Chapter 26
Sebastian
“I’ve always heard you enjoy tying up your toys,” Arthur says, licking at the blood on the corner of his mouth.
A smile stretches on my lips. “Yeah, and where’d you hear that from? The little goons you would send to my college campus to follow me around?”
He pulls at his restraints, his arms stretching from where he’s being held up on the warehouse hook.
He grunts when it’s as fruitless as his other attempts before turning to glare at me.
“What’s your plan, James? Just gonna leave me here until your daddy comes to sort it all out for you like always? ”
I raise an eyebrow and then laugh. “Oh, that’s cute. You think I’ve gone rogue? That I wasn’t granted permission to parade you around like the pig you are?”
“That’s treason,” Arthur snarls. “Christian wouldn’t allow it.”
Shrugging, I pull the cart in the corner closer. “Treason? That doesn’t apply to traitors and the proof of your betrayal has been shown to Christian.”
“What proof? You have nothing.”
I roll my eyes. “This is where I launch into a long speech, blah blah. I found you communicating with the Italians to help plant spies and disrupt Irish deliveries, so they could help you take over Chicago when you make your move.”
There’s a tense silence as Arthur’s breathing picks up, his chest rising and falling faster in quick pants. “That’s impossible.”
Tilting my head to the side, I stare at him. “Which part? That you’re a traitor or that I have proof?”
“All of it! I demand to speak to Christian.”
I tongue my cheek, debating if I should grant him this request before pulling out my phone and dialing the very man while leaving it on speaker.
“Bastian, do you have any idea what fucking time it is?”
Glancing at my watch, I calculate the hours in my head and chuckle. “Don’t act like you don’t have a whore in your bed right now.”
Christian ignores the comment. “What do you want?”
“Arthur doesn’t believe you’d sanction my little craft project.”
“And I give a fuck why?”
“To crush a dying man’s last hope?” I say with a frown.
Christian is silent for a moment before he laughs. “Tell the bastard I’ve been salivating for the chance to get rid of him. He’s caused too many of my men and too much of my money to dwindle to nothing.”
“Thanks, buddy. TTYL,” I say cheerily.
“James—” I hang up, knowing that the next time I see him, Christian will probably punch me in the face.
I smile at Arthur, taunting him by waving my phone around. “Anything to say now?”
He doesn’t, just stares defiantly at me. Annoyed, I push my phone back into my pocket and shrug.
“Okay then.” I let out a whistle, waving my hand at the door behind me. “You can come play if you want, boys.”
Luca walks in with a grim expression, followed silently by Rian. I’m honestly impressed the two managed to stay civil until I called them in.
Arthur’s chains rattle as he realizes who is walking in. His pupils widen, looking between the three of us with a barely concealed fear.
“See the thing is… if you had just kept your little tantrum to Chicago, you probably would have met death at the end of my barrel. But I’m a generous person, the Irish and Italians deserve a little retribution,” I explain.
Rian walks toward him and Arthur trembles.
It brings a smile to my face. Someone had grown too confident, thinking my father wouldn’t hurt him, but he forgot there are others out there that have no such problem.
Moving to the cart, Rian browses the tools before picking up a large knife.
He moves to Arthur, gripping the edge of his shirt and slicing it open.
Arthur’s stomach flexes when Rian presses the tip of the knife onto his skin.
“Here’s the deal. You tell us what you know, and we’ll keep it short. But if you don’t…” Rian lingers, looking back to Luca and me. “Then we all get a turn.”
I bare my teeth. “And just because I prefer to keep my hands clean, don't think my father hasn’t taught me a few things.”
Luca snickers under his breath.
Rian rolls his eyes, pressing the knife hard enough for a bead of blood to appear.
“Let’s start with the easy one. Who approached you about betraying the Outfit? Was he Irish or Italian? FBI?”
Arthur glances between us, his jaw tight as he remains silent.
With a hum, Rian nods and moves to Arthur’s side, pushing the sides of the shirt off him. “I was hoping you'd be resistant.”
He moves the knife up to Arthur’s sternum. “There’s an old Celtic tradition for dethroning kings, especially false kings, by ridding them of their nipples,” Rian says, the violent threat darkening his voice as he circles the offending puckered skin on Arthur’s chest.
“Oh. We’re cutting off body parts? Hold on,” I taunt. Moving to the wall across from where we’re standing, I open a panel to expose an iron stove.
“What the fuck? Is that for cremation?” Rian asks.
I chuckle. “Now that would be cool.” Shoving wood in the compartment, I light it and grab a tungsten knife and place it on the burner.
I face the two men watching me curiously.
“Heat the blade, cauterize as you slice. Seals the wound and prevents them from bleeding out. Allows more time to inflict more wounds.”
Luca raises his eyebrows. “Your father is sick.”
Rian grins. “I’ll have to show Cillian this set up.”
The fermented smell of piss saturates the air around us and I grimace. Rian sighs, moving back in front of Arthur.
“That’s what scares you? A James party trick? Pathetic.”
Arthur spits in his face. “He’ll kill you all. You think you’re better than everyone, but you’re just as clueless as the rest of them. Chasing pussy instead of building our world to its former glory.”
Luca clicks his tongue. “That’s the problem with you traditionalists. You can’t see past your pride to realize we can be better. We can be stronger, wealthier, and thriving while men aren’t dying to useless street wars or jailed by overzealous agencies.”
He moves closer to Arthur, grabbing a rubber mallet and slamming it into the hanging man’s side. I wince at the audible crack of ribs; breaking bones is not a sound you get used to.
“Ready to talk? I reckon that was only two, maybe three. We still have the other side,” Luca grits out, shaking out the hand that held the hammer.
Arthur’s face is twisted in pain as he tries not to breathe too hard. He turns his head to the side, glaring at Luca. It’s full of hatred and vitriol.
Luca stares back for a moment before facing me. “Is the knife ready? I remembered he doesn’t need his eyes to speak.”
With his color draining to a sick gray, he struggles at the knots around his wrist. “Don’t. Please, please.”
Rian’s mouth tilts up in the corner. “It’s humorous that he thinks there’s any chance he’ll leave this room alive.”
I hand gloves to Luca. “Put them on and grab the handle. Believe me, you don’t want it to slip and accidentally take out your own fingers.”
“Speaking from experience?” Rian drawls out.
“Not mine.” I nod for Luca to grab the knife and then I move over to Arthur. “Hold his head,” I direct Rian as I grab the lid speculums.
“Sebastian, please. Don’t do this,” Arthur begs as Rian holds his face, and I lean over to place the device.
I pause. “Who did you work with?”
“One of Moretti’s kids. I don’t remember his name. He barely spoke, we only relayed information back and forth. He’s the one who told me all the Irish times and dates.”
Rian growls. “What did he look like?”
“Dark hair, blue eyes. Jagged scar running from his ear down his neck.”
Luca walks closer. “Could be Stefano. I’ll round up all the Moretti bastards for good measure.”
“Is that including Gio?” Rian sneers.
Narrowing his stare, he disregards Rian’s question and nods at me to put the speculum in place.
“W-wait I told y-you,” Arthur cries.
Chuckling, I forcibly open his eyelids and leave the metal device in place that keeps them from closing. Arthur’s eyes shake as he struggles to fight the need to close his lids. “I’m sure you can think of more. Let’s see if this motivates you,” I say with a smirk.
I step out of the way for Luca to take my place, glancing away as he presses the top of the hot knife into Arhtur’s right eye.
Blood splatters out on Luca’s glove and Arthur’s face as the eye implodes immediately.
His scream echoes in the room, the harrowing sound settling deep in my chest. I’ve never been one to enjoy this type of stuff.
Luca finishes with the second eye, and the room falls silent.
Arthur is passed out, his face a mess, but the bleeding has already slowed.
Rian lets go, letting the hanging man’s head drop. “You got smelling salts?”
I nod, waving toward the cart as Luca puts the knife back on the stove and pulls off the gloves. Stepping out of the way, I watch as Rian takes the salts, shoving them under Arthur’s nose to jerk him awake. He tries to look around before his mouth opens and releases a sobbing plea.
“You’re going to tell us everything they asked for, every man you met, every person you ever talked to,” Rian says, grabbing the same hammer Luca had used. “And every time you hesitate, I’m going to break a bone in your body.”
Leaning against the wall, I cross my arms and let Rian work.
Luca eventually moves to stand next to me; apparently taking someone’s eyes was enough punishment for him.
I don’t know how long we stand, absorbing the information a crying Arthur confesses.
It only took two broken kneecaps and a few more ribs to get him going.
When Rian aims to crack his skull, I tsk my tongue.
“Ah, ah. The final blow is by my hand,” I say.
Rian drops his arms, panting before throwing the hammer on the cart. “By all means.”
I hold out the tongs for Rian, and grab one of the knives. “Pull his tongue out.”
A grin stretches on Rian’s lips and he obliges. Arthur’s muffled cry is music to my ears as I move closer.
“This has been a long time coming. You will not be missed, you will not be remembered, your name will disappear, and you’ll be forgotten.
Your legacy is nothing.” I slice through his tongue, making Rian stagger a step before he tosses the severed flesh to the ground in disgust. I yank Arthur’s head back by his hair, holding it there as he gargles the blood pooling in his throat.
His body jerks as he struggles for air, and I relish the sound until it stops and I let go.
I ignore the splashing blood that falls to the floor when Arthur’s limp head rolls to the side, and I toss the knife onto the cart before taking a large breath.
It’s silent for a moment, then I turn, glancing between the two men who are enemies at worst and potential acquaintances at best. “We good?”
Luca and Rian look at each other, and Luca is the first one to shrug. “For now.”
Rian nods. “For now.”