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Zane chuckled softly, a jarring sound in the otherwise silent warehouse. "Very colorful, but I don't believe your mother named you that," he quipped, returning to his briefcase.
The captive's eyes widened as he followed Zane's movements, his lips parting slightly as Zane pulled out another scalpel from his collection. The sharp edge shimmered wickedly as he slowly twirled it between his fingers.
"A doctor's best friend," Zane said, his voice soft as he looked at the scalpel. Turning his gaze back to the man, he continued, "And quite useful in extracting information too."
For the first time, fear flickered in the man's eyes and he shrank back in his chair. But even if he wanted to escape, there was nowhere to run. The panic was almost visible as it started to set in.
"You're Dr. Silva," the man said, his eyes widening.
Zane smirked. "Finally. Some recognition."
"Just what the fuck do you want from me?" Danny stammered, his gaze fixed on the scalpel that Zane twirled menacingly in his fingers.
"Like I said," Zane replied in a deceptively soft voice. "Information." He rose to his full height, and for a moment, we were all silent, captivated by the raw power radiating from him.
I leaned against a steel beam, my arms folded across my chest. Watching Zane's interrogation had stirred something primal within me. We were definitely going to have to fuck when this whole thing was finished.
"Name," Zane said as he brought a tool out. “First and last.”
"Danny. My name is Danny Marino," the captive relented finally, his eyes darting nervously between Zane and the scalpel.
"Good boy, Danny," Zane replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm. His grip tightened around the scalpel but he didn’t make a move yet. "And tell me, Danny...who sent you? Was it Vito De Luca?"
Danny’s eyes flickered at the mention of De Luca's name. It was a fleeting reaction, but Zane and all of us caught it instantly. The muscles in Zane’s jaw tightened ever so slightly as he took a step closer to Danny.
"Spit it out, Marino,” Zane practically snarled. “Who wanted Hassan dead? Why Hassan? Why not Skylar or me?"
"I'm not supposed to say anything about Vito," Danny said.
"But you already said too much, didn't you?" Zane replied, his voice dangerously low. He reached out with the scalpel, causing Danny to flinch back in his chair. "Why Hassan?"
Danny swallowed thickly, his gaze flickering helplessly between Zane and the sharp instrument in his hand. His lips moved without a sound as he tried to form the words.
Zane inched his knife closer to Danny's face. "There's this artery in your neck," he said. "The carotid. It supplies blood to the brain. You knew that, didn’t you, being one of De Luca’s men?”
Confusion flickered in Danny’s gaze like a faulty bulb before it was replaced by pure unadulterated fear. The blade was now a hair breadth away from his throat. “I—I don’t know!"
"But the thing about bleeding out is that it's quick...so if I wanted to make it slow, I'd have to get creative, wouldn’t I?” Zane’s voice was low, almost a whisper, but it echoed chillingly throughout the space. His fingers tightened around the scalpel's handle while his other hand held Danny's chin steady.
The fear in Danny's eyes was palpable–a rabbit caught in a trap. Yet, he remained silent. I could see him weighing his options, calculating how much he could reveal and survive this ordeal. But the longer he hesitated, the colder Zane’s gaze grew.
“What is it they say? A good physician heals with the hand as much as the mind," Zane went on. "Something like that.” He let go of Danny’s chin; his fingers traced over the pulse drumming at Danny’s throat. “I can patch you up as well as I can rip you apart. So why don't we make this easier for both of us?”
"Alright," Danny gasped, his body sagging in relief as Zane pulled the scalpel away. "Alright...I'll talk."
"That's my boy," Zane said approvingly, stepping back to give Danny some space. He carefully placed the scalpel back into its case before crossing his arms over his chest, waiting for Danny to start speaking.
"It wasn't like you think," Danny began, his voice trembling slightly. "Vito never wanted Hassan dead...not really."
I squinted at him, struggling to process his words. Not really? What did that even mean? A bomb under your car seemed pretty damn final to me.
"Explain," Zane demanded.
"He wanted Hassan on his side," Danny said. "Said he thought he would be the easiest to flip, particularly if he was hurt."
The words hung heavily in the air, cutting through the tension like the scalpel Zane had yielded earlier. It was a moment before anyone could speak.
"Vito wanted to turn Hassan into a mole?" I asked.
