Chapter 17
“Long time no see, Kane,” Butcher says as he steps into the room. I know him by his ugly fucking face from the folders we keep on potential threats. It’s my job to know everyone, but Butcher? He’s a ghost.
“I don’t think I’ve actually ever met you in person, but you obviously know me.
Lucky me.” I grin as his men step back. “We certainly don’t run in the same circles, and we’ve never fucked with you, so that begs the question .
. . why were you foolish enough to kidnap me? I’m still alive, so it’s for a reason.”
“Bait.” He smirks. “This isn’t about you, Sai. Well, not totally. Two birds, one stone.”
Bait? That confuses me, but I don’t show it.
Butcher disappeared years ago, just completely went off grid.
He had been piquing our interest before, growing in power and money from running guns, drugs, and women, uncaring whose turf he was on.
We identified him as a problem, and then one day, nothing.
Almost everyone thought he was dead, but not me.
I captured a picture through one of my sources.
I knew he was off hiding, licking his wounds, and I can see why.
His face is a mess. There’s a huge scar all the way from his temple to his chin. It’s like someone tried to split him in two. One of his eyes is jacked up, and his lips are mutilated too. He looks horrifying. He’s still tall and large, if only a few years older, but that face . . .
“How do you go outside with that ugly ass face? Do you wear a mask?” The knife slams into my outstretched arm, and I bite back my shout as it tears through muscle and skin.
“Still a smart-ass, I see. I thought this world would have broken you of that. No problem, I still can. I’m very good at breaking people.
” He hums as he walks over to the table and picks up a small dagger.
“I know exactly what people fear the most. Oh, it took a few years, but I figured it out after much trial and error. You know, you remind me of a pet that I first learned this all on. She refused to scream as well . . . at first.” He drives the dagger into my ear.
My hearing explodes. and a yell escapes my lips.
I shake my head, trying to dislodge it as he twists and turns before pulling it out. I feel blood dripping down my face.
He deafened me.
Horror fills me, and I stare at him in shock. No one would dare do this to us, so why does he feel like he can?
What does he want?
Pressing the bloodstained knife to my face, he taps my cheek with the blade. “Told you that you would scream. Let’s see how loud, shall we? The great Sai leader . . . I’m really going to enjoy this. I might even record it to send to your little family.”
The idea of my brothers seeing what’s to come . . . no. I can’t scream. I can’t give in. I will not do that to them.
Despite the pain I am in, I aim my usual telltale smirk at Butcher. Years of having to control my expressions is coming in handy now. “Do your best.”
His smile drops, and a macabre growl twists his rotten face as he drags the bloody knife down mine. “Before I’m through, I’m going to carve up your face so badly, not even your own family will recognize you.”
I don’t let my reaction show. I can’t. If he’s recording like he said he is, then I won’t give my brothers any regrets.
I need to find a way out of here. Others would keep me alive, but he doesn’t care if I live or die, not really.
He needs me for something, but his bloodlust is starting to outweigh that need.
“But first, let’s start with some oldies but goodies.” He whistles as he surveys the tools to the right, enjoying this.
“You said two birds . . . Who are you trapping and what do I have to do with it?” I ask, figuring I have nothing left to lose and knowledge is power.
“Ah, that would be telling. You’ll know soon enough, but until then, let’s have some fun,” he taunts as he turns to me with pliers in hand. “That’s a pretty smile you have.”
I clamp my jaw shut, but he just laughs, opening and closing the pliers repeatedly.
“Force his mouth open,” he orders, and his men hurry to do his bidding.
One holds my head in a viselike grip despite how much I fight, and the other digs his thumbs into my jaw until my mouth is forced open.
Butcher shoves the pliers in, and I taste metal and rust, which makes me gag as he clamps something, and then red-hot pain fills my mouth along with the taste of copper as he yanks the pliers free, showing me one of my wisdom teeth.
They hold me like that, with blood dripping down my throat and chin, until I’m choking as he removes four more.
When he steps back and sits on a chair one of his men pulled up, they finally release me.
Jerking my head away, I turn and spit my blood at them as they recoil.
My entire mouth is on fire, but I don’t let it show as I keep my mouth partially open and breathe through my nose, ignoring the taste of blood on my tongue.
I watch in disgust as he licks my teeth before pocketing them.
“You know, I used to look up to you. You were my idol growing up. I told myself I’d be just like you—powerful, rich, and running these streets—but as I got older, I realized it was all a facade.
Oh, you dip your toe in this world with fear, guns, and money, but never the really deep stuff, like drugs and people.
It’s like you think you’re too good for it, but that’s where true power and fear lie.
You act all high and mighty, like everyone should be scared of you, but the truth is, they should fear me more.
You have rules and standards, but I have none.
There is no length I wouldn’t go to get what I want, but you .
. . You have a weakness—your family.” He sneers the word with a chuckle as he drags the pliers across his face, coating his skin in my blood.
“Family is overrated. They just get in the way and make you weak, so I killed mine.”
“Great story. You sound like a fanboy, like you still look up to me and want me to know how truly badass you are,” I taunt as I reveal my bloody mouth in a sick smile.
“Want the bitter truth, Butcher?” I drag out his name.
“You will never be like me. No matter what you do or how far you go, you’ll always be this, hiding in the dark, scared and fighting for scraps. ”
My head jerks as the pliers smash into my cheek, no doubt fracturing it, but I just smile as I turn my head, licking my bloody lips. “Hit a nerve, did I? What, no long-winded story now? Come on, you’re so proud of who you are. Was your family your first kill?”
I can see him fighting himself, but in the end, he wants them to know how sick he is. He thrives on shock and fear, and he wants that from me, like a child begging for his father’s attention.
“My first human,” he corrects as he leans back.
“I killed animals before—cats, dogs, birds. I found it intriguing watching the light die from their eyes. I was always curious if it was the same with humans. I killed my little sister first, because she was easier to handle. Smaller, you see. Then I worked up to my parents. She cried so much, begging me and asking why, saying she loved me. Idiot. Like it would save her. I watched her choke on her own blood, and then the light left her eyes. I enjoyed it a lot. I was going to pace myself, but I couldn’t stop, so I went to my parents’ bedroom next. ”
Jesus fucking Christ, what the fuck is wrong with this guy?
“My mother barely fought, but my father was a big man. He got a few good punches in, even gave me this.” He rubs a faint scar along his neck.
“But in the end, he hesitated because he was sentimental and I was his son, but I didn’t hesitate.
” He tilts his head as he stares at me. “I wonder if you would if I made you choose between your brothers.”
I feel my face tighten, anger building at the mention of my family, and he chuckles. “There it is, that look, the one that tells me you’re plotting my death.” His eyes widen as he moves closer. “What if I dragged them in here and executed them one by one? What would you do?”
I don’t speak, and I try to control my reaction as much as I can, knowing that’s what he’s looking for. I must not succeed, though, because he grins.
“You’re like me,” he murmurs as he presses his face to mine. “You just hide it better.”
“I don’t kill innocents,” I correct.
“No? I think you have, though, and I think if you had to, you would.” Standing, he goes to choose another tool when the door opens.
“Sorry, sir,” a man interrupts, ducking his head in fear. It’s clear he’s terrified. Butcher’s men aren’t loyal out of sacrifice or love, but pure fright, and it shows. “You’re going to want to see this.”
“If this isn’t good, I’m going to do to you what I was doing to him,” Butcher warns as he stands, throwing the pliers on the table before looking at me. “To be continued, Kane.”
He follows his man out and leaves me alone with the taste of my blood in my mouth. A horrible feeling for my family grows in my gut.