Chapter 29
Ronan
By the time we reach the compound, I’m vibrating with anticipation.
This is the beginning of the end of Colton’s nightmare.
The thought coils in my gut like a living, breathing thing.
I go through the list of things I’m going to do to these fuckers.
My inner monster wants to come out to play, but I know I need to hold back until I get answers.
Then I will fucking end them all. I’ll have their blood on my hands, relishing every scream.
Taylor meets us at the door. “We have them all in the big room, bound and gagged. I figured if you work on them as a group, at least one will break.” I nod in agreement.
I feel a hand on my shoulder and know that it’s Declan.
He is usually the one who handles the interrogations.
He learned a long time ago of the consequences of not doing it properly.
I hardly ever do them. I have no patience for people’s stupidity.
They’re going to die either way when they’re brought here.
“I know what you are going to say, Declan.”
“And what’s that?”
“That you need to be the one to handle things. I can’t let you do that. These fuckers hurt and threaten Colton and Ollie. They’re mine.”
“Well, that’s where you’re wrong. If anyone understands your need, it’s me. I was going to suggest that we do it together. You handle the pain, and I handle the information. All you need to do is follow my lead.”
I study his face. He is good at what he does, and we need this to go smoothly.
So I nod in agreement. I’d do this for Colton.
We enter the large, clinically white room.
The floors are sealed, and drains are strategically placed throughout them.
A cart of tools has been brought in—tools I will use on these assholes. I take in the three men.
“Who’s in charge?” Declan asks. I watch as the two on the left both glance at the larger man on the right.
Walking directly in front of him, I snatch the tape from his mouth, ripping dry skin from his lips. His gasp and scream cover me like a blanket. Even if I did have emotions, I would still feel nothing for this piece of shit.
“There’s been some mistake,” he starts to say. My fist to his gut stops him. He wheezes, trying to draw in air.
“The only mistake is that you think you are in charge. What’s your name?” Declan asks the man.
“Brother Tobis,” he finally gets out.
“Earl Pearlman,” Finn says from the other side of the room. “Age thirty-four, originally from fucking nowhere, Mississippi. Joined Children of the Fallen five years ago. In charge of transporting the kids that the cult sells.” Finn reads off his stats from a tablet.
“Tell me, Earl, where are Moses and the others? Who’s helping them here in Philly?”
Earl’s eyes move from Declan to me and then back. “The Lord will rescue me from every evil deed and bring me safely into his heavenly kingdom. To him be the glory forever and ever. Amen.”
I don’t understand religion to start with, but I know it’s important to most people in this world. It really irritates me when evil people hide behind it and spout scriptures like it will cleanse them of their wrongdoing.
“2 Timothy 4:18, nice. I personally like Jeremiah 14:14: Then the Lord said to me, ‘The prophets are prophesying falsehood in My name. I have neither sent them nor commanded them nor spoken to them; they are prophesying to you a false vision, divination, futility, and the deception of their own minds. I think it’s more fitting.” Liam says.
Liam has never read the Bible, to my knowledge, but he memorized certain verses just for targets like this. I don’t wait for Earl to respond. I punch him in the face, once, twice, and watch as blood pours from his broken nose.
“Who is helping here in Philly? And don’t waste your breath on spouting bible verses.
” Declan walks to the cart and picks up a drill.
He pretends to examine it before handing it to me.
I press the button, and the large drill bit whirls and then stops.
I wait. Earl opens his mouth and then shuts it again. His bloody lips press into a hard line.
“Ronan, I don’t think he is going to need his knee cap anymore.”
I take my cue and press the tip of the bit to his left knee.
His legs are strapped to the chair, so no matter how much he tries, he can’t move away.
I put pressure on the drill as it starts.
First through the fabric on his pants, then the thin skin.
I feel the resistance as I hit bone. The screams are like a symphony playing in my ears.
I don’t stop until I feel the drill free spin.
It went straight through. I switch to reverse and yank the drill from his knee.
Earl’s eyes roll back in his head, and he passes out from the pain.
I slap his face a couple of times, but he is out cold.
“Pussy,” Finn spits.
“Next,” Declan steps in front of the next guy, who looks like he is about to vomit.
The green tint to his skin is a dead giveaway for what is going to happen as soon as the tape is removed.
Declan sees it too. He steps slightly to the side when he rips the tape off.
Bile rushes from the man covering the front of his shirt and pants.
“So fucking gross.” Finn grabs a hose from the wall and sprays the man down, the water taking the vomit with it to the drain.
“Same question, if you give the same answer as Earl here, you will get the same result. Who is helping here in Philly?”
“I don’t know,” the man yells. “I wasn’t told about any of that. I don’t have anything to do with any of this.”
“Jasper Collins, age thirty-three. Photographer. It’s your work that is on the dark net website, advertising the kids.” Finn gives the stats again. He looks over to me and adds. “He had a bunch of pictures of Ollie on his hard drive. Just in case the current buyer backed out.”
The red haze that covers my vision tints my whole world.
I’m deaf to the screams of the man who is before me.
My mind shuts down all reasoning when my hand pulls the knife from my belt.
I only feel the sticky wetness coating my hands.
Rivulets of blood run down my forearms. I faintly hear Declan saying something about him being dead, but still, I don’t stop.
The sobs of the next man pull my attention from the eviscerated carcass in front of me. I snatched the tape from his mouth. Even before the last of it left his skin, he started talking.
“I don’t know who it is,” his words come out fast between sobs. “But a few days ago, a call came in from someone who works for Murphy Enterprises. The guy said that Colton was here and where they could find him.” His sobs turn to full-on hysteria as I move closer to him.
“Is that all the information that you have?” Declan asked. “Ronan, here is losing his patience for bullshit.”
“He said,” he takes in a deep breath as he tries to move as far away from me as his restraints will allow. “He said that he could get to them. He had a place for them to stay and a plan. I don’t know the details. Please, please let me go.” His begging starts in earnest.
“Jeremy Snider, age 28. From who the fuck cares. Is responsible for locating kids matching buyers’ requests.” Finn snarls. His patience was wearing thin as well.
“I never touched the kids. I did as I was told! I had to,” he screams.
“You had to. You had to find kids, babies, for the others to sell. You think just because you didn’t physically touch them that makes you innocent?” Finn asks.
Not waiting for a reply, Declan asks a question of his own. “Is that everything? Think hard about your answer.”
“I think his name is Ken or Kenny or some K name. I wasn’t on the call.”
“Ronan, he’s of no more use.”
I run my knife down his face, his throat stopping when I reach where his heart is. “Burn in the hell you preach about,” I say as I slide the knife between his ribs and stab his heart. I keep my eyes on him, watching his life drain.
“Oh, look whose awake. Who is helping here in Philly?” Declan pulls Earl’s head back so hard by his hair that I’m sure he’s going to be missing chunks.
That gives me an idea. Moving behind him, I replace Declan’s hand with my own.
I pull his head back so he can see me standing over him. I place my knife at his hairline.
“Fuck, stop. His name is Kenneth. He said that he was demoted and wanted to get even. I don’t know where they are, just that he was going to meet them at the airport.”
I glance over at Dad, who has been leaning against the back wall, watching us work. His face is a mask of calm, but the subtle flare of his nostrils tells me that his demon is close to the surface.
“Do it,” Declan says, and I make the first cut. I relieve him of his hair. Then I relieve him of his life.
“I knew we should have gotten rid of that asshole when he fucked up the first time,” Declan says. “I still owe him for letting Xavier get kidnapped.”
“He’s mine,” Dad says, and we all know not to argue.