Chapter 6
Chapter
Six
VOODOO
We’d dragged Ignacio down to the basement because the concrete floor didn’t care what got spilled on it.
The old bulbs overhead buzzed with that sickly yellow glow that made everyone look jaundiced, but it was Grace I kept glancing at.
Her skin was ash-pale, eyes hollowed from reliving what this man had done.
She hugged her elbows like she was trying to hold herself together.
I wasn’t a fan of torture—never had been. But I was less of a fan of watching Grace flinch every time Ignacio breathed.
We’d already zip-tied him to the chair, plastic biting into his wrists. Ignacio’s shirt lay in a heap on the floor where Bones had cut it off. Without it, he looked small. Not weak—just suddenly mortal. Gooseflesh prickled up his arms in the damp chill.
Behind me, Bones paced, an unleashed predator ready to end Ignacio before this even began. Since I knew for a fact that he could stand motionless for hours without breaking a sweat, he was playing the part of psychological torturer. Worked for me.
“Bones,” I warned. His fists were already balling up.
The word and the tone were more for the show than because I wanted to actually keep Bones in check.
He was already doing that by putting me in charge of the interrogation.
If he handled it, Ignacio would be bloodied and unconscious before he could tell us a damn thing.
Alphabet crouched by the workbench, rummaging through the mess we’d improvised earlier.
Wires. A battered dog shock collar I’d found in the garage.
It was almost like Lunchbox was with us.
Or maybe it had been his idea, he and Alphabet had been texting.
That particular power pack had no business being attached to anything like a dog collar, but between them, they’d made it work.
Grace’s voice came out thin. “You’re going to talk.” Her eyes never left Ignacio. “I don’t care if you make it easy on yourself.” That little gem almost made me smile. “In fact,” she continued. “You should definitely resist as hard as you can.”
Because it would hurt him so much more. Ah, my firecracker was a brilliant starburst ready to explode.
Ignacio lifted his chin, a sneer curling his lip. As shows of defiance went. It was pathetic, but he spat before he said. “You think you scare me, pet? I’ve—”
“No,” I said, stepping into his line of sight, because if I let him finish the thought, I’d be the one killing him. Pet. He called her pet. Bastard was going to lose his tongue when he was done telling us what we needed to know. “You’re already terrified. I can work with that.”
The son of a bitch was the worst kind of bully. The kind that flexed his power over people smaller than him, physically weaker, or who held less control. His power stood atop a house of cards, wherein those beneath it were weaker, and he never tested himself against those of like size or ability.
Too bad for him, he was about to find out he’d been punching way above his weight class with Grace.
His scowl darkened as he glared up at me. Yet, look, he went mute when I met him stare for stare. Nothing about him frightened me. When I held out my hand, Alphabet moved.
Ignacio flinched when Alphabet put the collar in my hand. Not much—just a twitch—but enough to confirm every suspicion I’d had about how he’d act under pressure. The low, humorless and dark chuckle Bones let out was the thing of nightmares based on how our guest blanched.
“Low setting’s a tap.” Alphabet set the modified unit in my hand.
“Medium setting, it’s a little glitchy, sometimes goes low, sometimes high.
High setting… don’t use high unless you really mean it.
” There was a kind of brutal glee in the way Alphabet delivered the instructions.
He kept his tone even and his cadence moderate as he listed off each one like this was basic tech support.
“Got it.”
I was rather looking forward to high.
I slipped the collar around Ignacio’s neck. Felt his pulse racing under my knuckles. He tried to mask it with a smirk, but his breath stuttered when the latch clicked shut. I gave it one tug to make sure it was secure, then turned to meet Grace’s gaze.
“You don’t have to be here for this.” I kept it a murmur. I didn’t expect her to go, and she had every right to be here. But there was nothing wrong with her choosing to leave either.
“I do,” she said, trembling just once, then steadying herself. “He took something from me. I want him to know what that feels like.”
Ignacio’s eyes darted to her as I returned my attention to him. For the first time since he woke up, I saw fear flare—raw and unmistakable.
Good.
I canted my head to the side. I could crouch, give him the illusion of power by putting his head above mine. But no, he was in a room with predators far more dangerous than he could ever imagine or pretend. It was time he learned what that meant.
The remote dangled loose between my fingers. “You’ll talk eventually. The question is whether you do it while you still have control over your own reactions.”
His mouth tightened.
“Let’s start simple,” I said. “What’s your name?”
Sure, why not give all of us a little demonstration.
He spat at my feet.
I thumbed the remote, just a pulse—barely enough to make a dog yelp. Not that I’d ever use this on a dog, sick bastards. But very useful for questioning.
Ignacio’s whole body jerked. Not violently—just enough that the zip-ties creaked and his breath hitched into silence. His eyes watered.
Patient, I asked, “Your name?”
Fear sharpened him like a knife, but stubbornness locked his jaw. Oh, good. He wanted to play chicken. When he firmed his lips, I gave him ten more seconds.
Then thumbed the remote.
Another jerk, this time, I caught the clack of his teeth and the choke as he inhaled his own spit. The harsh cough he released shook him.
I leaned in. “That was the lowest setting.”
The man’s dark eyes widened and the red decorating them seemed to worsen.
“Shall I ask you again?” Yes, this was a test.
This time, his stare broke first.
“Ignacio,” he spat out, like the word burned his tongue.
“Good,” I said softly. “See? Progress.”
Bones hummed in approval behind me, low and predatory. Alphabet didn’t even look up from whatever data he was already pulling on his tablet—because we all knew the name was just the warm-up.
“Now,” I continued, “who paid you to take Grace?”
Ignacio’s nostrils flared. He tried for bravado again, but even that came out frayed at the edges. “Nobody paid me.”
I raised a brow. “Ignacio. We both know lying on the baseline question is just bad strategy.”
His jaw clenched. Silence.
I sighed like I was disappointed in a particularly dense student. “You don’t want to waste my time. Or hers.” I tilted my head toward Grace.
If earlier she’d looked fragile, she didn’t now. She’d gone still—cold still. A kind of focused quiet that made Ignacio swallow hard.
“Ask him again,” she said.
I did. “Who paid you to take her?”
He worked his throat, but the only answer he managed was a glare—shaky, but aimed right at me, probably because he didn’t dare look at Grace.
Right idea.
Wrong move.
I clicked the remote again. Medium setting.
The collar’s response proved inconsistent—as Alphabet indicated—but that was half the point. The jolt hit Ignacio like a glitching live wire. His shoulders seized so hard the chair legs scraped. A strangled sound forced its way out of him, half grunt, half plea he tried to swallow.
Bones said, “Medium must’ve rolled high.”
“Oops,” Alphabet said blandly, not sounding apologetic at all.
Ignacio gasped like he was trying to remember how lungs worked. Sweat already slicked his hairline. His breathing stayed shallow, the way a man breathed when he wasn’t sure his own body wouldn’t betray him again.
“Who paid you?” I repeated.
“I told you—” His voice cracked. “No one paid me.”
“Specifically?” I asked, rolling the remote between my fingers.
His gaze flicked to Grace again. Her trembling had stopped—not from fear, but from something colder, steadier. Resolve.
“I acted on my own,” Ignacio snarled, desperation layering the defiance. “Wasn’t hired by anyone, you hear me? Nobody put a gun to my head. Nobody promised me cash. I did it because I damn well wanted to. I’m the one with the power.”
Grace inhaled sharply.
Bones stopped pacing.
Alphabet’s tapping ceased mid-keystroke.
And Ignacio—poor bastard—realized too late he’d just confessed to the one version of events that guaranteed this wasn’t ending cleanly for him. Particularly since we all knew he was lying.
Except…
I leaned in, letting him see the shift in my expression—the moment the line between interrogation and retribution blurred for all of us.
“Then,” I murmured, “you’ve just made this very, very unfortunate for yourself.”
Ignacio’s breath snagged—just a flicker, but I caught it. He’d expected rage. Expected Bones to lunge or Grace to flinch. But calm—my calm—always rattled the weak-willed far more than anger.
Before he could scrape together a response, I added, “Tell me something, Ignacio. If you acted on your own… did you just decide to take Grace after your crew scooped her up? Because she wasn’t the only one they grabbed.”
His pupils dilated. A single, involuntary tick.
Got him.
“We know,” I went on, quiet, steady, “her abduction was ordered. Someone paid for it. She wasn’t random. So what I’m asking is simple, did you take advantage of the situation? Did you see her and decide to make her your personal project?”
Bones’ boots stopped moving behind me, still and coiled to strike.
Grace didn’t tremble. Didn’t blink. Looking at her now, you’d never have recognized the sex kitten from all those ad campaigns as the same woman in this porcelain goddess with her flushed cheeks, bright eyes, and intractable will.
God, I loved her so damn much.
Ignacio started to shake his head, but not in denial. In panic.