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“Couple?” Finn asks.
“That one’s cock was buried deep into Hayes’s ass when we busted in. Not sure if he’s important to him, but thought we would bring him anyway.”
“He’s important.”
Carter steps a foot closer, cocking his head as he observes. He has this look in his eyes—annoyance. “He covers their tracks. Blocking my search almost every step of the way. He works hand in hand with Hayes.”
“Well, well. How lucky for us.”
The expression on the man’s face as he stands, all bound gagged, is smug, but none of us could miss the fear in his eyes. As much as he wants to hide it.
Sloan turns slightly toward his car. “Now, should we get to it?”
* * *
Carter found us a cozy little place in this area. In the middle of nowhere. Abandoned. Perfect for the job. Andmy oh mywhat a job this is.
We’re usually patient men when it comes to extracting information.
Normally, it would be Vincent doing the delicate work. His form of torture is almost free of violence. Sometimes he simply stares at a person for long enough and they spill their deepest, darkest secrets. But most times, he uses carefully curated information he has on them to torture them with visions of the future, with endless possibilities of their life burning to the ground, while all they can do is watch and suffer. Information is power and VincentThe SerpentSinclair knows how to wield it.
But this situation calls for physical torture. Plus, Nathan Hayes is mine. As much as my brother wanted to sink his claws into him, he’s fuckingmine.
Finn got his friend, the one currently kneeling between us, who I’m holding by the hair so he can focus on my brother. We’ve been hoping that smashing this one’s face in will make Hayes talk, but maybe they’re not as close as we thought, since he hasn’t spoken a damn word. Maybe only a fuckbuddy, then.
“Fucking talk, you goddamn piece of shit!” Finn rages, thick veins marring his temples, eyes red as he lands another punch on the side of his head.
He didn’t even wait for the answer. He knows it’s not coming. We all do now. Finn lands one more hit on his cheek, brutal enough that when his head snaps to the side, blood splatters even on me somehow, and I’m left with a chunk of hair in my hand. I’m certain there’s skin attached to it too.
Not that it matters much. The guy’s not going to care either. We all heard the crack of his bones—once when Finn’s punch landed, and the second when his head hit the concrete floor.
If he’s not dead now, he will be in a minute.
I didn’t beat the guy, yet I still seem to be panting heavily. I can taste the blood in the air.
But I don’t linger. I grab the metal chair we found in this abandoned place, a shriek of metal on concrete echoing in this desolate space as I drag it in front of Hayes. He’s tied to another one of these chairs, not gagged, though. Yet he has not spilled a word. He flinched. Whimpered once. But he stood his ground. Metaphorically, of course.
That ends now, along with my patience.
“Not sure which one was more heartless, you or us? You’re just as guilty for what happened,” I say, pointing to the man currently bleeding on the floor. “You could have stopped it, Nathan.”
For a moment, I search his eyes for remorse, an inkling that he’s ready to talk. He’s looking everywhere except at me or his friend, his mouth sealed shut. Finn breathes heavily behind me, ready to split this guy’s skull open so he can get the information out of there himself.
“Where the fuck are they?” I seethe.
“Who?” He speaks for the first time, and the goddamn audacity makes my ears ring. My restraint is officially gone.
I slam a blade right above his knee, the vibration of the crunch to the bone tickling my palm. But his pain filled cries are annoying me with their delay.
“Focus.” I slap him against the jaw. “Right here, goddamnit. Or I’ll slice through your kneecap and rip it right out. Where the fuck areourwomen?”
He yells as spit falls from his lips, pain clouding his mind.
“I said focus!” Rage spills from my lips as I twist the knife, the grind of it against the bone jittery in my hand.
“Stop! Stop! Stop!!!” he finally cries.
I do it, giving him a chance to speak. He takes a deep, shaky breath as he fights through the pain.
