he was leaning against the warehouse wall.
He’d always been skinny, almost a petite physique, but in ripped skinny jeans, a white Henley with a black zipped sweatshirt pulled tight over his frame, he looked like he’d lost weight.
He didn’t have much to lose, but I knew not to comment.
He’d bristle and get pissed about it. Instead, I’d mention something to Levi, who would become a nagging mosquito in Lassiter’s ears, and he’d continuously bring food for him.
Lassiter had a pretty face. Blue eyes. High cheekbones.
A narrow chin that worked on him somehow.
He liked to keep multiple earrings in his ears, sometimes an eyebrow ring, sometimes a nose ring.
Tattoos went all the way up his neck. One was a giant black hand that surrounded the back of his neck.
He kept his dirty-blond hair similar to a Viking style, with two thick braids that ran from the side of his skull and to the back, falling loose.
Tonight he wore a dark-gray stocking hat, pulled low.
“I thought your agreement with Blake was to stay away from her?”
There was no judgment in his voice, but there was something else there. I couldn’t quite place it. “I have, as far as she’s aware.”
He snorted, shaking his head. “You’ve taken over the neighborhood surrounding her school. She’s going to find out, and she’s going to be pissed.”
I didn’t comment. There was no reason because yes, I had. Was I going to stop? No.
He laughed shortly under his breath. “You tasked me with looking for any incoming threat coming our way. We got a potential problem.” His hand came out of his pocket and tossed something my way.
Catching it in my hand, it was a USB drive. I held it up. “What’s on here?”
“Plans for a bill being introduced that’s going to allow new security measures such as AI and plans for a research study where they’re going to use drones for surveillance.”
Drones with artificial intelligence. This wasn’t good. I gave the USB a considering look. “Those drones are coming here.” It wasn’t a question. I already knew this was why Lassiter was even in town, otherwise he would’ve remained in Cincinnati, overlooking the city for me. “Who’s in charge?”
He indicated the USB. “It’s there.”
“Save me time and tell me yourself.”
A hard grin flickered over his face, but it didn’t match the rest of him. His eyes were dead. “You need to read the information for yourself. Tell me what you want me to do with it.”
A scream sounded from inside the warehouse.
Lassiter pushed off from the wall, glancing behind him at the warehouse because just on the other side of that wall someone was waiting for me. “I’ll keep a watch on the bill and the study, but what our tech guys are telling me is that it’s happening.”
A second scream came.
“Have fun with that. I’ll keep in touch.”
I watched him go. Change was inevitable. I was proof of that because of how I recruited and took over territories, but Lassiter was alarmed enough for him to make a visit in person. When a third scream sounded, I pocketed the USB and headed inside.
I had work to do.
Two of my men straightened upright when I stepped inside. They moved away from the man tied up, with his feet barely touching the floor from where a rope was holding him in place.
Ashton Walden.
His head hung down. Blood dripped out from one of his sides.
I gave a nod for my men to leave and began rolling up the sleeves of my own Henley.
I took hold of his hair and pulled his head up so he could see me, but also to surveil the damage already done to him.
One black eye. A split lip. His cheekbone looked smashed, but for torture, that was the prerequisite.
Even Ashton Walden himself would agree. A certain amount of maiming was necessary for a good torture session to be had.
“I was told on the way here that it was remarkably easy for them to take you. You really should always travel with your guards, Walden. Especially now when we’re at war.” My tone was chiding. Taunting.
He tried to glare at me through one of his eyes. The other remained shut. “Fuck you.”
I punched one of his good ribs and heard a crack. I flashed him a grin. “Satisfying, right?” I hit him again, and yep. A definite break. That rib was broken for sure.
He would’ve doubled over if he could’ve. Instead, he just tried to jerk away from me. A hoarse curse that was half of a scream ripped from his mouth. “I swear to Go—”
“Now, now.” I placed a finger against his mouth, hushing him.
He tried to bite my finger off, and I stepped back, grinning.
A different man would’ve been concerned about the emptiness he just saw in one of his employees’ eyes, someone who grew up with him.
He would’ve been disturbed by his own stalking tendency and his disregard to break into a home and violate it, walking through it to watch a certain woman sleep.
I wasn’t that man. But this, causing pain, I felt this emotion.
I fixed Ashton with a hard look. “You like torturing. Correct? That’s what my research says about you.
You like to enact the pain, while your counterpart is the planner, and I’m not talking about that woman of yours.
I’m referring to your best friend. Tristian West is the thinker.
He thinks long-term. You’re the doer, but that research is shortsighted.
Isn’t it? If it came down to it, if I really hurt someone Tristian West cared about, I bet he would enjoy enacting revenge.
Wouldn’t he? I wonder what I would need to do to enrage him enough? ”
Picking up a knife, I went to him.
He swallowed at the sight, his eyes skirting between the knife and my face. “He’ll gut you, you know. You won’t even see him coming.”
“Maybe.” I trailed the tip of the knife across his chest. “That’s a cute little fiancée you have. Molly Easter.”
He paled again, but my words invigorated him. He tried breaking free from his restraints. I caught his chair, holding him in place. He tried swinging out at me, but it was a futile attempt. He could’ve hurt himself in the process, but I didn’t see that stopping someone like Ashton Walden.
His head reared back up, and he snarled, “I’m going to fucking kill you, Lane. If you touch Molly—I swear to Go—”
He wasn’t hiding his emotions anymore. He was letting them out, and I was reveling in it. I wanted to see everything he felt inside. I wanted to understand the inner workings of this man.
I gave him a moment. That was the usual thing to do? Blake would’ve known. I was guessing here. I was doing my best. After a few minutes, I leaned forward and dropped my voice, “You probably need time to process your emotions. You’re upset. I can see that.”
I waited, letting him work out his aggression.
He was relaying how much he wanted to flay my face open while I was alive. That would be interesting to witness. There were a few other threats that intrigued me. He wanted to disembowel me. I wasn’t sure about that one, though. He kept sputtering away until he began coughing up blood.
I frowned. That would cut our fun in half.
I cut him off in mid-threat of putting my balls in a blender and how he would feed them to Blake when she was starving.
That—that made me pause because I wasn’t sure if I was mad at that threat or impressed.
I considered it and decided that if he did do that, he would have Blake to fear once she found out.
I was going to add that threat to his already mountain of debt.
“Walden, shut up. I’m here to tell you things, things you need to know before we finish.”
He drew quiet, coughing more blood.
My men had done more damage than I thought before I got here.
Others would wince at how he looked.
Not me. He looked like a masterpiece. He was bloodied, with different bodily liquids sticking to him. Bruises were coloring all over him. They were fresh, but the speed of how they were appearing promised me how beautiful he’d look by the end of our session together.
“What are you talking about?” he rasped out, more blood being coughed up, then trickling out of his mouth.
“You haven’t asked the basic question every captive asks.”
He frowned before giving that question thought. “Why the fuck am I here?”
I smiled. “See. Was that so hard?”
He looked at me as if I suddenly turned purple in front of him. “I’m here because you’re a piece of shi—”
I held up a hand, stopping him. “I apologize.” I motioned between him and me.
“Normally I would enjoy the back-and-forth. That’s part of this dance we do.
I’m sure you’d agree.” I grew serious again, letting a little of my mask slip.
The one I wore so others only saw my dead eyes and didn’t see the real monster I could be.
But we were having a moment, and if you couldn’t be yourself when you were torturing or being tortured, then when could you be yourself? Really?