11. 11 Thorne
11: Thorne
I'm ready. So fucking ready to tear this world apart. Every second away from her is a second closer to losing my humanity entirely.
She's the light in my life. Always has been. Even from a distance, Vic was my moral compass. Everything I do is for her, is to better myself for her.
But how the fuck am I supposed to do that when she goes and gets kidnapped? There's no turning back now. I've let this darkness inside me fester, and now it's boiling over.
I don't care if Blaze hates it, but when I see Marcus, we're not sitting down for a chat. No . I'll make him bleed the answers I need.
Tonight I find out what Nico has on our girl. What held her back from coming with us. Did she mean anything she said at the restaurant?
Ryder doesn't think so, but a part of me knows that a small piece of her probably feels that way. She should hate us after all. We bullied her for too long. Made her so scared of us, and for what? Because I didn't want to lose these two idiots? Because they couldn't handle their own feelings for her, so to remove temptation, they made sure she hated them?
We may have high IQs, we may have even run a fucking successful gang by junior year, but we clearly didn't know what the fuck we were doing when it came to Vic.
“Aren't you a little too dolled up for this fake date?” Ryder arches a brow, amusement twinkling in those blue irises. He's smirking at Marisol, trying to tease her as she steps out of the house.
He's not wrong. The dress is short and tight, no sleeves, which probably means no bra. Her makeup is done, her hair high in a ponytail. She looks like she's ready to have some fun and not like she's about to go catfish someone.
“For one, he has to think it's real to even approach me. And for two, when you guys are doing your thing, I'm going to be doing my own thing,” she snaps, tossing her ponytail over her shoulder with flair. “So shut up about what I'm wearing and get in the damn car.”
I can't help the way the corner of my lips tug upward, amused at the way she just left Ryder stunned. He blinks a few times before he gets back to himself.
“Well alright then.” He claps his hands together and heads for the car. A sleek, black Lincoln that Keagan had in his garage. We can't roll up in my truck or some strange van. Definitely can't drive up in an expensive sports car. The cheapest thing he had here was this thing, and it's not exactly screaming middle class or lower.
Hopefully the vehicle won't make Marcus too suspicious.
We all pile in, Ryder claiming the driver seat for once. He'd rather be on his bike, we all know it, but I guess even he gets tired of being chauffeured around in a car.
His grip is lazy on the wheel, one hand in the middle and the other on the gear shift. It's obvious Ryder hasn't driven a car in a while by the way we jerk out of the driveway, but once we hit the highway, he's got a better handle of the vehicle.
The bar comes into view within ten minutes. It's on the outskirts of the city, away from prying eyes. We don't need to be noticed by anyone. Not the cops or any of the Niners.
The parking lot is pretty full, a good sign. I was hoping this wasn't a place that was always dead, and with a crowd, we'd blend right in. No one would notice if we took him out.
I spot Marcus the second we enter the dimly lit establishment. He's in the booth we told him to be in, sipping a beer. He doesn't look worried, his posture relaxed.
He clearly doesn't know this is a set-up.
My eyes scan the rest of the room, noting every exit, every table, and everyone standing. We'll have to be careful when we take him out.
With a nod to one another, we become like shadows, blending into the dark and dispersing the moment we notice him. Marisol struts right for him, smiling and greeting him sweetly. He stands, offering her a quick side hug, which she is kind enough to reciprocate.
Thank you, Marisol. I know I owe you one.
They take their seats and within minutes, drinks are brought out. Ryder does his thing, casually and inconspicuously tripping a waitress with a handful of beverages. They shatter all over the floor as they fall off the tray. And then… he’s nowhere to be seen. A Casper that likes to cause mischief.
The spill is enough to make Marcus look away momentarily, just as planned. Marisol takes the opportunity to slip the drug we gave her into his drink.
The liquid turns a slightly darker shade, but not noticeable enough for the naked eye.
I keep tabs from the bar, my back turned toward the table so it doesn't seem like I'm watching the pair. I'm sure Marcus would catch on.
Ryder has returned, casually sipping a whiskey as he leans against the bar. Blaze approaches shortly after, and although we shouldn't be, we're all together.
The attention of the women around us grows too great, but thankfully, Marcus has downed his drink like a champ. Just a few minutes more and he'll be unable to put up much of a fight.
At the first sign of Marcus wobbling, we head for the table. Marisol is quick to her feet, apologizing and telling him she has to use the restroom. He stands, wobbling as the room more than likely spins for him.
Ryder breaks away first, heading for the door. I'm behind Marcus in seconds, holding him steady as if I'm a supporting friend and not a soon to be man-napper.
Blaze follows from behind, not wanting to let Marcus see him. It would be all too obvious, too alarming for Marcus. We're tempting fate with me by his side.
Marcus may be drugged up, but he's still an intelligent guy and he knows that being dragged out of here won't end well for him. He tries to fight, but I just grip him tighter, knowing he doesn't have the strength to slip away.
His nails dig into my forearm as he claws at me, desperate. He's losing energy fast, though, the drug working its magic, turning his movements sluggish and jerky. Outside, Ryder waits with the Lincoln, the back door open.
With a firm shove, Marcus falls face first into the seat, and we climb in behind him. Ryder takes off like Batman chasing after the Joker. Only we're not superheroes, and we're not on our way to save someone. In fact, the opposite. We're on our way to torture someone.
Although I guess, in the end, we are saving Vic.
So, yeah, okay.
Superheroes with dark tactics.
We don't bother tying Marcus up. He can't move anyway. The drive back is long and quiet. We're all lost in our thoughts, our anger.
When Ryder pulls up to the abandoned house we found earlier today, we all get out. No words are spoken as we head inside, Marcus being dragged along by me and Blaze.
The door opens with a creak and we carry him into the house, not stopping until we're in the basement.
The lights are dim, the room cool.
It's time.
I'm going to get all the answers I need. Marcus won't hold a damn thing back by the time I'm done with him.
“Tie him down. We'll have to sober him up a bit before we can get straight answers from him,” Blaze instructs us.
Blaze may hate his brother, but I know he won't be comfortable torturing him. I told him we'd rough Marcus up a bit but nothing too damaging.
That's a fucking lie, but I needed him on board.
I won't make him be a part of it, but it's fucking happening.
Ryder tosses me rope from across the table and we tie Marcus down to it. His arms are tied to his side as we wrap his torso with rope around the table and tie it tight.
Good. His hands are still accessible.
Blaze sticks Marcus with a needle, injecting him with a counter for the drug. A few minutes later, Marcus comes to with a groan. His arms struggle to move, his brow furrowing and his eyes still closed.
Oh so slowly, he peels his eyes open, blinking into consciousness. He thrashes against the table, trying with all his might to get loose, but he's not going anywhere. His eyes scan his surroundings, finding Ryder, meeting my gaze, but then landing and staying on Blaze.
“And here I thought you couldn't get any worse.” Marcus lays his head back, ceasing his futile attempts at escaping. It's clear his words are meant for Blaze, but he could be talking to all three of us as a gang.
“And I thought you couldn't get any dumber. Yet here you lay, tied to a table without much effort on our part,” Blaze bites back, his arms crossed as he leans against the far wall.
“Do what you like, you're not getting shit from me.” Marcus clenches his jaw as if he could screw it shut.
“Trust me. I'm great at making people talk,” I threaten, leaning over the table to stare right into his eyes. He doesn't flinch, but soon he will.
“Why did Tori make us leave the restaurant? What does Nico have on her?” Ryder is the first to get to the point, asking the question that's burning through us all.
Marcus scoffs as if we're imbeciles. “She made you leave ‘cause she doesn't love you. She said it herself.”
“Fuck off, Marcus. We know that's not true,” Blaze snaps, pushing off the wall and making his way toward the table.
“What's wrong, Blaze? Can't handle not being loved? You would think you’d be used to it by now.” Marcus laughs, short and callous, not a laugh at all but more of a mocking sound.
Blaze fists his hands, the hurt digging deep inside and seeping out in fury. “Start talking, Marcus. You're testing my patience.”
“Oh, I can talk, brother . I could talk for hours about how dad hated you. Or maybe you'd like to hear about the time he told me he wished you were never born,” Marcus taunts, a confident smirk growing.
I'll cut you so bad, you won't be able to smile for the rest of your life.
Marcus made a stupid mistake, and he realizes it as Blaze's fist meets his face. The crunch is loud in the rather quiet room, the blood pooling in the back of his throat from his nose. Marcus turns his head and spits it out on Blaze's shoes.
At this point, Blaze might just be okay with torturing him.
“I might not be our father's favorite, but we both know you're still living in my shadow, even with his love.” Blaze leans in, his expression so cold it cools the whole damn room. “I'm stronger. I'm smarter. I'm more successful. In one year, I can accomplish more than you can in a decade. So let's not make this a pissing contest, little brother. I will win.”
“Not that it was ever a competition. We know we have the superior brother,” Ryder cuts in, placing his hand on Blaze’s shoulder. “I mean fuck, Marcus, you weren't even smart enough to attend the same school as us.”
“Enough. We're not here for this shit.” My irritation grows as we continue to get off topic. “Tell us how Nico is making Tori stay with him!”
“You're not getting shit from me, Thorne. Do what you want. I am not saying a word,” he says, his tone firm and determined.
But he doesn't realize just how wrong he is.
Ryder laughs, dark and ominous, like some demon playing with its food before consuming it whole. “You think you can handle what we're about to do to you? Little baby Marcus? Please. I bet you break by the time we pull your third nail off.”
Marcus shifts, a clear fear for his well-being growing inside him, but he keeps his facial features schooled. He doesn't give away exactly how scared he is, but I know in just a few minutes he'll be screaming for us to stop.
Ryder tosses me a hammer and a tack, his expression stone. Blaze stands to the side, watching as I take the tack and point it beneath the nail of his index finger.
This is going to be a long night, and I'm going to enjoy every fucking second of it.
Marcus groans, his body trying to thrash, but he can't do shit.
My adrenaline is pumping, the power coursing through my veins. I'm the one in control. Marcus is helpless, trapped, at my mercy.
And I have none.
I tap the tack with a hammer, pushing harder until the nail gives way and the tack stays firmly planted beneath.
Marcus groans louder, the sound music to my ears. I'm tempted to cut his damn finger off and shove it down his throat, but I know that's not what Blaze would want.
So instead, I'll break him.
Slowly and painfully.
Until he has nothing left to give.
The pain is unbearable, the feeling of your bones cracking, the agony of your muscles ripping. I'll give all that to him. My present.
For all the years of Blaze's torment. All his suffering. For helping Nico keep Tori from me. For thinking this would be easy.
He'll feel everything he deserves and then some. Because the devil isn't here to stop me. And the angels have left me.
I dig back into the torture with a smile so wide I am sure I looked possessed, pushing a tack under another nail. "The moment you tell us what we want to hear is the moment this stops."
"Go to hell!" he spits.
"I've already been there. It's not as hot as you would think." I place another tack under his thumb nail, his fingers looking irritated and bloody.
Marcus is trying hard not to scream. He's gritting his teeth so tightly I swear they will shatter. But the moment I go for the fourth, his screams fill the room.
It's a beautiful sound. One that has my heart pounding. The rush is euphoric. He's in so much pain, and there's not a thing he can do about it.
I can see why the devil is such a sadist.
“Start talking and I'll take them out,” I offer, pressing the tack lightly against his fingertip.
“Don't you know, Thorne?” Ryder interrupts, his grin so wide you'd think he was about to blow out birthday candles. "He said he isn't going to talk. Isn't that right, Marcus?"
Marcus shoots him a deadly glare from the table, eyes on fire, a mixture of pain and pure rage.
"That just means I need to make him want to talk," I growl menacingly, placing the hammer down and reaching for the pliers. "How do you feel about fingers, Ryder?"
"I hate them. They always get in the way when I'm trying to eat."
Marcus tugs harder at his restraints, his panic clearly growing. He knows what we're about to do, and there's not a thing he can do to stop it.
"Well then, maybe we can cut them off."
Marcus thrashes more, the rope holding his torso down rubbing his skin raw. He's going to bleed if he doesn't calm down.
"I'd hate for that to happen. How would he jack off?" Ryder adds, making my lips tug higher.
"It's really simple, Marcus. You give us what we want and we'll let you go," Blaze finally speaks, his tone low and dark. "You don't owe Nico anything."
"Fuck off!" he yells, fisting his hands as if that could save him.
"This is me trying to save you, little brother. Are you really ready to lose appendages for this guy?" Blaze continues, oddly trying to help the guy he's hated all his life.
But I guess it's never really been Marcus' fault. The two have been pitted against each other thanks to their dad and Marcus' mother.
"Like you care," Marcus spits out, but his attention is on me and the knife drawing near.
"Have it your way."
I let the blade kiss his skin, running it along the back of his hand. There's no force behind it, since I'm not trying to break skin here. Instead, I lift the blade and run it along his neck, down his collar bone and just above where the rope bites his skin. He stops breathing, and I know I've found my spot.
Slowly, with meticulous precision, I dig the blade in, making sure not to cut too deep. I don't need him bleeding out before he's told us what we need to know.
Marcus grits his teeth, refusing to give us the satisfaction. I press the blade in a little further, watching as blood bubbles up around the knife, trailing down his skin.
"I'm giving you one more chance. Tell me what Nico has on our girl or the blade goes deeper," I growl.
He's silent, his body still, his breath controlled.
Fine.
With a flick of my wrist, I make the cut longer, the gash running across his chest. He sucks in a breath, his body reacting involuntarily.
I'm definitely enjoying this more than I should be, but Marcus is getting the blunt end of my frustration, my unbridled fury. He may not be the one that kidnapped her, but he's helping Nico, and that's all the reason I need to draw blood.
An hour passes and I've carved enough superficial lacerations that his skin looks more like tree bark. I'll admit I'm impressed with how long he's lasted. All we've managed to get out of him is that Nico isn't keeping her in the asylum anymore.
"He has her at the house. Great. But she's not going to come with us until we know what's keeping her there," Ryder sighs in frustration. Even he has grown tired of this game. It's no fun when they don't squirm the way we want. "Come on, Marcus, just tell us already."
"I can't tell you."
"Why not? You can't possibly think Nico will protect you after this," I argue.
"He'll kill me."
"We'll do a lot worse," Blaze promises, leaning over the table once more. His eyes narrow on his brother, bruised, bleeding, sweating. It's all mixing together around him, glistening against the dim light.
"Here," Ryder calls out, tossing Blaze a bottle of rubbing alcohol. "Gotta keep those wounds sterile."
Blaze doesn't even blink as he opens the bottle and mercilessly pours it over his brother's torso. Marcus screams, quickly closing his mouth as he tries to silence himself.
"Just say it. We've kept your wounds mostly hidden. Nico doesn't have to know you told us," I add, because the fun is vanishing and I need Vic back now.
"But we can make it obvious if you want." Ryder shrugs like it's no skin off our backs, because it really isn't. "Then it really wouldn't matter if you told us or not. Nico wouldn't believe you."
Marcus blanches, knowing what Ryder is saying is nothing short of the truth. Blaze pours more alcohol over the wounds and Marcus squirms beneath the rope.
"Fine!" he yells, and my heart jolts.
All three of us lean over him, so desperate to hear what he has to say I'm surprised he doesn't realize how much power he holds right now.
"Nico has a video he's doctored to make it look like you killed Bren," he breathes out, his gaze landing on his brother.
"Bullshit. We never killed that sorry piece of shit. Even though I wanted to," Ryder scoffs, pushing off the table and losing interest entirely.
Marcus is stringing us along.
"I know that. That's why I said ‘doctored’." Marcus shakes his head like he's talking to a pair of imbeciles. "He's using that video to keep Alicia on his side."
"Alicia?" I question, almost forgetting she was the reason any of this happened.
"Yeah. She came looking for answers about Bren, and Nico saw... an opportunity," Marcus continued, furrowing his brow like he's trying to understand it all himself.
If I was furious before, then I don't know what the fuck I am now, because the anger firing up inside me is unlike anything I've ever felt.
"She was in on kidnapping Tori?!" I fume, my hands fisting so tightly I can feel my short nails biting into my skin.
"Not exactly. But she is why Tori is staying. Nico has her believing that he'll hurt Alicia if she doesn't do what he says. Alicia has been pretending to be hurt," Marcus finishes.
I can't feel my legs, the fury and adrenaline pumping so fast I can't even control my body. I can't fucking see anything, a blackness taking over my sight as the anger consumes me.
My fist slams into the brick wall, my body acting before I can think. I'm lost in my anger, a monster unleashing.
Alicia is Vic's only family.
This is going to destroy her.
"Great. So we get Alicia first, then Tori. Once we get both girls, we'll let Tori know what a snake Alicia is and let our girl go wild." Ryder nods like he's come up with some genius plan.
"Where is he keeping Alicia?" Blaze asks, his body so rigid you'd think he was frozen inside.
"The asylum."
"Thanks, brother." Blaze condescendingly pats Marcus on the cheek. "We'll be back with Marisol. She'll patch you up and let you go. Don't underestimate her. She'll kill you faster than any of us."
We leave him screaming on the table and send a text to Marisol. She responds quickly, and once she's here, we hand her the surgical glue, a gun, and a knife.
"Take care of his wounds. We'll head to the house to get the guys," I order, gesturing toward this house, where Marcus is still screaming to let him out. "When you're done, meet us there. Maybe suggest to him that he should stay gone till morning."
"Got it. So, we're finally rescuing this girl of yours, huh?"
"Yeah, finally."
We're coming for you, Vic. And this time, we're not failing.