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Chase wrapped his fist a bit tighter into the end of another long chain - this one slipknotted around Murdock's neck - and gave it a good, hard yank. "Does that mean you're ready to tell me?" He stood up, slowly looping the chain's slack around and around his fist as he approached. When there was only a couple of feet of space remaining, he paused. "What's your connection to Dragos? And fair warning - if you continue to tell me the name means nothing to you, I'm going to pound your fucking face into a mashy pulp until you figure it out."
Murdock let out a growl, his narrowed, blood-crusted eyes flaring with amber rage. "He'll kill me if I talk to you."
Chase shrugged. "And I'm going to kill you if you don't. This here is what you'd call your classic rock and a hard place. Since I'm the one holding the chain and the blade that's going to start cutting you up into bite-size pieces, I suggest you try not to piss me off any more than you already have."
Murdock glared. His jaw was held tight, but there was a note of fear in his coal-bright eyes. "There are others who are closer to Dragos's operation than me. Whatever it is you're looking for, I'm not the one you want to talk to."
"Unfortunately, you're the only one I've got hanging around at the moment. So stop testing my patience and start talking." To drive home his point, Chase wound another bit of chain around his fist.
Christ, he hated being so close to the male. Not only because of the strong urge to smash his brains out for his participation in the blood club, among his other repulsive sins, but also because of all the goddamned blood. Although Breed blood offered no nourishment to their own kind, the sight and scent of so much fresh, spilling hemoglobin made the feral part of Chase coil like a viper in the pit of his stomach.
Murdock would hardly be able to miss the fact that Chase's fangs were filling his mouth. His own gaze mirrored the same amber fire that seared him from between the battered slits of Murdock's eyes, though not from pain or fear or fury, but from the taloned grip of the hunger that had somehow begun to ride him nearly every waking moment.
That savage part of him snarled as he forced himself to get right up in Murdock's face.
"Tell me where to find Dragos."
When the answer didn't come fast enough, Chase hauled his arm back and swung the chain-wrapped hammer of his fist into the side of Murdock's skull. The vampire howled, a tooth shooting out of his mouth in a stream of dark red blood.
Chase's gut clenched, a hideous, wild thrill soaring through his veins as he watched Murdock spew a scarlet river onto the concrete below. A sick, rabid glee urged him to throw another punch, to tear the wailing piece of shit apart like he so richly deserved. It took him aback, how powerful the darkness inside him was becoming. How demanding the savagery, how deep-seated the madness felt now that it had him in its grasp. In truth, it terrified him.
He pushed it down - as far down as he could force it to go - and reached out to grab Murdock by his chin. It was a struggle to find his voice amid the churning roar of the battle taking place inside him. When he finally spoke, his voice was gravel, scraping in the back of his throat. His lips peeled away from his teeth and fangs on a snarl. "Where. Is. Dragos?"
"I don't know," Murdock gasped. Chase raised the ball of chain to strike again. "I don't know! I don't know - I swear to you! All I can tell you is he wants to see the Order destroyed - "
"No shit," Chase interjected tightly. "Now tell me something I don't know, before I end you right here and now."
Murdock sucked in a few quick breaths. "Okay, okay ... he has a plan. He wants to get rid of all of you - the entire Order. He says he has to, if he stands any chance of seeing his grand scheme through to its fruition."
"Grand scheme," Chase repeated, feeling like maybe he was finally getting somewhere.
"What the fuck is Dragos up to?"
"I'm not sure. I'm not part of the inner circle. I reported to a lieutenant of his who came up to Boston from Atlanta. Freyne reported to him too."
"What's this lieutenant's name?" Chase demanded.
"Tell me where I can find him."
"Don't bother," Murdock replied. "No one's heard from him since last week, so odds are he pissed Dragos off and got himself killed. Dragos doesn't give anyone the chance to fuck up twice."
Chase growled a low curse. "Okay, then tell me some more about his inner circle. Who else is in it?"
Murdock shook his head, scattering raindrops of blood onto Chase's boots. "No one knows who's got that kind of access to him. He's very careful like that."
"How does he plan to take out the Order?"
"I don't know. Something big. Something he's been working toward for a while, from what I've heard. He's been trying to find out where the compound is. Before Freyne was killed, he mentioned something about a decoy. Some kind of Trojan horse - "
"Ah, fuck," Chase muttered.
A sick suspicion snaked through him when he considered how Dragos might go about doing something like Murdock just described. Through the haze of his gnawing hunger, he thought about the night of Kellan Archer's rescue. The annihilation of Lazaro Archer's Darkhaven - an attack that had left the Order with little choice but to bring the two surviving members of that family into the compound for protection.
Had the whole thing played out the way Dragos had intended it to? Could the son of a bitch have used the incident to somehow expose the Order's headquarters? And to what end? The possibilities were numerous, every one of them driving into his gut like an iron stake. Chase mentally jerked his focus back to the interrogation. "What else do you know about his plans?"
"That's it. That's all I know."
Chase narrowed a look on the vampire, anger flaring along with suspicion. He shook his head. "I don't believe you. Maybe you need something to help jog your memory."
