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I raise my arm, throw the knife. It slices through the arm of the man tied to the column on the far end of the room.
No sweating of palms, no churning guts. Guess that wave of remorse at killing the previous guy was a one-time thing. I widen my stance, narrow my gaze on the man who's arms are stretched out on either side and tethered to poles. He must have screamed. I can’t tell, considering he is blindfolded and gagged.
Not that I care. He’d been questioned earlier by Luca, then by Seb. Neither of the captives had shared any information. Which is when I had stepped in.
I had told the guys they could leave, and my younger siblings had taken me up on the offer. Luca and Seb, however, had opted to stay. Their choice. It doesn’t matter to me either way.
His friend, the other man Antonio had brought to the basement, watches with wide eyes. He’s similarly tied to a pole a few feet away. He, too, is gagged, but not blindfolded. He’d already pissed his pants when I had let loose the first knife. By the time I get to him… Well, we’ll see how long he can hold out before giving up information.
I take another knife, aim it at the man directly in front of me, then let it fly. This time it slices through his other arm. I follow it up with another knife, then another. One to each of his thighs. Then another two, this time to his feet. I reach for another, take aim, and Luca steps forward.
"Don’t you think he’s had enough, Mika?"
"Don’t you think you should keep your opinions to yourself, Luca?"
He falls silent as I take aim, let the knife fly. This one embeds in the man’s stomach. I snatch up another…aim it for his forehead.
"If you kill him, we won’t know who sent him."
"The fuck I care?"
"What did he say to you?"
I pause, "I have no idea what you are talking about."
"You know what I mean. Every time thatbrutto figlio di puttana bastardomeets you,you lose your shit."
I pause, take aim lower, let the knife fly. The zing of the blade through the air, followed by the thud as it hits solid flesh, sinks into my blood. The anger slowly recedes. I pick up another knife, aim, let it fly, and another, then another. By the time I am done, all but one of the knives is buried in the flesh of the man who dared to attack me.
"Take off his gag and blindfold," I order.
Seb walks over to the man, and takes off the cloth from his mouth. Blood drips from his mouth as Seb removes his blindfold. The man blinks, then groans. His eyelids flutter open. He glances up at me then winces.
"Who sent you?" I murmur. "You may as well as tell me, considering you are one step away from dying. Don’t you want to depart with a clear conscience?"
The man tries to speak, but more blood spills from his lips. His companion shudders, then mumbles under his breath.
"What’s that? I didn’t hear you."
"I…" He gulps, "I’ll tell you who sent us."
"Tell me then. What are you waiting for?"
"The Kane firm," he mutters. "They sent us."
Porca puttana!"Who’s the leader?" I growl
He hesitates, and I raise the last knife and aim it at him, "Tell me and I might spare you."
I pull back my hand and he splutters, "Frankie…" He bursts out, "Frankie, that’s the person who calls the shots."
"Frankie, who?"
"I... I've never met him. I merely follow orders."
"Are you lying?"
"No… no…" He swallows, "I swear, I took my orders by text message. I am not part of the Camorra, I’m not, I—"
