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"Ah-ah-ah..." Zane chided softly as he stood up and towered over him. "You really should stop trying to escape."
The man responded with a low grunt, his eyes narrowing into slits as he studied Zane. There was something about the way he looked at him, an undercurrent of defiance in his hazy gaze. But Zane simply stared back, a glacial calmness radiating from him that seemed to unnerve the man even more.
"I'm going to ask you some questions," Zane said, leaning in closer so that their faces were mere inches apart. "And you're going to answer them."
"This is so hot," I said.
"Shut up, Skylar," Hassan said.
“We want names,” Zane said. “We know you’re with the De Luca family…but what we’re looking for is specifics.”
“I don’t know anything.”
Zane walked back toward me, gesturing toward the briefcase he’d brought with him. I passed it over, then he knelt on the ground to open it, revealing a set of surgical tools. I knew I shouldn’t have been turned on…but I was.
I loved it when Zane played doctor.
“What the hell, man?” the thug said. “You…what the fuck is this?”
“What’s your name?” Zane asked.
“I’m not giving you–”
He was cut short when Zane, in one quick motion, lunged toward him and plunged a scalpel into his thigh. He howled in pain, a choked sob in his throat. Hassan didn’t so much as flinch. Meanwhile…I was getting harder by the second.
“Danny, it’s Danny!”
Sitting back on an overturned milk crate, arms folded across my chest, I watched Zane work. It was fascinating to see this different side of him, this raw dominance. His usual calm had turned into a chilling authority that held both me and the captive in its icy grip.
There was no arrogance in his voice, no unnecessary cruelty. Just a relentless pursuit for truth that made my stomach flutter in a heady mix of fear and attraction.
The man spat at Zane, and I winced as the glob landed on Zane's cheek. For a second, everything seemed to freeze as we all watched the saliva slide down his face. Zane's expression didn't change. He took out a handkerchief from his pocket, wiped his face clean, and then returned his icy gaze back to the man.
"That wasn't very polite," he said flatly.
Hassan snickered, leaning against the wall with a smirk on his face. "You're going to pay for that."
I watched as Zane leaned back in, his eyes darkening by a shade, his demeanor cold but determined. The air around him was tangible, powerful even, and I found myself getting more and more drawn into this side of him.
I wondered if he would cut me if I asked him to.
Just to know how it felt.
Tie me to a chair, make me his bitch.
Zane reached out for the man’s collar, hoisting him up from the chair with ease despite the bindings on his wrists, causing the captive to let out a strangled gasp of surprise.
"I'm not a patient man," Zane warned in an eerily calm voice, his gaze never leaving the man's face. "So I suggest you start talking."
The man tried to lunge at Zane, but the restraints held him back. His struggle was in vain and only resulted in him being roughly jerked back into the chair, his thigh letting out a slow trickle of blood. Zane was precise; he knew where to cut to make it hurt without causing permanent damage.
He could drag out a death for days.
Yeah…so fucking hot.
Zane dug his knee into the man's stomach. "You will answer my questions, starting with your last name."
"Fuck you," Danny gritted out through clenched teeth, his eyes darting between each of us before finally landing back on Zane. He spat again, this time missing Zane's face by a mere inch.
