Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
NOAH
I’m standing in the “holding pen”, which is the name of the torture basement at the Kozlov brothers’ mansion.
Ivan managed to track down the motherfucker who hit Tyler through some old contacts, one of which works with The Serpents.
He happens to hate the guy we are about to destroy, so was very willing to spill the tea on the fucker we are about to hurt.
The gossip is so crazy, that this guy won’t know how lucky he is that it’s us that found out before his own Prez of his plans, because what we will do to him is nothing compared to what I know The Serpents would have done if they had got to him before us.
But I’m gonna play with him first before I drop that little piece of information.
The dickface is restrained to a metal chair bolted to the floor.
His wrists are zip-tied to the armrests, ankles secured to the chair legs.
He's conscious but groggy, I watched as Ivan used the ketamine during the extraction.
Enough to disorient, but not enough to dull pain receptors.
His name is Ollie Broman, approximately thirty-two years old and around five-foot nine, one hundred and eight pounds with the Serpents tattoo on his left forearm.
His breathing is elevated, but he is working hard to control it to not give away fear.
His pupils are dilated and his eyes keep searching around the room, probably looking for possible weaknesses and escape routes. There are none.
I stand ten feet away, observing, as I know Ivan will want to be part of the main show since it is his man laying in hospital.
It doesn’t stop me from being selfish though, I want a piece of action for the distress he has caused my man too.
I don’t feel any guilt about why this has happened, as it’s part of the world.
Doesn’t matter if you are involved in the work or not, friends and family are at high risk too.
Ivan circles the chair slowly, his movements more theatrical than what I’ve seen him do before. But he's enjoying this, the power dynamic and the knowledge of what's coming. This is personal so it feels different. This guy hurt someone he cares for and the reaction will always be more sadistic.
"Ollie Broman," Ivan says. "Do you know why you're here?"
Ollie spits blood onto the concrete. "Fuck you."
"Wrong answer." Ivan glances at me. "Noah, would you like to explain?"
I step forward into the light and Ollie’s eyes track my movement, and I see the moment recognition hits not of who I am, but of what I am.
Chase has mentioned it to me many times that this reaction is due to the feeling of wrongness I portray.
A shell without a soul that a normal, emotional, functioning human would pick up on as it’s abnormal.
I know he has seen bad people before, but this will be different.
"Someone close to you confirmed you struck a man named Tyler Blackford before you fled the scene. We heard you were ordered to take him out in retaliation of the murder of that piece of shit from your club, who was a fucking thief, by the way."
Ollie’s jaw tightens. "Don't know what you're talking about."
"Yes, you do." I move closer, studying his face. "Tyler also happens to be Chase's brother. Chase is my man, which means you hurt something that belongs to me."
"I don't know any fucking guy called Chase."
I drive my fist into his stomach and the air leaves his lungs in a rush. He gasps, choking, his body convulsing against the restraints.
"Don't lie, it wastes time," I say calmly.
Ivan laughs in a low, demonic sound. I step back, giving Ollie time to recover his breath. He's wheezing, tears streaming down his face from the impact. Excellent. Pain focuses the mind.
"The whole thing was payback for the man killed at the Blackrose Saints clubhouse. You were told to send a message to the Kozlovs by targeting someone connected to us, an easy target."
Ollie glares at me through watering eyes. "You're gonna kill me anyway, why should I tell you shit?"
"Because," Ivan says, moving to a metal table against the wall, "how you die depends on what you tell us. And when."
He selects a knife from the array of tools laid out from his very own torture collection. Ivan is known to invent his own devices, but he doesn’t appear to be in the test mood today. He holds up a knife to the light, examining the blade.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Ivan murmurs. "German steel. Holds an edge perfectly."
I watch Ollie’s face, his breathing is more rapid, his brow is sweaty and skin pale. The reality of his situation is settling in.
"I'm going to ask you questions," I say. "You're going to answer them, and if you lie, I'll know. If you refuse, Ivan will hurt you. If you cooperate, this ends quickly."
"And if I don't cooperate?"
"Then it doesn't end quickly," Ivan says as he moves behind Ollie, trailing the knife along his shoulders with a mild pressure, hinting at what’s to come.
"Who ordered the hit?" I ask.
"Fuck you."
I nod to Ivan.
The knife slices through Ollie's shirt, exposing his back. Ivan makes the first cut, which is shallow along the shoulder blade. Ollie jerks against the restraints, hissing through his teeth.
"That's one," Ivan says pleasantly. "I can do this all night."
"Who ordered the hit?" I repeat.
Ollie's breathing is ragged now. "You're dead men, The Serpents will…”
Another cut is performed by Ivan but deeper this time, and Ollie screams. I wait for the sound to fade, but the loud idiot keeps whimpering.
"The Serpents won’t do shit, because they weren’t the ones to order the hit, were they?” Ollie freezes to the point he may not be breathing. Such a little liar.
“You see, we spoke to the Prez of your club, and he had no idea what we were talking about. Not until one of your haters from the gang spilled information that a little group of you were planning to branch out on your own, abandoning your club, breaking your vows. And if that wasn’t dumb enough, you decided to steal off the Kozlov patch. ”
“What? Who told you that?” he asks, his voice timid and shocked as if he were betrayed.
‘It doesn’t matter now. All I want is names. Who gave the order?"
I leave the question hanging in the air as I watch this traitor try to make up either a lie or tell the truth. Weighing his options, like the result will be any different to death.
"Vincent," Ollie gasps. "Vincent Calabrese, he runs our operations."
"Where is he?"
"Warehouse in the Red Zone.”
"Address."
"347 Braunting Street. Second floor."
I pull out my phone, typing the information. A quick search confirms the location exists and I nod to Ivan.
"He's telling the truth."
Ivan makes another cut, this one across Ollie's ribs. The scream is louder this time, more desperate.
"Who else was involved in planning Tyler's hit?"
Ollie is crying now, his body going into shock. "Just Vincent and me. He said…he said it was supposed to be a warning, to hurt him enough to send a message. He wanted to start a war between the Kozlovs and Serpents so we could leave the club unnoticed and start our own crew."
"Do you know how stupid you sound right now? You hit him with a fucking car," I say, my voice still perfectly calm. "That’s not a warning, that's attempted murder."
"I didn’t mean to, I panicked."
"And now you have to deal with the fallout."
I select a pair of pliers from the table that are medical grade, designed for precision.
Ollie sees them and starts thrashing against the restraints. "No…no, please…I told you everything!”
"I know." I move to stand in front of him. "But this isn't about information anymore. This is about consequences."
I grab his left hand, forcing it flat against the armrest. His fingers are trembling.
"Tyler is in a hospital bed right now," I say, positioning the pliers around his index finger. "He might not survive."
"I'm sorry," he cries.
"You're not sorry." I apply pressure. "You're scared, there's a difference."
I pull and the fingernail tears free with a wet, ripping sound. Ollie’s scream is like nothing I have ever heard as blood wells from the exposed nail bed.
Ivan watches with glee. "Beautiful technique, Noah."
"Stop it, Ivan. Don’t make it weird,” I say just as the door in the pen slams behind me."
“What the fuck is going on!” Dima bellows as Lev and Jules storm in behind him. Ah. They didn’t know.
“What the fuck does it look like? I’m making the fucker pay for what he did to Ty,” Ivan berates, as he walks over to Dima, ready for a fight.
“Ivan, I get you are angry,” Dima says, trying to calm him, but it has the opposite effect.
“Angry? I’m far from fucking angry, D. I’m so far gone in revenge there is no way back. And don’t give me shit about wars, because if this was Seb or Aaron, you two would have had us picking this fucker up for you.”
I turn and watch the interaction as Dima wars with himself because he knows Ivan is right. Lev is scowling, but lowers his head, rubbing his forehead in contemplation. Jules steps forward and places a hand on Ivan’s shoulder.
“There is a way we do this,” Jules says, and Ivan pushes his arm away.
“Yeah, and what way would that be if this happened to your Kai?”
“Look, I understand,” Dima starts, but Ivan is having none of it.
“No…you’re meant to be family, but where is the fucking support? Noah never questioned me once.”
“That’s because he’s a fucking psycho, he doesn’t care, Ivan,” Lev says, and I smirk at him.
“Are we finishing this or what, as I want to get back to the hospital,” I say as everyone looks at me.
“I didn’t know you were so close to Ty?” Lev says, his voice laced with what I’ve come to recognize as sarcasm.
“I’m fucking close to his brother who is there with him. Not his extended family who didn’t even show up when Tyler was in surgery. Where were you all, by the way?” I say as Lev starts to come toward me, no doubt wanting to hit me.
“Not now!” Dima shouts.
“Just get it done, Ivan, but you deal with the mess,” Dima says.