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I lick my lips and shake my head. “I don’t want you to hurt her.”
I half expect him to scoff at my pronouncement, but his face goes soft, and he leans forward to brush his lips to mine. “I know, baby. But you need answers. We need to know who’s coming after you so we can protect you. She can tell us that.”
I have a feeling even if I say not to do it, he’s going to. Sure, he’ll call one of the pack down to take me back to the penthouse, but he’ll stay here and hurt her until she gives us the answers we need.
What will be worse? Sitting here and watching what he does, knowing exactly how hard he had to push her to get answers? Or going upstairs and imagining it? I glance down at the tools on the table next to me.
Imagining it, right?
Thinking of all the damage he could do with any of these weapons.
I let out a slow breath that ghosts over Swift’s lips, he’s so close to me. “Okay. Do what you need to do. But don’t… Don’t kill her.”
He beams at me like I’ve given him the best gift in the world. He leans forward and presses his mouth to mine neck murmuring, “no killing. Not permanent injuries, but she might have a few scars when we’re done.”
My mother will hate that.
She prides herself on her looks. They are the most important thing to her. In fact, every two weeks, while I was being pumped full of god knows what, she was at a spa, getting facials and mud wraps and anything else she could think of in her bid to remain looking young. Which is ridiculous because she was still in her twenties when we started this whole song and dance.
“Okay,” I whisper, nodding.
Swift pulls back, dragging his smooth cheek along mine, scent marking me. Leaving me with his coconut, rum and sunshine scent to help keep me calm during what comes next.
He cups the other side of my face, thumb brushing my bottom lip. “If you need a break at any time, Cherrybomb, if you need to tap out, you tell me.”
I nod. He kisses me again. My mother scoffs.
“Always such a little whore,” she mutters TO HERSELF. “Can’t keep her damn legs closed. None of this would have happened if she’d just not fucked around.”
I frown at the words, battling the familiar hurt, but Swift’s eyes darken. They go to cold shivery gold and any trace of my alpha, the one who is so gentle with me, vanishes.
He leaves me, striding over to my mother. It happens so fast I don’t catch it. The most my eyes see is his hand twitching. Then my mother shrieks and the scent of coppery blood hits the air.
I didn’t even see him palm the knife in his hand, but it’s there. And there’s a line of red across my mother’s chest. “Fuck!” she screeches as he lifts the knife again and slashes at her. “Sadie! Please!”
I curl my fingers around the edge of the table and try like hell to keep my resolve. Though it’s difficult.
Swift glances over his shoulder to check on me, and I give him what I hope is a steely nod. It must convince him, because he turns back to my mother. “Danielle,” his voice is perfectly pleasant. “Are you familiar with the concept of death by a thousand cuts?”
My mother glares up at him. “Isn’t everyone?”
Swift smiles at her, all teeth. “You’d be surprised.” He flips the knife in his hand causally, his deft fingers missing the blade. “Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to ask you a question and you are going to answer. If you don’t answer, I’m going to cut you. Twenty-five times. You will count each one. We’re going to do that until we get to one thousand cuts. If you lose count, we’ll start over. You understand?”
Some of the tension drains out of me. He’s just going to cut her, not stab her, or cut off fingers. He’s just going to slowly drain her. She’ll tell us what we want to know before it gets to that point. I can’t imagine she’s going to last very long, anyway.
My mother nods, but her jaw is tight with stubborn energy.
Swift beams at her. “Excellent. Now, what did that fuckface do to my Cherrybomb?”
My mother’s brows lower. “What?”
She gasps when the knife slices across her chest again. “Count!” Swift barks at her and she does, her voice shaking as she counts up to twenty-five. Each cut is shallow and small, maybe an inch to an inch and a half in length, no worse than an accidental slice with a kitchen knife
When he’s done, my mother is sobbing, big tears streaming down her face. Swift leans over her. “Now you understand how this is going to go, don’t you, Danielle? You don’t ask questions. The only thing you do is answer mine. And you better do it fucking quick.” He lifts the bloody knife, pressing the flat side of it against her cheek. “Next time, I’m going to start on your face. You understand?”
She doesn’t dare nod. The point of the knife is just under her eye, pressing into her skin, but she gasps out. “Yes.”
“Good. Now what did Dr. Schwab do to Sadie?”
