“What?” Hayden said, confusion in his voice.
“I went to the docks at the agreed time, but it wasn’t there. This fucker”—Valon kicked him again—“who was meant to have cleared it for me said someone else picked it up three hours before I got there.”
“The shipment from Luca?” I clarified.
“Yes.”
What the fuck?
No one knew about that particular shipment. Hassan had set it all up for Valon. Those two and their men were the only ones who did.
“Could it have been Luca bypassing us?” Soran asked.
“No, he needed us because he didn’t have the people here to do it,” Valon replied.
“Have you pissed someone off?” Hayden asked, looking at me.
“I mean, I piss someone off on a daily basis. That’s normally at work, though.”
“Take him to the basement. Sebastian will get it out of him,” Soran said to Valon.
I shifted in my seat, a slight unease creeping over my skin. It had been a while since I’d tortured someone in this type of situation.
But underneath, there was something else.
A rush of adrenaline danced under my skin, filtering through my veins.
Valon dragged the man by his collar, and Soran followed, leaving the room.
“Who would be stupid enough to touch our shipments?”
Hayden rubbed his forehead and let out a heavy breath. “I don’t have a clue.”
I made my way down into the basement, where Soran and Valon had taken the man. The light barely illuminated the room, but it was enough to see the man in the centre of it. The table in the corner sat in darkness, but you could make out that it was there, certain items laid out on it.
Valon and Soran had tied the man to the back of the chair. Silver tape covered his mouth. His nostrils flared as his breathing got heavier. Sweat was dripping down his forehead as he looked at me. He knew what was coming.
I stepped further into the light, unbuttoning my cuffs and rolling the sleeves up to my elbows. He was trying to say something, but the tape was muffling the words.
I crouched in front of the chair. “I’m sorry, I can’t understand a word you’re saying.” I ripped the tape off his mouth.
“Please, I didn’t know,” he begged.
“You were informed it was for us, but you gave it to someone else.”
My fingers wrapped around his shoulder, and my thumb found that spot just above the collarbone. I pushed down and in towards the bone. His shoulder shot up as he tried to struggle to free my grip, but it was no use; he couldn’t move, not with his arms tied behind him. Gasps fell from his mouth, and his breathing started to become shallow as I pressed harder.
I released my grip. His chest heaved, trying to get as much oxygen into his lungs as possible. His face was flushed, sweat dripping down it.
“Please, I needed the money,” he cried out.
“Money? Did we pay you so little that you needed to take another job?”
I walked over to the corner table, placing the bat handle in my palm, lowering it until the barrel reached the floor. Then I trailed it behind me as I made my way back over to him.
“Guess that money will be no use to you now.”
I didn’t give him a chance to speak before I swung the bat, full force, straight onto his kneecaps. A sharp, explosive crack echoed through the room. His body started jolting in the chair violently, like an electric shock was running through him. And his screams … well, they were raw, broken fragments escaping his mouth. His eyes were enlarged, pupils dilated as they locked onto me like he’d seen death. Sweat poured down his burning face. He looked like he was hyperventilating. Within seconds, the blood came, spreading fast, soaking through his trouser fabric like it had been waiting to come out.
