Chapter 5 Silas
Being the workaholics my brother and I were, we didn’t leave our work behind at headquarters. We brought it home with us.
Not because we had to, but because AIED headquarters wasn’t built for what our interrogations required. Too many eyes. Too many interruptions. More importantly, there were too many rules about how to treat interrogees
The rules didn't exist because Arca cared about morality. Interrogation, even torture, was fully sanctioned, just kept quiet. Public perception mattered more than anything, which meant everything had to be done out of sight, out of mind.
So when we proposed a housing transfer with a built-in interrogation workshop, Command was eager to provide it.
They set us up in a private residence, with a renovated basement designed for torture. Soundproofed. Secured. Outfitted with everything we needed to do our jobs without oversight breathing down our necks.
More control. More access. More efficiency.
Which was why we brought the little mute home with us, not bothering to restrain her as we led her inside. She was too frail to try anything that resembled an escape.
We hurried through the living quarters on the first level, moving straight down to our workshop in the basement. Her knees locked at the top of the stairs, hesitation freezing her in place, but a small nudge to her lower back was all the encouragement she needed.
When we reached the bottom, Knox flicked on the lights. Fluorescent brightness flooded the space, illuminating every corner. For most people, seeing the workshop was enough to get them talking immediately. It often saved us the effort of having to do much more.
I didn’t expect that from the little mute.
She looked around, taking it all in and her expression settled into something close to unimpressed. Every tool gleamed, polished and pristine. Restraints and weapons lined the walls, neatly organized. But, she barely blinked.
What the hell had this woman been through?
A cough echoed through the basement, coming from the unlit corridor at the back where we'd had two holding cells constructed for convenience. In the rush of discovering the mute, I’d almost forgotten about one of Marco’s lieutenants, Jacob, whom we’d been keeping for the past few days.
He wasn’t in quite the same condition we’d received him in.
Oh well.
He groaned again, followed by a few wet coughs, and then the begging started.
“Is someone there?” he rasped. “Please. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. Just please…”
I strode down the corridor, peering through the bars with a smile. The moment Jacob saw me, his eyes went wide with fear.
“Not you,” he blurted. “Where’s the other one? Please, I’ll talk to him.”
“Tsk, tsk, Jacob,” I said lightly. “Is that any way to greet me?”
I gestured vaguely down the hall. “My brother’s here. Right around the corner. But you’d be an idiot to think he’ll show you more mercy or kindness than I will.”
A coughing fit seized him. When he finally caught his breath, he croaked, “I don’t think that. But at least he doesn’t seem to enjoy it so much.”
“In that respect, you’re correct,” I said as I slid the cell door open.
Jacob didn’t bother struggling as I hooked my arms beneath the chair we'd restrained him to and tipped it back, dragging him down the corridor. As I hauled him, I kept my tone conversational.
“Now, Jacob, you said you were ready to talk. Let’s see how true that is.” I gave the side of his head a light tap. “You’ve been here a week and given us some useful information, but I don’t believe for a second that’s everything you’ve got stashed away up here.”
I stopped and turned the chair.
“I want you to tell me everything you know about the omegas Marco Bellini is keeping. His lovely 'wives' as he calls them.”
He shook his head immediately. “I told you, I don’t know anything about them! Marco doesn’t let us see them. I don’t know where they are or how many there are. I already told you that—”
His words died on his tongue as his gaze lifted, locking onto the little mute standing beside Knox.
“Oh, fuck.”
“Oh, fuck is right, Jacob,” I said calmly. “Looks like you were lying after all. Your reaction tells me you know exactly who this is.”
His face drained of what little color it had left.
“You have Lena the Least?” he breathed. Then manic laughter overtook him, bubbling out uncontrollably. “Oh, you guys are so fucked!”
“Lena,” Knox murmured, looking down at the omega, whose eyes lifted to meet his at the sound of her name.
I glanced around in mock confusion. “That’s a strange take, considering you’re the one bleeding out and tied to a chair.”
My hand slid across the workbench, lingering over certain tools before settling on a small handheld saw. I pointed it at him.
"So explain to us exactly why you believe we are the ones who are fucked."
“He’ll kill me if I talk.”
“We’ll kill you if you don’t,” I said with a shrug.
“Besides, we moved some rather large amounts of cash in and out of your bank account. Marco will see the transactions when he investigates your disappearance, if he hasn’t already.
We also stopped by your apartment, removed your suitcase, and left behind some very incriminating evidence, Jacob.
Naturally, he’ll come to the only conclusion there is. You’re a rat on the run.”
He groaned.
“We know how paranoid he’s become. Your only option is to tell us everything you know and hope we don’t kill you once you've finished spilling Marco's secrets.”
We would absolutely kill him once he told us everything we wanted to know. Only an idiot would think otherwise, but men in his position always clung to hope. Even when reason screamed that they were already dead.
I laid the teeth of the saw blade across his shoulder, moving it back and forth tentatively. They caught in the threads of his shirt, tearing through fabric and scraping against his skin.
“Fuck! Please, stop! Okay, okay! Fuck, I’ll talk!”
I didn’t stop sawing. “Then talk.”
He hesitated until the saw finally began to tear into his skin. “Lena! Lena the Least, fuck. Lena is the last of Marco's omegas you wanted to come across!”
My hand stalled, the blade resting against his skin.
“And why is that, Jacob?”
“She’s his favorite! Marco’s not going to let her go easily. He’ll come for her, and punish whoever kept her from him!”
Lena snorted behind me. I turned to see her eyes roll before a brief, disbelieving laugh slipped past her lips.
“Lena seems to think that’s a lie.” I chuckled while studying her.
I looked back at Jacob. “Our intel says she’s his least favorite, and she agrees. I don’t think lying in your situation is a smart idea…”
My hand started moving again, back and forth, applying a bit more pressure.
“Fuck! Stop! I’m not lying! I’m not!” My hand stalled as the words spilled out of him now, completely unfiltered. “Marco might have the rest of his crew fooled, calling her his 'least favorite,' but I know it’s just a tactic. He does it to divert their interest.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Two years ago, I did a job for Marco. A big one. The kind of favor that would’ve bought me a night with any wife.
Hell, it did. He said I could pick whichever omega I wanted.
” A wet cough cut him off before he lifted his head, his eyes meeting Lena’s.
Her face twisted with disgust. “I picked her. I told Marco I wanted a night with the feral, mute omega in his basement.”
“Why would you pick her?”
He shrugged weakly. “What can I say? I like them to fight back a little. Gets me going.”
Knox growled low.
“Continue,” I said, my voice edged with impatience.
“He nearly killed me for even asking. Beat the shit out of me, and ended up picking the ugliest omega he had. Real brutal-looking girl. Cunt was good, but I had to bag her face.”
He licked his cracked lips, eyes darting now, panic threading his voice. “Marco tells everyone she's nothing, too ruined to be enjoyed and too feral to be worth touching. Lena, the Least everyone calls her…”
His breath hitched, eyes locking on the omega in front of him. “But she’s beautiful. Too beautiful.”
Lena went still behind me.
“That’s why he keeps her starved and filthy. Keeps her locked away in his basement.” His voice cracked. “He doesn’t want anyone looking at her. Because if they do, they'll know he's been hoarding her all to himself.”
Knox’s growl deepened, vibrating the air.
“She’s his favorite,” Jacob whispered. “He just hides it. Makes the rest of us believe she’s trash so no one covets her. So no one tries to take her.” His eyes dropped to the saw still resting against his skin. “Marco doesn’t share what he values. He cages it.”
Lena shook her head in complete disbelief. She wasn’t buying any of it.
“I don’t know, Jacob. Make me believe it,” I said as my hand glided forward.
“How? Fuck. Okay!” He swallowed hard. “Why else would he keep her so long? Five years! Ask yourself that. His omegas come and go. Bought. Traded. Trafficked. Few last as long as she has. Why not trade her like the rest if she was his least favorite? Let someone else deal with her particular brand of fucking crazy.”
He kept talking, desperation bleeding into every word, scrambling to make us believe him.
“For fuck’s sake! He keeps her locked in the basement of his mansion. Just so he’s always around to taunt her when she goes into heat. It's messed up. Everyone can hear her screaming and begging all the way from upstairs.”
Knox stepped forward. “Begging for what? What do you mean by that?”
Jacob’s gaze flicked between the two of us. He swallowed. His mouth snapped shut. Whatever he had just said, he knew better than to keep talking.
“What. Do. You. Mean,” Knox asked again, each word clipped tight as his patience frayed.
“My brother doesn’t do well waiting,” I said casually. “I suggest you answer him. Quickly.”