Page 144 of Lethal King

“What… what do you want?” Flavian sniffles, choking back tears.

Typical human trafficker, I think. Coward.

With the back of my hand, I wipe away any last trace of him from my lips. Flavian is barely attractive. The only reason I kissed him was because I got lost in my game with Rozalia.

It won’t happen again.

“I want answers,” I say. “I want Leander Onasis.”

“I… I don’t know where he is,” Flavian croaks.

“I don’t care. You know about his secret properties. Tell me where they are.”

To my surprise, Flavian doesn’t just start blurting out addresses. The coward may be a little tougher than I thought.

“I... I can’t,” he finally sighs, flinching as I pull him up by the hair again.

“Yes, you can,” I urge him.

“No,” Flavian solemnly shakes his head. “Without my connections, I’m nothing… I can’t lose them… I can’t lose my connections…”

“Would you rather lose your life?”

“I wouldn’t have much or a life after that…”

“You’re being dramatic,” I say. Lifting my knife, I press the blade's edge against Flavian’s cheek. “Hey, maybe I won’t kill you after all. Maybe I’ll just carve something onto your face, or chop off a few fingers. Do you think your precious connections would stick with you after that? Or would all of that pain be for nothing?”

When Leander starts to sob, I drop his head.

“Thank you…” he whispers.

I respond by plunging my blade directly into the back of his hand.

He screeches so loud I have to turn my back on him and cover my ears. For a moment, I even prepare myself for someone to come barging in through the office door.

But the music outside must drown us out because no one enters.

Flavian is fucked.

“I’m not going to give you another chance, Flavian. The next time you ignore one of my questions, I’m cutting off a hand.”

“No… No… please, no…”

When I rip my blade from his hand, he lets out a pathetic whimper.

“Talk, you bastard.”

I let him squirm for a little longer. Just when I’m about to impale his other hand, he gives in.

“… 775 Lemoine Street…” Flavian mumbles.

“Keep going,” I tell him, not satisfied. “I know there’s more.”

Leander could be hiding out at any one of his secret properties.

“… 621 Baker Ave… 43 Hundle Road… 101 Baskerville…” Flavian starts listing the location off.

“Hey Roz, I hope you’re taking notes,” I say, turning to her. “I’m—”