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Fynn nods, his eyes blazing. “Okay.”
“Fynn, you don’t have to do this,” I say. “You’ve never tortured anyone before…”
“Stop interfering like a little bitch,” Angelo says to me. “He can stand on his own two feet, can’t he?”
“I can,” Fynn says, giving me a look. “And I will.”
Marco turns to Angelo. “Rocco can…”
He points in Marco’s face. “Shut the fuck up. Let me and Fynn handle this. If you and Dante can’t handle the heat, I suggest you both piss off somewhere else. We’ve got an interrogation to start. Right, Fynn?”
Fynn nods. “Yep.”
Marco takes a long, exasperated sigh. “Have it your way.”
My shoulder fucking throbs as I start to sweat. “Let’s get this over with. Sage will be here soon, and we need to get him out of here.”
“That’s one thing we can agree on,” Angelo mutters. He turns to Fynn and sweeps his hand towards the door. “After you.”
Fynn bumps him with his shoulder on the way as Angelo slaps him upside the head. Our fights never last very long, but something tells me Angelo knows that he played a big part in how this went down, which is why no punches were made.
He’ll never admit when he’s wrong, but we all know the facts.
Cameron begins to move and grunt under his gag as we all move into the room.
Rocco starts to roll his sleeves up as Cameron’s eyes go wide.
Fynn walks towards him first. He removes his jacket and hangs it on the opposite chair.
“Cameron, how nice to see you again,” Fynn says, his voice appearing friendly but with an underlining of malice. “It’s been too long.”
He spits out what sounds like afuck youas Fynn chuckles.
“Funny, I thought when I saw you last, you were floating at the bottom of the Charles. Yet, here you are, back up to your old tricks.”
His eyes dart around frantically. He’s relatively stocky, his tattooed arms folded behind his back and his hair cut short. He always was an ugly motherfucker.
I struggle to wonder what Sage ever saw in this dick.
He spits something indecipherable out and Fynn leans forwards, tugging his gag down.
“What was that asshole?”
“I said, fuck you!”
Fynn shakes his head. “I don’t think that’s very polite. What do you think, Rocco?”
He turns to look at Roc, who’s hovering close by, and he has that look in his eyes that frankly sends a shiver up my spine. This is magic time for him.
Rocco shakes his head.
“Can I borrow your knife, Angelo?” Fynn says, turning to look at Angelo over his shoulder.
Angelo has calmed down. Thank fuck. He reaches into his jacket pocket and retrieves his favorite knife. The one so sharp it cuts through flesh and bone like butter.
“With pleasure.”
Fynn takes the knife and holds it up, inspecting it like it’s some precious jewel he’s just stumbled upon.
