“I’ve got somewhere to be,” I said, turning to walk away.
“Sort your shit out, Sebastian.”
I turned back, pushing his chest, and he stepped back. “I’m not someone you want to test right now. I suggest you stay out of my way.”
Liam, one of Dante’s men, was tied to the chair with his hands bound to the armrests and feet to the legs, a sack over his head. Soran had laid out some items on a table, and the odd smell of strawberries lingered in the air. He’d always liked his warehouses smelling nice.
It was Liam who’d fucked over Matt’s warehouse on Newroz, and we’d been trying to locate him.
I wanted to know where Dante was hiding, so I could make him suffer.
Picking up the knuckle duster, I walked over to Liam and smashed it straight into his face. He gasped from the shock of not seeing it coming, his body tensing and droplets of blood spraying over the floor.
He let out a snigger. “I know it’s you, Sebastian. Do what you want to me. I won’t tell you shit.”
“Oh, I know you won’t, but I’ll still enjoy hurting you.”
I smashed the knuckle duster on his knuckles and heard the sound of bone cracking. He sucked in a breath through his teeth. Then I slammed it down on his other hand, his body flinching.
“You’re weak, vulnerable. You’ve been out of the game for too long. No one respects you like they used to.”
“Well, when I’ve finished with you all, you’ll soon realise that man never left.”
He let out a laugh. “Please. You’ve gone soft. Let a woman tame you. She is rather pretty, though, I’ll give you that.”
Rage filled my chest as that adrenaline pumped through my veins. He was asking me to inflict pain on him, and I was happy to oblige.
“Stay the fuck away from her.”
I picked up the combat knife and then pulled the sack off Liam’s head. He blinked a few times, and he looked down at his red, swollen knuckles, then looked up to meet my eyes.
“I’ve always wondered … if your ear were cut off, would you still be able to hear? I mean, I could have just searched it on the internet, but there’s something about finding out for myself.”
I grabbed the top of his ear. He tried to pull his head away, but slowly, I started to move the knife back and forth, adding a little pressure. Blood started to seep out, and he panted through the pain, sweat forming on his skin.
My motions got faster as I sawed the knife back and forth and the ear started to separate from his head, carrying on until it was completely free, Liam howling raw screams and red soaking the knife and floor beneath me.
He looked up at me, clutching where his ear had been like he’d seen a ghost, his face pale as he retched.
“I’ll just put that on the table for you,” I said, tossing it down, then I crouched in front of him. “Can you still hear me, Liam?” He looked at me blankly, shock running through him. “Liam?” I said, slapping his cheeks a few times. “Can you still hear me?” He nodded slowly. “Well, now I know, I’ll leave the other for you. I’m nice like that.”
I rose, making my way back to the table. “Do you feel like talking now?”
He sat there in silence. Probably still in shock. Poor guy—maybe I should have gone easy on him to start with. It’s not like I could sew it back on for him now.
“Liam, if you aren’t going to talk, then I really have no use for you.”
His eyes darted to mine as he spat at me; luckily, I was too far away for it to hit me.
“That’s vile, and for that I’m going to have to drag this out a bit longer.”
I dragged his chair over to the table and lined him up sideways where the wood vice was attached. Untying one arm, I pressed hard on the broken knuckles as he screamed out in pain, and I pulled his arm into the vice.
“This might hurt.”
He tried to pull his arm back, but I grabbed his hand, bending his fingers back to add more pressure to that pain, and he yelped.
Slowly, I turned the lever as I watched his face, his eyes widening, panting as if he could already feel the pressure of it pushing against his arm, as if it had already started squeezing. It wasn’t long before his screams filled the room. The vibrations hit the wall, bouncing around, trying to escape the torture. Every turn of the handle ticked like a bomb counting down, ready to explode.
