Chapter 59
Fifty-Nine
“They took my light, thinking it would break me. But all they did was unleash the fucking darkness.”–Cyan MacBrady.
Time stretches thin as we wait in the darkness of Ethan’s apartment. The charged silence presses in. My phone buzzes in my pocket. Johnny’s name flashes on the screen.
Johnny: Ethan’s on his way up.
Adrenaline courses through my veins as I tuck the phone away.
“He’s coming.” My brothers nod. We mobsters breathe anticipation like oxygen.
Too bad for Ethan Monroe. This sniveling, ambitious fuck made the mistake of using my woman.
Tonight, he learns the cost of that decision.
There’s no walking away clean. Not after Olivia shot Gracie. Not after Aria was taken.
By the time I leave this apartment, every skeleton in Ethan’s closet will be dragged into the light.
He’ll finally understand why they call me The Púca.
He’s about to meet a nightmare. The sound of a key turning in the lock sets every nerve in my body on edge.
“Positions,” I command under my breath. Collin, Troy, and Thomas melt into the shadows.
I stay by the door, my hand closing around my hunting knife.
Ethan walks in, his gym bag slung over his shoulders, wearing headphones, music blasting, oblivious to anything beyond his own warped little world.
I watch him arm the security system, leftover paranoia from the beating Troy gave him.
Fool, he really thought this building would protect him.
He hangs his keys and flips on the light.
“Welcome to your nightmare.” Before the last syllable leaves my mouth, my blade cuts the air, slicing forward, its point delivering judgment, driving deep into Ethan’s shoulder.
“What the fuck!” he shrieks, stumbling back as the headphones crash to the floor. He reaches for his gun, too slow.
I slam him into the hallway wall, rip the weapon from his grip, and fling it across the room. He howls as I twist the knife, driving it deeper. “You made a mistake messing with my woman,” I growl. “I hope you enjoy pain, Ethan. Because I’m going to make every second count.”
He gasps and sucks in a quick breath. “I didn’t take her. I swear.”
“But you were involved. It was your contact who gave her the phone.”
“No.” His words rush out of him like vomit. “She wasn’t my contact. The FBI brought her in!”
“Then you’d better know something, because, whether you planned it or not, your actions helped my enemies take Aria. That means you’re already dead.” I lean closer. “The only question is fast or slow?”
Collin steps out of the darkness, his expression blank. The monster behind the pretty-boy smile is fully awake now. “You’ve heard whispers about my brother, haven’t you?” I nod toward him.
Ethan gulps, but to his credit, he doesn’t beg. He spits at my feet. “Fuck you. Men like you ruin the world. You’ll get nothing from me. You think this is the worst pain I’ve felt?”
I shrug. “For every action, there’s a reaction.” I drag him into the kitchen where everything’s ready: plastic sheets and rope, laid out with intention. This isn’t improvisation. It’s Col’s preparation. It’s time for the Executioner to come out and play.
Collin takes a seat at the table. “You’ll regret not talking by the time this is over. I’m going to peel your skin off, slow and neat.”
Ethan meets his gaze with defiance. Troy flicks on the dining light, and Ethan catches sight of the rope and lashes out, landing a punch to Troy’s injured side. That’s a big mistake.
Troy grunts, staggers half a step, then snarls grabbing Ethan and slams him onto the dining table.
Wood cracks under the impact. We bind him fast, with practiced efficiency while Collin opens his black bag and lays out each glinting instrument with surgical precision.
“Still sure you don’t want to talk?” Collin asks, his voice ice-cold.
“You all can fuck off to hell,” Ethan snarls. “I’ll take it to my grave. Aria made her choice. She lay down with the king of scum.” I twist the knife buried in his shoulder. He howls, and Thomas tapes his mouth shut before the neighbors get curious
Collin slips off his jacket, rolls up his sleeves, and pulls on black vinyl gloves. He lifts a scalpel, weighing it like an artist choosing a brush. “Don’t worry, this won’t kill you. That would be too kind.”
He holds up a syringe filled with clear liquid. “This will heighten your pain response, though. Enjoy.” The needle slides in. Collin taps his phone, setting a timer. “Play Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony,” Collin says.
The opening notes flood the room—grand, and ominous. Collin steadies Ethan’s hand, isolating the little finger. The blade hovers for a heartbeat.
Then it descends; the first cut is clean and precise.
The scalpel glides through flesh like silk.
Collin switches tools without looking, peeling skin back with the care of a practiced surgeon.
Like removing the skin from a grape without piercing the fruit.
Blood wells. Ethan thrashes, muffled screams tearing behind the tape.
Collin never flinches. Beethoven swells, its elegance warping into a monstrous symphony of agony. I know this. This is only the warm-up.
Thirty minutes later, Ethan’s hand is stripped clean, from fingertips to wrist. I don’t know how Collin avoids anything vital. The perfectionist finally sets the scalpel down, peels off his gloves, silences the music and reaches into his bag again.
“This is morphine,” Collin says, displaying the full syringe. “It’ll dull the pain. Whether you get it depends on you. The next round goes for forty-five minutes. Every round after that, we add fifteen.”
Ethan’s pupils are wide open as he starts frantic head shaking. Guess all that bravado from before is gone. His breathing turns sharp, erratic. A desperate sound pushes against the tape. Thomas rips the tape free.
“You’re a fucking psycho!” Ethan gasps. “You’ll pay for this!”
I lean in close. “Ethan, you see what Collin can do. He can keep you alive for weeks.” My tone is dead calm. “I’ll ask you one last time. What do you know about the woman who took Aria?”
Ethan pants, sweat slicking his skin. “I’ll never give you what you want.
Do your worst.” I nod once. Collin pulls on a fresh pair of gloves and picks up the scalpel.
Ethan’s eyes track every movement now, panic bleeding through bravado.
His breathing stutters in and out. “I don’t know who she is!
” he blurts. “I didn’t know Aria would get hurt! ”
Collin presses the blade just above the skin, pausing. “This is your last chance,” he says under his breath. “Talk.”
Ethan breaks. “She was brought in as a CI,” he rushes out. “Agent Alex. Confidential informant. That’s all I know. I swear.”
My patience snaps. At any other time, I’d let Collin keep going.
I don’t have time. Aria could be–no. I squeeze that shit out of my mind before it finishes.
I pull out my gun, shove Collin aside, and fire.
The gunshot cracks through the apartment.
The bullet tears into Ethan’s kneecap. He screams, body arching in pure agony.
“Ah—fuck! You bastard!”
I grab his collar and drag his face close to mine. “You think I have time for your bullshit?” I hiss. “Start talking, or I’ll ruin you in ways you can’t imagine.”
He gasps, teeth chattering. “A life for a life. Your woman’s life for mine.”
“Keep going,” I growl, tightening my grip.
His bravado collapses. “Your word,” he pants. “Once I tell you… please. Let me go.”
I nod once. He won’t die. Not yet. But I’ll collect my pound of flesh. “I’ve been following Olivia,” he rushes out. “It’s leverage to protect myself.” His head lolls. “I know where she lives… west side. Apartment. The flash drive’s in the right leg of the stool. Everything you need is there.”
“Col, stabilize him.”
Collin moves, wrapping Ethan’s shattered leg with surgical precision as I cross the room. I find the flash drive exactly where he said and jam it into the laptop. A password prompt flashes. “Ethan,” I bark. “The password.”
“The Ten Irish Fists,” he groans.
I type it in. That he used our family name makes bile rise in my throat. He wanted to bring us down; we are his obsession. Now it’s going to cost him everything.
Files load—names, addresses, photos and right away I forward the info to Jake. We’ll know who she is within the hour. Please let this be the lifeline that leads me to Aria. I walk back to where Collin is finishing up with Ethan.
“Troy,” I say without looking up from my phone. “Stay here. Call Trent for cleanup. Take him to the tunnels. Get Amir to patch him up. He needs to stay alive.”
“You got it, C.” Troy’s already dialing.
“You promised,” Ethan wheezes. “A life for a life!”
I turn to him. “Aye. You’re alive. For now.” I lean closer. “But until Aria’s safe in my arms? Your life stays on the table. If your information pans out, I’ll personally release you.”
“You fuckin—.”
“Someone tape his mouth shut,” I order. As Troy moves, I look to Thomas, and Collin lets go. Jake’s meeting us at Olivia’s address.”
Collin, Thomas, and I head for the elevator when my phone buzzes again. I pull it out. Lorenzo.
The moment I see his name; my gut turns to stone. I swipe to answer, my voice dropping into a low growl. “What do you want?”
Lorenzo’s voice slides through the line, smug and satisfied. “I have something of yours.” Then I hear it. Aria’s scream, torn straight from her chest. The sound shreds me. My blood freezes, then boils all at once.
“I’m going to rip you apart,” I snarl, barely holding myself together.
He laughs. “A car will wait outside your towers at dawn. Be in it, or she comes back to you in pieces.” The line goes dead. Another notification hits before I can breathe. A text comes through, I open it.
Lorenzo:
Cyan, my boy. It’s simple. Bring yourself to me at dawn. Her life for yours. If you don’t, you’ll get more videos like this. She’ll suffer. This is your only chance to save her.
A video, I tap it; she is tied to a chair.
One of Lorenzo’s men presses her palm flat against a table.
Another hand moves toward her, holding a nail gun.
The crack of its discharge is brutal as the nail drives straight through her hand, pinning her to the table.
The phone slips from my fingers and hits the floor as she cries out.
“Fuck!” I slam my fist into the wall. Again, again red dots bloom across the wall, but I don’t stop. Can’t stop. A door creaks open and immediately slams shut. Arms wrap around me. Collin drags me back.
“Fucking hell,” Thomas mutters, staring at the message, the video. I hear her scream again in my head. It’s too much. Collin releases me and takes the phone from Thomas.
“This is a fucking trap, Cyan. You’re not doing this. Right?” My legs give out. I slide down the wall, head falling into my hands as Aria’s screams echo again, a permanent clog in my brain. I’ve failed her. I’ve failed again.
“Cyan. You know trading yourself won’t bring her back. Lorenzo will kill you both. You die, and we lose everything. Our revenge, our family and you. All gone.”