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I point the bloody end of the knife to his lips. “No, fuckyou…” I say, cutting him off.
I shove my knife into his other thigh and relish in his grunts and groans of pain. Dragging the knife along his abs, I stick the tip into his flesh and dig in until blood beads to the surface. I remove the knife and continue poking and stabbing at his torso until it’s littered with raw, bloody wounds.
“You think this will help you heal,” he says, and I smirk when his voice shakes.
“I’ll heal in fucking hell,” I tell him.
Manuel tugs at the ropes that hold him down. “You won’t get away with this,” he growls.
“You’re right. One day, I will answer for the blood on my hands, but do you know the difference between us, Manuel?” I ask. “The blood that stainsyouis on yoursoul.” Leaning in close, I hold my knife to his throat as I whisper, “I promised Isa I’d make this hurt… I don’t think you’re hurting enough yet.”
“My men—” he coughs, then repeats, “My men will ki—kill you, you won’t make it out of here alive.”
A burst of laughter leaves my lips as I place my knife on the floor beside Santos’ chair and pick up my gun. “Your men are all dead, Santos. The last of the Demonio de Hielo dies with you.”
“LIAR!” he shouts and writhes when he spots the gun in my hand.
I step back before I aim, and I shoot him in the kneecap.
A bloodcurdling scream fills the air, and the door opens, slamming against the wall.
Manuel’s eyes dart toward the door, hope blazing in them until Priest rushes in with Patch hot on his heels.
“You almost done?” Priest asks.
Raising the gun, I shoot out Manuel’s other kneecap, causing him to scream again.
“A couple more minutes,” I say.
The door closes behind Priest, leaving me alone with Santos once again.
Moving closer to him, I lean down and get into his face, “See you in hell.”
“You won’t get away with this!” he shouts as I pick up the gas can and begin pouring gasoline around the chair, then over his body. I hold the can up and allow the liquid to douse his head.
He screams, shouts, curses me to hell, and writhes as I empty the gas can. He never begs. It pisses me the fuck off, but I know that in a few minutes, when his flesh is burning, he’ll be screaming like the pig he is.
***
From the forest behind the cartel’s compound, I stand, Isadora and my brothers by my side as we watch the Demonio de Hielo mansion burn.
“He’s really gone,” Isadora whispers beside me, her head resting on my shoulder.
“Should’ve tortured him for longer,” I say, wishing I had a few more hours with him. I could’ve had him for days and it still wouldn’t have been enough.
Bullet and Angel appear through the trees, guns still drawn at their sides as they step over fallen branches, making their way back from the hunting shack.
“Y’all good?” Priest asks when they make it to us.
“Four were held up in the hunting shack but we took care of them.” Angel answers.
Bullet glances in the direction of the mansion. “Looks like you had things under control on this end.”
Patch lifts his chin, nodding toward the growing flames billowing in the distance. “A few of ‘em would’ve gotten away, but we’ll be able to round ‘em up—”
“If the cops don’t get ‘em first,” Priest adds as sirens wail in the distance.
Isadora wraps her arms around herself. “They have so many safe houses.”
