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“See, that’s the thing,” I say, voice low as I step closer to him. “I can do whatever the fuck I want down here. This is my domain. My little playground, kinda. If you end up down here, there’s no one who can save you.”
I say all of it with a smile on my face, and before he can curse back, I draw the scalpel down his arm, cutting through the fabric of his shirt sleeve and the first layer of his skin at the same time.
The blade is sharp enough that it takes a second for the blood to start flowing. And for the pain to set in. When it does, the dude howls with it, like he’s never been hurt before.
I just laugh in his face. If he’s already screaming from that, then it’s going to be a long night for him.
I cut again, close to the same place as before. The guy jerks in the chains, but I don’t slip, cutting only as deep as I want to.
He’s shaking like a leaf, but my hands are steady. I’m good at this. It’s one of the only things I really am good at, and he’s about to see that first hand.
“See, here’s the thing. If you want to do business with the Kings, Reggie, then you should deal with us directly.” I move on to the other arm, giving it the same treatment. “You shouldn’t go bribing and threatening our fucking cage dancers. That’s fucked up.”
I don’t know his name. Didn’t bother to find out before we hauled him in. Knowing shit like that is Gage’s deal. So I just decide to call him Reggie while he’s here because he seems like the kind of asshole who’d have a name like that. Smug as shit when he’s on top and then crying like a bitch when he’s in trouble. Just like a Reggie.
“I didn’t—” he starts to say, but he can’t get more out than that.
I cut him off by stabbing the scalpel into his armpit, letting it stick there while I go to get another tool. The hammer this time.
Reggie screams in pain, and the sound echoes around us. Fucking beautiful.
“Don’t lie to me, Reggie. We caught you with your hand in the cookie jar. Only it wasn’t your hand, and the cookie jar was one of our girls. We don’t let shit like that stand.”
I grab his arm, digging my fingers into the cuts I left. My hand gets slippery with his blood, but I don’t mind that. It’s warm and slick, but it doesn’t affect my grip when I pin his wrist to the wall.
I can feel him straining, trying to break my hold, but that just makes him bleed more, and judging from his harsh breathing, it hurts a whole lot too.
The hammer is heavy in my other hand, and I aim it for his fingers, ready to break them one by one if I have to.
“No!” Reggie screams. He balls his hand into a fist.
I laugh at that. “You’re a fucking idiot, Reggie. You think it’ll hurt less if I smash through your fist with this thing?”
I draw back, ready to smash down with the hammer, and he jerks in my hold, opening his hand. His breathing is coming out in little panicked sobs already, and I can feel it affecting me.
My blood is pumping faster, hot under my skin, and I lick my lips at the sight of it. It’s like I can smell his fear coming off him in waves. He was so full of himself before, when we caught him and dragged him here, and now he’s already sniveling and trying to get away.
But we haven’t even really gotten started yet.
I smile to myself and play eenie, meenie, minie, mo in my head, picking a finger to break first. Then decide fuck it and go for the middle finger. Something tells me he gets a lot of use out of that one, smug little shit that he is.
The hammer catches the light over head as it arcs down and there’s a satisfying crunch when it slams into his finger, breaking the bone at the knuckle.
Reggie screams again, sounding ragged and already close to breaking.
Good.
That’s where I need him to be. I pick another finger, going for the pinky this time.
“Who else was in on this?” I ask him.
“W-what?” Reggie manages. He lifts his face, and it’s already wet with tears and snot. So much for him being such a big shot.
“Oh, Reggie. Don’t make me ask again.” I bring the hammer down on his pinky, and he screams right in my ear. For good measure, I yank the scalpel out of his armpit, soaking the tatters of his shirt with blood.
When he still doesn’t answer, I sigh and go for his index finger, spreading out the pain better. Just as I’m about to break that one too, he suddenly remembers how to talk.
“Wait!” he screeches. “Wait. Wait. I’m… it was…”
