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“Now,” I say as I go over to the row of knives hanging on the wall. “You can make this simple for yourself. You can either tell me what I want to know, or I turn you into a human quilt. It’s not a pretty process either. I’m not the best at cutting even squares into skin yet, but I’m getting pretty good.”
I try to disconnect from what I have to do as much as possible.
I hate this side of myself—the one that is capable of such brutality. It was beat into me at a young age and only continued to grow as I grew older.
My father used to claim that the leader of a cartel was nothing if he wasn’t brutal.
It’s something I’ve tried to change since I took over. I hope it’s something that Camila continues to change once she is in power.
“We’ll start with something simple.” I grab some coiled rope off the wall. “I’m going to tie you to a chair so you won’t squirm too much when I cut you. While I’m doing that, you can tell me your name and who sent you.”
The man glares at me, his eyes narrowing as his teeth grind together. “Fuck you.”
I chuckle and grab him by the arm, hauling him up and onto a chair.
He doesn’t try to fight as I tie him up.
Smart man. I would only hurt him more if he tried to fight.
“Like I was saying, this can go one of two ways. The first is that you’re going to tell me what I want to know, and I’ll kill you quickly. The second is that you’re going to want to play the big macho man and waste my time. If you choose option two, know that I’m going to take my time with you, so I would think about which option hurts you less before you make your decision.”
I shrug. “Now, I don’t care which one you pick. Just FYI, there is no option in which I don’t hurt you or you live.”
I finish tying him up and take a moment to stand behind him and still my shaking hands.
My entire body feels like it’s at war with itself as I go back over to the wall of knives and pick a scalpel, perfect for precise cuts.
I hate what I have to do. I hate that I have to do it. But what I hate the most is knowing this fuckface was in Zoe’s room.
He could have hurt her. Taken her.
I need to make my message crystal clear. Come for my wife, and you’ll die.
“I’m not telling you shit.”
Chuckling, I drag my scalpel down the side of his face just hard enough to leave a line from eyebrow to jaw. “Are you sure that is your choice? I want this to be easy between us, but if you aren’t going to tell me anything, then we’re going to have to go with option two. And option two kind of pisses me off even more.”
Blood trickles down his face as he shakes his head.
Fear shines in his eyes as I give him a matching mark of the other side of the face.
“What were you here for?”
Before giving him a chance to answer, I cut off the tip of his finger.
He screams, the sound dying as soon as it hits the soundproofed walls.
“Scream all you want. There is nobody out there who can hear you.”
“The woman.” He gasps as he looks down at the blood.
“Pathetic.” I drag another line down the side of his face. “All it took was losing the tip of a finger to get you to start talking. If my men were as weak as you, I would kill them for it.”
The man whimpers as I drag the tip of the blade along the curve of his ear.
He tries to shrink back from the knife, but there is nowhere to go.
The muscles in my jaw flex as I consider killing him now.
