XLVII
Theo Rocco
“ Put him in that room,” I point to the steel door at the end of the hallway. The two men holding Alexei’s arms drag him towards it and force him inside before slamming the door shut behind him. They nod to Dawson and I and leave us to our mission.
Which is to get Alexei to talk.
Walking into the room, Dawson rubs his hands together in glee. The man’s face lights up as soon as he gets to spill blood.
I eye the array of tools laid out on an old table at the side of the room. There are a few new ones scattered amongst the trusted old friends, and I can’t wait to try them out.
Alexei is slumped forward in his chair, tied with ropes to stop him from trying to escape. He already has bruises and cuts on his face, showing his failed struggle as he was captured by our men.
Standing back, I let Dawson start the interrogation as he walks in front of Alexei and stares down at him.
“Welcome to my playhouse, dirty Russian,” he spits down at the man. Alexei’s hazel eyes meet Dawson’s, and he glares at him in defiance, an evil smirk covering his face.
Typing a text out on my phone, I request a bottle of whiskey and glasses for Dawson and I. It’s only fair we have something to drink as we watch the show of each of us beating on Alexei.
It arrives within a few minutes and I take a sip of my whiskey as I watch Dawson swing a crowbar across Alexei’s face. A tooth falls to the floor as he spits blood out at where the metal made contact.
“How are your sons?” Dawson asks, crouching down to get in Alexei’s face. A grin spreads across the captured man’s face, his teeth covered in blood.
“So, you found that out, did you? How did Hazel take it when she found out she had brothers?” Alexei asks with glee.
“Don’t fucking say her name!” Dawson shouts at him as he swings the crowbar again, knocking another few teeth out.
“You haven’t told her yet, have you?” Alexei asks, his words now coming out with a lisp.
“We’re not talking about her with you,” I mutter as I set down my whiskey glass on the table. I run my fingers along the weapons until I land on a rusty pair of pliers. I throw them up in the air and catch them as I wait for Dawson to finish with Alexei.
Once he’s done, I walk over to Hazel’s father and strap his hands to the chair with more rope. He eyes the rusty pliers with wariness, making me grin.
Not so tough, now.
“You do realise I have haemophilia, like Hazel, don’t you,” he tries to argue. I start to laugh at him as Dawson yanks his head back to meet his eyes.
“You don’t. We checked Hazel’s chromosomal history and her mother was a carrier, giving Hazel a fifty percent chance of becoming haemophilic.”
I smirk at Dawson, knowing Andros was the one to check this out as soon as we found out about Alexei. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if Andros researched it when Hazel told us about her condition.
“We also had a doctor draw some blood from you to check your clotting factor when you were passed out, earlier,” I inform him as Dawson lets his hair go with force.
Taking the pliers, I line them up with his middle finger and yank the nail out of its nail bed. Blood pools out from him as he screams in pain.
Lightweight.
In quick succession, I remove the other four nails on his hand until a pile of blood is forming on the concrete below. Alexei’s face is ghostly pale, his eyelids drooping as though he’s trying not to pass out from the pain.
“Aren’t you meant to be asking me questions?” He asks weakly, his words slurring. That, coupled with the lisp from losing some of his teeth, makes his voice barely audible.
“All in good time,” I reply, throwing the pliers in the air and catching them again as I walk back to the table. I nod to Dawson, who takes over the next part of interrogation, and I set the pliers back down.
Grabbing my whiskey glass, I watch as Dawson fills a bucket of water from the tap next to the table. Alexei has passed out, now, his head slumped forward uncomfortably. Once the bucket is full, Dawson pours the cold water over the unconscious man. His head shoots up and he gasps for air as the water coats his face.
“Nice sleep?” Dawson asks as he drops the bucket to the floor with a loud clang. Alexei doesn’t respond, his eyes narrowing on Dawson. I move to lean against the end of the table, making sure I’m in Alexei’s peripheral vision.
“What’s your obsession with Hazel?” I ask curiously, swirling the ice around in my glass.
“She’s mine,” he mutters, slowly turning his head to me with a wince. My grip tightens on the glass and he must notice, a sly smirk spreading across his bloodied face.
She will never be yours.
“Why now?” Dawson asks, directing Alexei’s attention back to him.
“She’s always been mine. I just was waiting until the right moment.”
“And the right moment was when she was with us?” I ask, bringing my glass to my lips as I tap my foot impatiently.
“Well, it certainly made it more interesting.
“Why?” Dawson asks, coming over to the table to grab the knuckle dusters.
“Because I could get my daughter back and take out the Italian mafia, all in one fell swoop,” Alexei chuckles, the noise sounding broken.
“And you thought it would be as easy as coming to Italy?” I ask, furrowing my eyebrows.
It all seems too easy. It took no persuasion to get him to speak, almost like he’s proud of his obsession with his daughter. It’s an obsession that, clearly, no man should have with his child - one that sends chills down my spine.
The scars on Hazel’s back must be from him.
“No, I knew I would be captured as soon as I set foot on European soil.”
“Then why do it?” I ask, setting my drink down and moving to stand next to Dawson. He’s standing there patiently, though the twitch in his hand is telling me he is desperate to strike Alexei with the knuckle dusters.
“I want her to know that I’m watching everything she does. I want you all to know that I will find her and will never stop until I do. You won’t kill me here - I’m too valuable to you. If you want to get to Dmitri, it all goes through me,” Alexei straightens his shoulders as he speaks, bringing some assuredness to his stance.
“Listen to me, you pathetic man. You will never get close to her again! You’d be wise to pretend she does not exist, otherwise, if you try something, I will not hesitate to make your death last for weeks,” Dawson brings his face a few inches from Alexei, his voice dangerously low, “Each time you are on the brink of reaching the other side, I will pull you back until you are healthy enough for me to beat you within an inch of your life. It will not end until I tire of spending my energy on you, and I have a hell of a lot of energy to waste.”
As soon as he finishes speaking, he whirls his hand towards Alexei’s gut and punches him with the knuckle dusters on his fist. Alexei grunts in pain but Dawson does not stop, making sure to beat him until he passes out again.
My phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out, sighing when I see a text from Atlas. He wants me to check in with him and tell him what we have learnt from Alexei.
“You got this?” I ask Dawson as he grabs the bucket and goes to fill it up again.
“Yeah. I’m going to have some fun with him,” he grins back at me from over his shoulder.
I smirk and shake my head as I walk out of the room, making sure to shut the door behind me. The guards along the hallway have no idea what is going on inside the sound-proof room, but eye my blood-stained torso with wide eyes.
Dawson and I are infamous for our torture methods, with Dawson opting for more physical methods whilst I use psychological torture to defeat my targets.
I dial Atlas’ number and bring my phone to my ear, dismissing the guards from the hallway with a wave of my hand. He answers almost immediately and I fill him in on what Alexei has disclosed. By the time I’m done, Atlas’ breathing is heavy as though he’s holding himself back from coming down to finish the job off himself.
“What do you want to do?” I ask him.
“We have to let him go. He’s right that we need him to get through to Dmitri.”
“Are you serious?” I shout into the phone, my fist clenching at my side. I can hear Andros’ voice in the background, and it sounds like he is also arguing with Atlas’ statement.
“I’ve already got word that the Russians are sending people to break out Alexei. It’s not the fight we want to waste manpower with, right now,” Atlas calmly answers.
“We have five times the number of men the Russians have. We can handle them without breaking a sweat,” I argue, stopping myself from punching the wall opposite me in fury.
“And that will be beneficial when we locate Dmitri and take him down. Dump Alexei on the side of the road somewhere and get the police to look the other way. Andros will send the location to the Russians,” Atlas instructs, leaving no room for argument in his tone.
Fuck.