Chapter 30
Bear and Swift hauled the P.I. and the crew out and dumped them hard into the wooden chairs lined up waiting. The thin plastic ties got swapped for thick heavy leather straps, fastened tight round their wrists and ankles to the solid wood frames. We ripped the hoods off their faces.
The bare bulb’s harsh light hit them full on, making them squint and flinch like it burned.
I stepped out of the shadows, slowly unbuttoning and slipping off my cut, laying it safe to one side on a clean workbench.
I rolled my sleeves up to the elbows, showing every inch of inked skin, the silver skull rings catching the light.
I made sure the silver cross Thorn gave me sat right where it belonged.
The P.I. looked around the damp cold room, eyes flicking to the plastic sheeting spread over the floor, then back to me. His face went pale, sweat beading thick on his forehead as he realised exactly where he was, and who he was dealing with.
“Please…” he stammered, teeth chattering so hard they clicked. “I was just told to find her. I don’t know anything else. Arthur Sterling… he paid me. He’s the one who wanted her back.”
I stepped slow right up to him, leaned down, resting my weight on the armrests so we were eye to eye.
“I know who paid you, city boy,” I whispered, voice dropping low enough to make him shiver.
“But before this night is over, you’re gonna tell me every name, every address, every hotel room, every single person he’s got on his payroll.
And if you lie… well, Bear didn’t drag that plastic down here just to mop the floor. ”
This was it. The gloves were off. They wanted to take what was mine, come onto our patch and try to steal her away? Fine. They wanted a war. They’d come to the right place.
The P.I.’s eyes darted all over, panic clear as day, but the other man – the crew boss – just set his jaw, stared straight ahead like he thought he could be tough.
I let out a low rumbling laugh, deep as grinding stones. Straightened up, stepped back so the light hit me full in the face. I wanted them to see every scar, every mark of the life I’d lived. I wanted them to know exactly what kind of beast they’d woken up.
“You look like a man who goes to church, city boy,” I said, my voice echoing off the damp concrete walls.
He swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing wildly. Didn’t say a word. So, I took another step closer, heavy boots thudding slow and deliberate on the floorboards.
“Then you better hope you know exactly who you’re praying to right now,” I murmured, leaning in again. “You better beg him hard. Because he might be the only one who feels any pity for you tonight. But me? I call the shots here.”
I walked over to an old, rusted iron table pushed against the far wall. Moved slow, every step loud enough for them to hear. Tied up tight with frayed cord was an old leather roll. I didn’t open it yet – just ran my hand over the outside, so they could hear the heavy metal clinking inside.
“I like games,” I told them, turning back round. I leaned my hips against the workbench, crossed my arms over my chest. “They keep things honest. Here’s how we play. Every time you lie… every time you leave out a name, a place, a number… Bear hits him. I won’t touch you. He will.”
The P.I. blinked, a tiny flicker of desperate hope in his eyes. It was almost sad.
“No,” I corrected, a sharp cruel smile pulling at my mouth. “Every time a lie comes out of your mouth… you’re the one that takes the hit. Bear!”
Bear stepped out of the shadows behind the other guy’s chair, huge and terrifying. Didn’t say a word – just cracked his knuckles, loud as dry branches snapping.
“Alright! Alright!” the P.I. sobbed, tears cutting tracks through the grime on his cheeks. “I told you! Arthur Sterling! That’s all I know!”
“That’s a start,” I whispered.
I didn’t give him even a second to breathe. One long stride and I was right in front of the crew leader. Fist cocked back, rings glinting, and I hit him square in the jaw as hard as I could.
The crack echoed off the walls. His head snapped back so hard the chair groaned under him.
Blood sprayed everywhere, bright red on the plastic sheeting.
He made a wet gurgling noise, chin falling to his chest, dark blood soaking his shirt.
The P.I. screamed so loud his chair rattled against the floor.
“Look at him!” I roared, grabbing the P.I. by the hair and yanking his head round so he couldn’t look away. “Look at what your silence just got him! You think I won’t do the same to you? You think I care who you work for? Keep lying and you’ll be joining him before the night’s out!”
I let go, wiped a smear of blood off my knuckles onto the back of my hand, then rested it over the cross at my throat.
“Now,” I said, voice deadly calm again. “Let’s try once more. Who else did he pay? Give me the first name.”
He was shaking so bad he could barely get the words out, chest heaving like a bellows. “I… I don’t… wait! There’s a bloke! Runs a place down at the docks! Name’s Miller… Thomas Miller! He manages the warehouse on Pier 41!”
I watched him close, looking for that little twitch, that tell-tale sign he was making it up. He looked like he was telling the truth – or at least, what he believed was the truth.
“See? That wasn’t so hard,” I said, tapping my chin. “But Miller’s just a small fish. He don’t give the orders. Who does Miller answer to?”
The P.I. looked at the beaten, bleeding man beside him, then closed his eyes tight. Hesitated. Like he was still scared of the people who hired him more than he was of me.
“Bear,” I nodded.
Bear didn’t waste a second. Brought his huge open palm down hard across the side of the leader’s head, nearly tipping the whole chair over. The man screamed through his broken teeth.
“STOP! I’LL TELL YOU!” the P.I. wailed. “It’s the Blackwood family! They’re the ones backing Sterling! They’ve got a safehouse out in Mayfair, and a whole network of tech guys running things out of a firm right in the city centre!”
The Blackwood’s. Now that was something. This wasn’t just some rich dad throwing money around. They were sending their heaviest hitters right onto our ground. Anger burned hot and sharp in my chest. They really thought they could come here, take what’s mine, and get away with it?
“Swift!” I called into the dark.
Swift stepped out holding a notepad and pen. “Got it all, Boss. I’ll get the lads onto the Mayfair address and that tech company straight away.”
“Good,” I said, never taking my eyes off the P.I. “But don’t think we’re done yet. You’ve given me a little thread… now I’m gonna pull the whole thing apart.”
Slowly, I untied the leather roll and let it fall open on the bench. The harsh light glinted off every tool – heavy claw hammer, long rusted pliers, jagged bone saws. The metal clinked soft and sharp, sounding like a death knell in that quiet room.
I picked up the hammer, hefting it slow in my hand, feeling the worn wooden grip familiar and right. Dragged the head along the concrete wall, making that horrible screeching sound that made both men flinch hard.
“You prayed to your maker, city boy?” I asked, stepping back towards them. “He might hear you down here. But the people you work for? They’re gonna hear you scream.”