Page 84 of Vows of Ruin

She swallows hard, eyes glossy, voice small. “You’re not like him.”

I lean in until she can feel my breath against her ear. “No,” I tell her quietly. “That’s the mistake you made.”

Wrecker pulls her forward. Torque follows in behind them, and the club goes still again, empty, echoing, waiting for answers.

The club floor is too quiet again, once they disappear below. The door to the basement hangs open, a mouth breathing warm air that smells like dust and metal. I stay on the main floor, listening to the scrape of boots and the soft jangle of cuffs somewhere down there. Wrecker and Torque know what to do; they always do.

Footsteps on the main staircase behind me pull me back, Liam first, Max right behind him. The sound of them is comfort and a weight at the same time. The low light paints their faces in gold and shadow, soldiers, husbands, executioners, if I ask them to be.

Liam’s voice is quiet. “How do you want to play it, little warrior?”

“I’m going to make her talk.” I don’t look at either of them when I say it. My hands are already fists.

Max folds his arms, watching me. “We’re with you. You know that.” He hesitates, just long enough for the words to carry weight. “But this one’s going to hit differently, Sparrow. She’s not a target we picked off the street. You know her.”

“I know exactly who she is,” I say sharper than I intend. “I know what she did.”

Liam takes a slow breath. “That’s what we mean. It’s easier when you can hate them. When they’re strangers. You’ve poured drinks next to this one, exchanged words with her. Don’t underestimate how that’s going to feel once she starts talking.”

I meet his gaze. “You think I can’t do this because I know her?”

He shakes his head. “I’m certain you can. I just don’t want you to forget who you are when you’re done.”

That lands in my chest like a dull weight. He’s not doubting me, he’s reminding me that this will cost something. It always does.

Max’s tone softens. “We get what we need. We stop whatever Sebastian’s building. But when it’s over, you hand her to us. No ghosts are following you out of that room.”

I nod once. “Fine.”

Liam steps closer, the faintest touch at the small of my back. “Then let’s go finish this.”

We start down the last stretch together, three sets of boots on the metal stairs. As we descend the smell of dust and fear thickens in the air. By the time I reach the bottom, I can see Tiffany under the light, pale, shaking, trying to look smaller than she is.

Liam’s presence behind my shoulder steadies me. Max’s hand brushes mine as he passes the door. The lock clicks shut with a sound that feels final. Whatever is about to happen, we walk into it together.

The air in the basement hums like a live wire. Tiffany sits tied to the chair under the single hanging bulb, wrists chafed, jaw set. The ropes creak each time she breathes. Wrecker and Torque stand silently behind her.

I start with the tool chest. The black paint is scarred, fingerprints in dust from a hundred other lessons. I open the top lid, let the clang echo. It’s not a threat yet; it’s a promise of where this conversation can go.

“Tell me how you know him,” I say.

She blinks. “I don’t—” she fires back.

“Sebastian,” I correct.

Her eyes flicker, quick as a spark. Caught.

“Try again.”

She exhales hard through her nose. “You think you scare me?”

I tilt my head. “No. I think you’re stupid enough to think I need to.”

Her mouth twists into something between a sneer and a smile. “Of course. Saint Wrenley. The Serpents’ pet whore. You really think sleeping with them makes you untouchable.”

It’s not what she says, it’s how she says it. Soft. Sweet. Like she’s been saving it for this exact moment. Torque mutters a curse. Wrecker shifts his stance but doesn’t move. The laugh that comes out of me doesn’t sound like a laugh at all. My fist connects with her mouth before I even decide to throw it. The sound is small, bone, breath, the wet crack of a bad idea. Her head snaps back, blood spotting bright on her lip.

She gasps. Then smiles. “That's all you’ve got?”