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In the center of the room, a man was tied to a chair, his face bruised and bloodied from the beating he’d already endured. His eyes widened in terror as we approached, a strangled sound coming out of his mouth as he tried to hold in a whimper as his gaze tracked Greyson’s approach.
I was a little offended that he was so scared of Greyson. I was scary too. If I had my hockey stick I’d bet he’d be scared of me right now.
Greyson stepped forward, a predatory gleam in his eyes as he surveyed the man before us. He slowly walked around the chair, his finger trailing along the leather. I had to admire the man’s talent—he certainly knew how to evoke fear.
“Who is he, Torrin?” Greyson finally asked in a soft, chilling voice.
The guy’s eyes widened and some snot dripped down his face.
Disgusting.
He glanced around desperately, as if one of us was going to help him.
I smiled when he looked at me and finally got the squeak of terror I’d been looking for.
Torrin remained silent and Greyson sighed in annoyance, his expression hardening as he reached for a length of rope coiled on the floor beside him.
With a swift motion, he wrapped it around Torrin’s neck, pulling it taut with a cruel smile.
He gasped for breath, his eyes bulging as he struggled against the rope. I could see the panic in his eyes, the realization dawning on him that Greyson wasn’t playing around.
I mean Greyson’s rope work needed work, but I guess we couldn’t all be perfect.
“Do you have a name for me?” Greyson purred. Torrin remained stubborn, his lips sealed shut as he fought against the suffocating pressure of the rope around his neck.
Greyson’s smile widened, and I kept my gaze firmly above his waist just in case this was something he got off on...he looked giddy enough that I wouldn’t put it past him honestly. He leaned in close to the man’s ear. “You have one last chance,” he whispered, his voice dripping with malice. “Tell me what I want to know...or you’re going to die. Miserably.”
I watched as Torrin’s resolve wavered, fear flicking across his face as he weighed his options. With a defeated sigh, and one more tug on the rope... “Okay! I’ll tell you what I know. But please! I’m your loyal servant. I would never betray you.”
Sunny shifted off the wall, his gaze narrowed on our captive.
“He never gave me his name. I promise. He would text me where you were—where Kennedy was!”
Whack! Greyson’s fist pounded against his face, a loud crunch sound filling the room as his nose broke and blood splatter went everywhere.
Nose injuries were always so messy.
Torrin started howling, and I rubbed my temple where a headache was building.
“Don’t say her name again,” Greyson hissed, his gaze crazy-eyed and wild as he pulled on the rope.
“I’m sorry!” Torrin shrieked, his voice sounding...pathetic.
Greyson took a deep breath. “Continue.”
“I thought it was a work thing. He would give me locations?—”
“How do you know it was ahe?” I asked.
Torrin gaped at me, confused.
“Well? He asked you something,” Greyson snapped coldly.
“I—I don't know,” he answered.
“Continue, “ I told Greyson, gesturing benevolently.
Greyson rolled his eyes but turned his attention back to his prey. “How many times did this happen?”
