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“You see, Gunner. This man believes himself invincible. He believes we cannot hurt him.” Victor sucks his teeth and holds his hand out. “Oh, he feels pain, but it does not last for long, only moments.” Victor second places a syringe in his hand and steps back wordlessly. At the sight of the syringe, Andreus begins to thrash and curse him. Victor is undeterred. Snatching the large man by his hair and jamming the syringe into his neck with so much force I’m surprised it doesn’t protrude from the other side. The effects of the drug are nearly instant. Andreus' fight is not as fierce. His eyes go from the intense black to the shocking blue and stay that way.
“Now that is much better. Had to put the puppy to sleep. Now the man can feel the full force of our questioning.” Victor tuts.
“You son of a bitch, motherfucker, I will kill you. You are dead. My father will kill you,” Andreus’ words slurred.
I don’t heed his warning, with only one good arm. I pepper his body with blow after blow.
After tiring of that, I step away at the sound of Victor's voice. He is not looking at me as he slides a pair of black gloves on his hand. He steps closer to me, ignoring the sputtering and threats of the man hanging bloody and bruised.
“When working with others, it is good to know their weaknesses. This particular other is a werewolf.” He pauses. I’m assuming for a reaction. One he won’t get. I don’t give a shit. All I want is to know what he knows about my daughter. With a nod, he continues. “When you are working with wolves, silver and wolfsbane are your friend. The chains holding him are ones I’ve brought in so he could be hung up and stripped him down without worry he would break free, they are silver. You smell the burning flesh? Silver causes a nasty reaction for dogs like him.” Again, I say nothing, wanting to get on with it. “I’d dosed him on the road in preparation for our arrival. Must keep the dog in his place. Now this next dose of wolfsbane will keep his wolf from being able to lend him strength and, more importantly, prevent him from healing too quickly.” He says all of this while he skims the table of tools that were placed next to our dead man hanging.
My pulse thrums in my veins, and my anger heats my body. I really don’t give a shit about what he is. All I want or need is to get the location of where my daughter is being held.
“Where the fuck is my daughter?” I say, punching the fucker in the gut.
He says nothing, only glowers at me. A throat clears and I turn my attention to the offender. Victor holds his hand out to me, handing me a pair of gloves. Kind of pointless, but I take them. Once I have them on, he watches me intently. There is a glint in his eyes and an air of approval before he turns away from me. I watch him go, taking a step toward the little dick, who is still slurring and threatening me with a slow death.
“Do your worst, but do not kill him. I still have questions of my own. And my vnuk has asked to take his pound of flesh,” Victor's voice sings out and again I turn to him.
Victor’s hand is out to me, offering me a scalpel, a broad smile spreading across my face. I take it from him with a nod and turn back to the object of my ire. I don’t ask why my son wants to take this fucker's last breath. He has his reasons, and who am I to deny him? The two clearly have a history that I know nothing about.
It’s clear from the first slice, the fucker is nothing more than muscle and no brains. He continues to curse and threaten me and my family, only fulling my anger. The longer I take, pieces of his flesh flaying him. I notice his fight draining. It’s interesting to see the effect the poison has had on him, to see the vibrato he once had no longer exists. He is trying to fight it, but I see the fear in his eyes. And I relish it with every slice of his skin. And yet, he maintains he doesn’t know where my daughter’s being held, only that his order was to capture me and turn me over to his contact–who he has yet to name–and that he refuses to tell me pisses me off. With the scalpel positioned at the top of his ear.
“I wonder…” I say with a smirk.
“If I were to cut it off,” I tap his ear with the scalpel. He tries to pull away, but the longer the poison courses through his veins, the weaker he becomes and he doesn’t get far.
“Will it grow back…” I chortle.
“With all the witchy woo shit, does that shit happen?” I say,
I turn my back to the dead man hanging. The scalpel remains poised to cut off his ear. My eyes connect with my sons, Victor, and his men as they watch on in amusement. I’m realizing he knows nothing of worth, which is why I’m allowing myself to have fun with him before handing him to Victor. Time isn’t on our side, but taking this time to get my head right and release some of my rage keeps me from going on a rampage. I can’t lose my head, not when my daughter’s life hangs in the balance.
“You will…” Andreu’s words are low, which has me turning back to him.
Stepping closer so I can catch what he is saying, “What was that?” I ask sliding the blade through the top of his ear, slicing a chunk out of it. He winces and curses in a language I am not familiar with, which has me smirking at him in satisfaction.
“You… will never find her. Julia has plans for her. She will never be the same even if you find…he… her.” He cackles and I lose my shit.
The scalpel falls from my hand.
My vision goes black.
My hands are around his neck.
His eyes bulged.
Voices are loud.
Hands pull at me.
My rage consumes me.
My body moves further and further from the subject of my rage.
“You can not kill him, Gunner. He may not be ready to spill his secrets. He does not deserve a simple death, not yet. Let me zyat'. I will use my methods to get the information you desire.” Victor says, giving me a look that makes it clear. His methods will shed far bloodier than I ever could.
“Fuck, fuck fuck.” My son's hold me, keeping me away from the motherfucker begging to die. I give him a nod, knowing that he knows more about making a motherfucker like this talk. It pisses me off, but I know when to step back.
