Chapter 15 #2
She sighs heavily. “I have to. You know that. My feelings for you, they’re real too. I like you. I do. But there’s no future for us.”
Her hand rises to my cheek, the smooth touch of her skin on mine twisting my heart, reminding me she’ll be gone soon.
“I’m sorry, Dante,” she continues. “It’s not because of your secrets. It’s because of my life. I need to be free of them, and you need to be free of me. My family will never leave us alone, and I don’t want to constantly look over my shoulder.”
“You won’t have to. Give me time to figure it all out.” I pull her close, my lips barely a touch away. “I want you. I want this. Let us have it. Just tell me you’ll give me time. Give us time.”
“Dante, please,” she whispers, the painful emotion imprinted in her voice. “Time won’t help us. Just forget about me. Once I’m gone, you won’t remember me. You’ll see.”
“Is that really what you think?” My breath skims over her lips. “That this is just physical? That I don’t care about you? Because you couldn’t be more wrong.”
There’s so much more I could say to convince her, but this isn’t the right time. I have to go and tend to business.
“Do you know how badly I want to kiss you right now?” My thumb slides under her chin.
She slants her face sideways, her features contorted with the same emotions rocking my insides.
“But I know if I do—if I taste you—I’m not gonna be able to stop, Raquel.”
Her lips part, breaths falling faster, her intoxicating gaze melding and becoming a part of me. She refuses to speak; her eyes doing all the talking. I can tell how badly she’s fighting our connection while wanting it.
“I don’t want to leave you, baby,” I tell her. “But I have to. And if you want me after what I’m about to do, keep your door open for me.”
Before I go, I kiss the corner of her mouth, knowing that’s all I can manage to do in this moment.
“Dante…”
My whispered name on her breath practically sends me over the edge, but with one final glance, I turn around and leave her there, standing alone, while I head to the basement to do what must be done.
Pulling the door open, I start descending down and hear the screams of one man. Guess my brother couldn’t wait to start the fun without me.
“This is just a taste of what will happen to you both,” Enzo says. “So, choose: your allegiance to the family or to yourself.”
“I don’t know shit!” one of them bellows as I take the last few steps. “If I did, I would tell you, I swear.”
“No you wouldn’t,” I interrupt, now seeing it was Jared, the accountant talking. “That blood on your mouth, that swollen fucking eye, was just a welcome gift.”
I look at Enzo.
“I think they need a little more to convince them. Don’t you, brother?”
“I was saving that for you.” The grin spreads over his face like a snake’s bite.
I move toward the two men, each sitting on a chair, no longer blindfolded, but hands still tied behind them.
They’re both way older than us, probably in their forties, or maybe early fifties.
There’s a bit of gray at the sides of Jared’s hair, while Victor has none, his brown hair thinning out at the top of his head.
One of them has to know something.
Our people can’t find the lawyer yet. It’s as though he’s vanished. We keep hitting dead ends. It’s enraging. Those kids are out there, needing help, and we can’t give it to them if we don’t know where the hell to look.
Approaching the corner of the basement, I open the closet, finding a small black zippered bag where I keep my toys. Not the good kind, but the kind that’ll provoke anyone to talk. If they still choose to keep silent, then there’s only one way out of here, and that’s through painful death.
“So…” I say with my back to them as I open the bag, the sound of the zipper resonating through the large space. “Should we do this the very bloody way or the humane way?”
I take out a paring knife, plus two eight-inch chef’s knives, the bright blue resin handles custom made for me. The designer had no idea what I’d be using them for, though. I remove the honing steel next, which is used to sharpen my blades.
When I rise to my feet and lay the items on the coffee table beside them, I see the fear sitting quietly across their faces, their gasping growing heavy.
“See…” I lift one knife and slowly swipe it over the steel. “My brother Dom prefers to use torches, but me, I’m old school. Knives are a lot more fun, don’t you think?”
“Fuck you,” Victor bites out, his lips set in a sneer. “I know who you people are. I’m not afraid of you pussies. No matter what you do, I ain’t talkin’.”
“They always think they won’t talk, right?” I chuckle at Enzo to my right.
“Every damn time,” he agrees. “You think I have time to get some popcorn before you start the show?”
I lift up one glistening blade in the air, appreciating its beauty as I stare at the sharp, pointy edges.
“You might miss the intro.”
“Guess I’ll stick around, then. The beginning is always the most fun.”
“With the way I start…” A grin slides to my mouth. “I think so.”
I approach Victor, the mentally stronger one. If I start with him and show the accountant what he’ll be experiencing, I think he’ll be the one to talk.
“Did you know it only takes about five minutes to die after your femoral artery is severed?”
Their eyes settle on the tip of the knife, which is pointing at the ceiling.
“But you can bleed out even faster, especially with the way I cut.”
I take my time reaching Victor, and once I’m in front of him, I slowly drag the edge of the blade down his inner thigh, making sure it punctures through his jeans.
He hisses and grits his teeth as drops of blood seep through the fabric.
“I really don’t enjoy this part of the process.” I raise the weapon, landing it across his neck, while Jared whimpers beside him.
“He’s lying,” Enzo throws in with a chuckle. “He enjoys it. A little too much.”
I curl my lips into a vicious smile. “Yeah, he’s right. I kinda do.”
And instead of bringing the knife back toward me, I slam it into Victor’s outer thigh. His agonizing scream turns piercing as his flesh gives way and the blade fully enters him.
“Yes, I know it hurts. Hang in there.” I pat him on the shoulder, leaving the weapon where it is.
Marching back a step, I retrieve the other chef’s knife from the coffee table.
“But the good news is…” I shout over his noisy cries. “Your artery is still safe. It’s important to see the positives. That’s what my father used to tell us. You know, the one your boss killed.”
“Oh…oh my God!” Jared’s eyes widen with shock. “You really cut him.”
His chest drops faster and faster with every breath. He can’t seem to tear his attention away from his friend’s thigh. Well, I don’t actually know whether they’re friends, but it doesn’t really matter, does it?
“Of course I cut him. What did you think we were going to do here, buddy?” I ask, shuffling over to him with the knife still in my palm. “Braid each other’s hair? Because I don’t know how.”
His exhales fall quicker now, his breathing shallower as the tip of one of the knives slithers closer to his eye. He can’t look away; his wild stare rips through his eye sockets.
Victor still cries, his whimpers getting less pathetic by the second.
“P-ple-please don’t do this.” Jared’s inhales rattle frantically, his eyes glazing over.
“Okay, sure, pal.” I clamp a palm over his shoulder and squeeze tighter, hoping to break something. “How about you tell us where they’ve stashed the kids first, hmm? You can’t possibly be okay with children being sold? Raped?”
“I don’t know anything. I swear!” He shakes his head, moaning with fear. “I don’t.”
“Hmm.” I back away. “So you’ve never heard of any trafficked kids and women stashed somewhere? You’re saying you have nothing to give me? The guy who helps them handle their money has no idea they buy and sell innocent children?”
“Yes! I swear! I don’t know shit about no kids.”
“You believe him?” I ask Enzo, glancing at him to my left.
He lifts up his shoulders, shaking his head. “Nah. He probably likes little kids, that sick fuck.”
“Is my brother right? Do you touch little kids? Are you protecting yourself?”
“No, no, no.” His face pales, chin trembling. “I don’t do that. I never touched anyone when—”
His eyes grow like their own planets as he realizes he’s let something slip that he shouldn’t have.
“When what?” My footsteps reverberate through the room as I walk back over to the other guy, my eyes on Jared as the knife lands sharply on Victor’s cheek and slices across.
“Ahhh!” Victor screams as red droplets sail down the side of his face.
“This will be you soon, except a lot worse,” I warn Jared while his face contracts in terror.
“Please! I don’t know anything!” he tries to convince me.
But it’s too late now.
“You still don’t want to talk?” I lift the knife in my hand and slam it into Victor’s other thigh, but this time, I slice the artery nice and clean, then pull out the blade.
“See, he’s about to die. Slowly,” I tell Jared, who’s crying now. “Is that what you want to happen to you?”