Chapter 25 Zeth
Zeth
“Open Your Mouth.”
“No!”
“Fucking open it.”
Anton Merrin—sweating, hands cuffed behind his back—blinks up at me.
The terror he should be displaying is like a drug, one I have a love/hate addiction to, and yet Anton is probably only exhibiting a five on the fear scale—a fact that is downright pissing me off.
He’s ruining my high. I bring the butt of my Desert Eagle (previous owner recently deceased) down on his forehead, and a river of blood pours down his face.
He’s a defiant motherfucker, wincing through the pain as he sets his jaw.
There’s no begging here. No groveling. No bargaining.
Anton is old school. He knows there’s a very strong probability that he’s about to die, and he’s determined not to shit his pants on his way out. I guess I can respect that.
I crouch down so that our eyes are level.
Above us, the naked light bulb swings to and fro, casting shadows first over him and then me.
We have the same bleak void lurking behind our irises.
I recognize myself in him, and I wonder whether he likes hurting people, too.
Of course he fucking does. “Where is he?”
“I’m not telling you shit, asshole.” He spits blood at me.
It sprays down the front of my jacket, over my T-shirt.
Sloane thinks I wear black because I’m some kind of nightmarish vision, a creature of the night.
The reality of it is much more practical.
Black hides the blood. I look down at myself, considering Anton’s action while trying to think of something fitting to punish him.
It comes to me pretty quickly—a neat trick I picked up in prison.
I straighten and turn, surveying the empty room, taking my time.
The walls are solid concrete. They’re thick.
Thick enough to block out a grown man’s screams. A rickety wooden table leans up against the wall on the far side of the room.
I smirk as I make my way over to it, knowing what I’ll need from the black duffel sitting on top of it.
“Hey, fucker! You better not turn your back on me!”
I stop. In the darkness, I smile. I let Anton think for a moment that I’m going to react to his bravado, but then I continue, slowly walking to the bag and unzipping it.
There are so many different utensils inside that it takes me a moment to find what I’m looking for, but I find it eventually: a small black box, about three inches square and another inch deep.
“You ain’t gonna get anything out of me.” Anton hawks and spits again. “Piece of shit enforcer.”
I pace back to Anton, training a blank expression onto my face.
“You always have to state the obvious?” I ask him, palming the small box in front of me, making sure that he sees it.
On his knees, Anton eyes the box, clenching his jaw.
I will show no fear. I will show no fear.
I’m already inside his head, though. I see his fear.
It just looks different from most people’s.
It’s dark and tainted, like the rest of him.
“What you talking ’bout?”
“Piece of shit enforcer.” I repeat his words as I stoop down.
“Back when I arrived at the compound, when you were standing at the gate, you called me the same thing then, too. I know what I am, Anton. Do you think that calling me by an arbitrary title will offend me? Do you think you’ll get a reaction out of me by implying that I rank low in Charlie Holsan’s organization? ”
“Ain’t got nothing to do with how you rank in Holsan’s crew, motherfucker. It’s about you ranking beneath me.”
I think on that. While I’m doing that, I tease the lid of the box open just enough for Anton to catch a glimpse of the shiny metal inside.
I snap the lid closed. “Charlie’s family is organized a little different than most. As it goes, he uses me to do his dirty work, sure.
But there is no one else above me, Anton.
I’m as high as it gets in Holsan’s crew.
If you were one of Charlie’s boys, you wouldn’t be fit to polish my fucking boots, let alone look me in the eye.
” But Anton isn’t listening. He’s staring at the box.
Good. I shake it from side to side, scratching at the stubble on my jaw with my free hand.
“But right now, we’re not here because of who we work for or who’s more important.
Let’s forget all about Jake and Charlie.
Right now, I want to talk to you about this box.
” I hold it five inches from his face, so close he has to tip his head back in order to focus on it.
“What can you tell me about this box?” I ask him.
Anton looks at me as though I’m crazy. Slowly, he cranes his neck forward again, widening his eyes at me. “I don’t fucking care about your box.”
Oh, Anton. Liar, liar, pants on fire.
“Okay, fair enough. I guess we’re only wasting time, anyway.
It’s black, it’s small, it’s whatever. The most important thing about this box,” I say, shaking it from side to side again, “is that right now it’s closed.
It has something inside it that I want. Just like you.
You have something inside of you that I want, Anton.
And just like this box, I’m going to open you up and reach in and take it. ”
I lift the lid properly this time, wide enough that he can see inside, and I take out a slim piece of metal. A paperclip. Anton’s eyes go round. “You’re fucking crazy, dude. Everybody knows it.”
I snap the lid closed again and tuck the box into my jacket pocket.
I hold up the single paperclip I took out so he can watch what I’m doing.
“I’m not crazy. Crazy people aren’t rational.
I’m very rational. Right now, this situation you find yourself in is rational, too.
You tell me where my guy is, and I won’t shove this piece of metal underneath your fingernail.
And as a result, I won’t have to keep getting more paperclips from my box to use on your other fingers until you tell me. Doesn’t that sound logical to you?”
Anton looks a little lost, like he’s anticipated the pain and already seen himself crumble. “Fuck you, man. This is about loyalty.”
“This is not about loyalty. There’s no such thing.”
“Bullshit. You wouldn’t be here threatening me otherwise. You’re loyal to that English motherfucker. I’m loyal to the Talons.”
I shake my head, tutting. “Loyalty is another word for stupidity, Anton. Dogs are loyal. You kick a loyal dog, and it cowers at your feet, dreaming of a way to get back into your good graces. Kick me and I’ll bite your fucking hand off.”
He falters. “You ain’t here to protect Charlie?”
I shove my face in his, baring my teeth. “I’m here to protect myself. If you’re smart, you’ll start doing the same.”