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Tristan opens the door of the observation room that looks onto the interrogation part. I pull a chair and sit next to Dylan. My demons crowd the remaining space, taking notes until it’s their time to extract blood.
My cousin punches Crow. The blow almost knocks the chair backwards. Crow shakes his head before studying his surroundings. He smiles at Tristan, his bloodied teeth prominent in the room’s blinding whiteness.
“You always had a good punch, 110.”
My cousin’s upper lip twitches at his assassin identification code. He strides to the corner of the room, where lays a table of torture equipment. After picking up a few screwdrivers, he goes back to Crow.
“Oh, I’m scared,” Crow mocks, eyes glinting with anything but fear. “I’m terrified, please don’t hurt me, 110.”
Tristan jabs the screwdriver into Crow’s arm until it comes out from the other side, earning a jerk. “I won’t ask you twice. What’s Hades’ identity and why did he send you to take us nineteen years ago?”
Crow’s expression remains unfazed. “The mystery kills you, doesn’t it? I wonder why only the three of you were spared. Don’t you feel fucking worthless for being alive while your entire family had to vanish?”
Crow is provoking. On purpose. Does he have a death wish or something?
“You’re a dead man.” Tristan’s voice is low, threatening to spill hell over. “You can protect them all you want, but you won’t save them from us.”
“I’m not trying to save anyone.” Crow cocks his head to the side. “I’m just enjoying this the best I can, 110.”
“My name is Tristan!” My cousin stabs another screwdriver into Crow’s palm. Enchanting blood leaves his skin in small drops. “You better tell me what I need to know.”
Crow doesn’t. He continues mocking Tristan despite the screwdrivers pinning him in place.
I don’t even focus on Crow’s reaction— or the lack of thereof. My attention is completely absorbed by the beautiful red on white. The spilling of blood heats me to draw some of my own.
“What Tristan is doing won’t force Crow to talk,” Dylan’s words are relaxed.
“You’re not triggered yet?” I ask without turning away from the soothing gore.
“If he continues being an accomplice to Hades, then he needs to die. There’s no reason for my condition to escalate.”
Huh. I don’t think so.
Dylan is right, though. No amount torture will force Crow to talk. At this rate, Tristan will kill him before I get my share.
“Give up,” I say through the speakers. “Your time is over.”
With a heartfelt sigh and a punch straight to Crow’s jaw, Tristan comes out.
He brushes my shoulder on my way in. “Don’t even think about releasing him for a fight.”
There goes my plan.
My plastic coat in place, I inhale the deep scent of metal. My bloodlust increases to its fullest.
I fetch a knife and stand before Crow. His swollen eyes peek at me. He grins, and his bloodied teeth offer a nice view into his rotten soul.
“111!” He barely manages not to cough. “I was wondering when you would come out!”
“Sorry to have kept you waiting.” I yank the screwdriver from his arm, and he jolts. “Tristan and Dylan take this whole revenge thing too seriously, so I suggest you give them what they want.”
He grins again, hiding a pained expression. “I taught you all how to torture. Did you possibly think I would provide you answers?”
“Do you have a memory lapse?” I remove another screwdriver from his left shoulder, focusing on the blood that spurts out. “I don’t torture for information, I do it for fun.”
“Sick fuck.” Crow laughs. “How about a fight for old times’ sake?”
“No, Aaron.” Tristan’s stern voice comes through the speakers. “That’s a fucking order.”
