Chapter Forty-two Daniel
Chapter Forty-two
Daniel
The metal door slams shut behind me as I step into the room Hayden prepared. My gaze lands instantly on the man hanging from the wall, his wrists bound in chains. I don’t know his name. I don’t need to.
All that matters is what he knows about Eduardo.
I take a slow step forward. “So,” I begin, my voice calm, almost casual. “Nice day, isn’t it?”
His eyes go wide with fear, recognition dawning in them. He knows who I am. Good. The raw terror in his expression is like a shot of adrenaline straight to my system.
It’s been a while since I felt this rush—since someone looked at me like I was their worst nightmare.
Fuck, it feels good.
Most importantly, it gives me something I desperately need right now: Control.
“Alright,” I say, closing the space between us. My voice stays calm, unlike my mind. “Give me a name.”
“A name?” His voice trembles. He’s playing dumb.
That’s his first mistake which earns him a slap in his face with my right hand.
I tilt my head, amused. “Don’t act clueless now, asshole. We both know Eduardo was hired to kill me. And you? You’re his closest friend. Now tell me—who sent him?”
The man swallows hard. “I—I don’t remember the name.”
Wrong answer. I slap him once more, this time harder from the left.
If he’d claimed he hasn’t known anything from the start, maybe—just maybe—I would’ve believed him. But admitting he knew something and then pretending he forgot?
Stupid. It’s the worst mistake somebody could make in our world. But come to think of it, it doesn’t matter what he tells me.
At the end of the day, his body will be a pile of ashes, nothing else. The outcome is the same. There’s nothing that can save him from the fire roaming inside of me.
“Fine,” I murmur, my smile cold. “I’ll give you some time to think, then.”
I step back, glancing at the selection of tools Hayden laid out for me. The ticking of the clock is the only sound filling the room beside our breathing. My best friend leans against the wall, arms crossed, watching with an easy smirk.
“That’s a lot,” I note, running my fingers over the assortment of blades, pliers, and other instruments of pain.
Hayden smirks. “Thought you’d need some options, after all this.”
And fuck, he’s right.
I pick up a small but wickedly sharp knife, feeling its weight in my palm. It’s a simple one, but truly efficient.
It’s perfect. It’s why I love Hayden as my right hand.
Turning back to my prisoner, I twirl the blade between my fingers.
“I’m figuring you’ve got a memory problem, huh?” My voice is mocking now, edged with amusement. “Let’s see if we can fix that.”
His breath stutters. Sweat beads on his forehead. He wants to speak; I can see it—but his fear keeps his mouth shut.
It’s pretty stupid. He’s too scared to say anything, but staying quiet is the thing that I despite most of him right now.
But if that’s how he wants to play, that’s fine. I don’t mind it.
I take my time closing the distance, savoring the panic in his eyes as the knife hovers just centimeters over his skin.
“Here’s the deal,” I say, my tone dropping dangerously.
“You give me a name, and I let you go. Don’t—and I still let you go. The difference?” I drag the blade lightly over his chest, just enough to break the skin. “One sets you free back into the world. The other sends you straight to hell.”
It’s a lie—one he doesn’t know of. One he doesn’t need to know of. Either way, he’s going to die. Hell is the only option he has tonight.
His body jerks as a thin line of blood shows up along his collarbone.
Still nothing. Seems like he’s convinced not speaking will make this easier for him.
Well, it definitely won’t.
I sigh, step back, and catch Hayden’s gaze. He tosses me another tool—a pair of pliers.
“You know,” I muse, turning them over in my hands.
“I really hate wasting time.” I grip the man’s wrist tightly, my fingers digging into his skin.
“But today? I might just enjoy it. I’ve had some built-up frustration for a while.
And your friend Eduardo? Fuck, that bastard is definitely at fault for this as well. ”
He still refuses to speak. Maybe he thinks he can endure it. Maybe he thinks I’ll stop.
What a fucking idiot.
“Time to let go of that frustration, right?” I ask. But he stays quiet, as expected.
I press the pliers around his finger and squeeze until I hear a crack. His body convulses as a strangled cry rips from his throat. He tried to keep his lips shut, not wanting to give me a single tone from him.
Not wanting to satisfy me, huh? Well. I’ll make him, regardless. There’s no point in trying to resist.
I lean in, voice a low whisper against his ear. “I really want to hear you scream, but if you talk instead, I might reconsider.”
He gasps, chest heaving. But still—no name.
I click my tongue, feigning disappointment. “A stubborn one, aren’t you?”
The pliers dangle from my fingers as I crouch in front of him. “One last chance.”
His eyes are wild now, darting between me and Hayden. “No—please! No more!”
“Oh, now you beg me to stop?” I sneer, pressing the pliers against his shattered fingers. “You should’ve thought about that before you decided to be a fucking liar.”
I twist.
SNAP.
The sickening crunch echoes through the room. His scream is pure agony. It’s so beautiful.
It’s almost even more beautiful than my girl’s moans. But just as I said, only almost.
I watch, an unreadable expression on my face as his body sags against the chains. His hand is a ruined mess; fingers bent at unnatural angles.
“Name,” I demand one last time, reaching into my jacket and pulling out my gun. I press the barrel against his temple. “Now.”
His breath comes in frantic gasps. His whole body trembles. “It’s—Lora—Lore—” He stumbles over the name, his voice raw. “I—I don’t know! It starts with ‘Lor’—that’s all I know! I don’t remember the full name!”
I narrow my eyes. “You don’t remember, or you’re protecting him? Did he pay you as well?”
“No, I swear!” he chokes out. “Eduardo only told me once! He’s the only one who got paid by this guy! I have nothing to do with all of this!”
I glance at Hayden. “What do you think?”
Hayden smirks. “Sounds like bullshit if you ask me.”
I shrug.
The guy looks between us, panic clawing at his face. “It’s the truth, please!”
And for a second—just a second—I think about sparing him.
I think about not being the monster I usually am because, what would my girl think? If she’d see me right now? She’d hate me. She knows who I am. I told her. But she hasn’t seen me.
I’m glad she hasn’t. I’m not planning to let her. Maybe I should let him live. Maybe he really doesn’t know.
Maybe he’s not the right guy… But when he says his next words, I push that thought away in an instant.
“You assholes can’t stop him anyway, no matter what I tell you!”
I scoff.
Then I shoot him in the foot.
His scream fills the room, echoing off the cold concrete walls. Ah, there it is again. The beautiful symphony of his screams.
I don’t know how much time passes after that. All I know is my patience is running razor thin.
Physical torture means nothing to me. A few broken bones, some bullets, a knife to the gut—it’s all meaningless. It won’t bring back Roy. It won’t bring back my mom.
But mental torture? That’s what really fucks me up.
I can’t let him know that. I can’t let anybody know except my family, Hayden or my girl. Letting them know I’m vulnerable is risky enough.
I sigh as I grab my knife from the table and ram it into his chest, satisfaction filling me as he tries to get into a different position.
He tries to find a way to not feel the pain that badly. I’ve seen it before.
Well, that’s sad. He won’t be able to.
The chains stop him from doing so. And even if he could… I’ve done this before. Curling up his body will not do anything for the pain. It’ll only worsen it.
“Why are you doing this? I don’t know who it is! I swear! You have to—” he moans in pain, “believe me!” I just laugh.
He doesn’t get it.
This isn’t just about him.
This is about Roy. My mother. The family I lost because I was too blind to see the enemy creeping in.
I press my gun against his head, tilting my head as I study him.
Knowing that two innocent people had to die because I was too fucking dumb to find the asshole trying to ruin my family? Knowing that I could’ve died that day if it wasn’t for Nikolai?
That’s why I’m doing this. He should know.
I have to find the bastard responsible for all of this. Killing Eduardo and this guy won’t make up for it—I know that.
They’re worthless. They don’t belong to any family. The only thing they have—or better, had—was the stolen drugs and the dirty money they made doing shitwork for others.
In a way, I should be grateful to Eduardo for trying to kill me. He brought me one step closer to the truth.
Maybe, just maybe, I should thank him.
My hands tremble on the gun as I shove it against his head, staring into his terrified eyes. His whole body is shaking, tears streaming down his face. Fuck, I love the sight of him like this.
What I’d love more, though, is getting the fucking information out of him.
“Wanna talk now?” My voice is sharp, dripping with venom. “Because I’ll fucking blow your brains out if you don’t. Maybe I’ll send a picture to your mommy—let her see how her son died like a fucking rat.”
I grin. “Oh, wait… My bad. Your mommy’s dead, isn’t she? Died with your whole family, right?”
His eyes flicker with something—rage, pain. My grin vanishes just as fast as it came with his next words.
“Didn’t your mommy die, too?”
Fuck this. If he thinks I’m going easy on him, if I planned to take my time—well, I just changed my mind.
My brain doesn’t connect with my heart at that moment. Because while my brain knows that this man knows a lot more than he’s telling me, my heart is in enough pain to take my gun and put a bullet through his head in an instant.
“Say goodbye to your useless life, bastard.”