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Max shakes his head, his mouth curling into a smile. “Rick doesn’t work for nobody. H-he’s just friends with the right people. I knew where y-your girlfriend lived, and he knew how to get her in the right hands. It was mutually ben-beneficial.”
He looks like he’s fading, so I roughly slap his cheeks a few times. He grunts at me but keeps his eyes open.
“And Rio?”
Another grin. “Who else? The Soc—"
“Don’t be obtuse, Max,” I cut in, picking up a pair of scissors and dragging the tip against the web of skin between his two fingers. When he doesn’t come up with a new answer, I spread the scissors and snip the delicate flesh. He screams, but the sound isn’t
quite anguished enough.
Not yet.
“I want the names. The people they directly report to, and who they took her to.”
He works to swallow; his face pinched in pain as he struggles to answer.
“I-I don’t know, Z. I told you, I ha-hardly knew them! Only what C-Connor told us about Rick, which wasn’t anything at all other than he was friends with a trafficker. When I saw the ad, I-I asked for his help, and that was the end of it!”
“How did they know how to take her?”
He licks his lips, his eyes drifting again from exhaustion.
“I knew her place was sur-surrounded, so we drew her out. Luke knows where Daya lives, so… so he paid her a visit. Broke in and tied her up and used her phone to lu-lure Addie out. Rick and-and Rio waited outside of her driveway and followed her.”
I still, going nearly blind with fury at the knowledge that Daya might’ve been taken, too. No one fucks with my girl, and that includes her friends and family.
Addie’s been gone for seven days now, and in that time, all I’ve thought about was getting to Max. It didn’t even cross my mind that Daya hadn’t reached out yet, looking for her best friend.
If I’m being honest, I can hardly think straight with every organ in my body seized by the constant agony with her being gone.
“Where is Daya?”
Max laughs, the sound wet and humorless. “Last I heard, bro, Luke still has her. Reliving his-his favorite memory with her probably.”
Fuck. Looks like Max is going to have to wait to die for good. I need to go murder his friend first and get Daya the fuck out of there.
“Hm.” I clip the skin between his pinky and ring finger. He clenches his teeth, but it doesn’t prevent the scream from slipping through the cracks of his teeth.
“God fucking dammit!” he bursts, panting through the pain.
I’ll keep him alive long enough to get Daya. Then, I’ll come back and finish off the job—permanently. I don't have any more time to waste on him.
“Who was the person you spoke to when you answered the ad?” I push.
“They were anon-ymous. You-you think they introduce themselves when they answer the phone?” he snaps. “I told them I knew where she was and who was helping me. They told me they’d transfer the money when Addie was in their possession. Th-that’s it!”
I grab his other hand and clip the skin between his pointer and middle finger, purely because I don’t appreciate his attitude.
“Do you know how many men laid in this very chair before you?” I ask casually, glancing at his shredded face.
“N-no,” he cries, dragging the note out in a sorrowful wail.
“Me neither,” I shrug. “Lost count. But what I do remember is that I broke every single one of them.”
Max squeezes his eyes shut when I lean forward, not brave enough to face his tormentor. “But you’re the first one to have broken me first, Max. I can admit that. You broke me into tiny little pieces when you took Addie from me. Because of you, I’m no longer a man.”
I straighten my spine. “Do you know what that means for you? It means I have no humanity left in me. No empathy. No guilt. Nothing. I could do this all fucking day, and even when your body gives out, I’d just bring it back again.”
