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I studied his expression. “What do you mean? What happened to you back then?” Was that why everything had changed? It’d seemed so sudden when he’d pulled away from me, stopped talking to me, stopped even smiling at me other than occasionally and stiffly, but maybe the shift in attitude had been building up for a while and I just hadn’t noticed.
Logan drew in a sharp breath. “We don’t call ourselves ‘the Vigil’ because we watch over the university. It’s short for Vigilantes. We do whatever it takes to see justice done for the people who deserve it—people who’ve been scammed or threatened or outright assaulted—even if that justice is bloody and violent like today.”
My throat constricted. “That wasn’t the first timeyou’vekilled someone, was it?”
Logan closed his eyes for a second. I could tell from the flex of his jaw that he wasn’t unaffected by the act he’d had to commit.
“No,” he said roughly. “Thankfully I’ve only had to go that far to defend myself once before. But I’ve been in plenty of situations that came close as well. And with the direction this case seems to be heading in…” He lifted his head, his gaze boring into mine. “You saw how it went down in the warehouse. You saw the lengths we need to go to. If you insist on sticking around, that’s what you’d be getting into.”
CHAPTERTHREE
Dexter
“We don’t have many questions that we need you to answer,” Slade snapped, rearing back and slamming his fist into the man’s already bruising cheek. “Fairly simple, actually. Who you work for, what you’re doing here, what happens in this place. Further questions are pending, but if you answer them, we’ll go away and you can go back to your sad life.”
The man’s head swayed to the side where he was still sprawled on his stomach, but he kept his mouth firmly shut. We weren’t experts at interrogations like this, but we’d usually been able to get at least a little cooperation once we’d shown we were willing to use force. This guy was a cut above our past opponents… which meant his employers must be too.
Slade moved around the bound form in a chaotic sort of rhythm, shifting his weight between his prosthetic and his other leg, aiming a kick here and a stomp there. The man made the mistake of trying to smack Slade’s ankle with his tied hands, and Slade retaliated by snatching at his hand and twisting hard with a crunch of shattering bone. A pained grunt slipped from the man’s lips.
He wasn’t impervious. And wehadto know what was going on here. How it connected to Madelyn and her father. Why it was important enough that not one but two men had attacked us for intruding.
And even though I usually disliked having to resort to violence, a little part of me might have gotten satisfaction out of his sounds of discomfort. He’d tried to do worse to Madelyn. The thought of her squirming in his arms for the seconds before she’d gotten free made my pulse stutter.
I didn’t know her very well yet, but she’d held her own alongside the Vigil. She’d been brave and smart—and unfazed by our less savory methods and my own strangeness.
Of course, I had no idea how she must feel about what she’d seen just now. She’d looked horrified when she’d spotted us by the dead body in the other room. She hadn’t seen us demonstrate this level of aggression before.
So let’s hope we could get enough out of this asshole to ensure we didn’t need to again.
The man was shaking his head at Slade’s latest demand for answers. Slade glowered down at him and whacked him across the forehead with the side of his sneaker.
“Nothing? That’s your go-to answer?” The man remained silent. “Fine. But don’t say we didn’t warn you.”
I knew my cue. It always left me feeling a little queasy at first, but when I let go of my qualms and focused on just the act, the man in front of me was nothing more than a collection of body parts: perfectly ordered, easily disrupted. I pulled out my pocket knife and flipped open the blade, studying the bulky form. Maximum pain without allowing an irrecoverable amount of blood loss—that was the trick.
As I circled the man, he watched me warily. “What the fuck areyoudoing?” he snarled.
Slade gave a dark guffaw. “My friend isverygood at inflicting pain, but he’s also quite good at stopping when he hears answers. Isn’t that right, buddy?”
He was careful not to use my name in front of the thug. I nodded and knelt down by the man’s feet. When the man started to thrash, Slade sat down on his thighs, holding him in place. I grabbed one of the guy’s running shoes and tugged it off.
“How about you tell us who you work for, and we’ll avoid bringing the chop shop to your feet?” Slade suggested as I lifted the blade. The man stilled, not willing to slice himself open with unnecessary movements.
“It doesn’t matter who I work for,” he spat.
I clenched my jaw and dug the tip of the knife into the arch of his foot, carving a small slice right down the center.
The man jerked, but I held on tightly. “Fuck!” he shouted.
“You know what we’re looking for,” I said evenly. “Cough it up and you don’t have to endure any more of this.”
“Fuck you.”
“Wrong answer.”
I dug the knife in a little higher, and his squirming intensified, but he couldn’t throw off Slade or prevent my work. Then I jabbed the blade right between his toes. He sucked a breath through his teeth with a hiss, but didn’t say anything else.
“Care to tell us what the warehouse is used for?” Slade asked casually.
