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Dealing with women was one of my least favorite jobs, but a traitor was a traitor, irrespective of their sex.
She was my captive now—and I would make her talk.
I walked toward her and watched her pretty face pale. She knew how this was going to go.
As I neared her, she tried to back away, her hazel eyes huge in her pale face, but after a few steps she came up against the concrete wall. She swiftly looked around herself and realized that there was nowhere left for her to go.
I slammed my palms on the wall either side of her petite body, caging her in. I knew what had to be done next.
But first I relished her being trapped by my body. I slowly brought my hand up to her pretty face, stroking the back of my rough, calloused hand against her face. As my skin made contact with hers, she flinched. It was going to be such a shame to ruin her pretty looks.
I cocked my head to one side, regarding her for a few moments. “Do I scare you?”
She didn’t reply, however I knew the answer. She was trembling and I could almost smell the fear rolling off her.
The darkness within me burned as the knowledge that she was afraid of me called to my primal senses. That side of me thrived on her terror, causing desire to flair through my loins. She was my captive now—mine to do with as I wished.
“What did Dmitri Petrov say when he took you?” My hand continued to stroke her cheek. “I want to know exactly what was said.” My voice was low, caressing the air between us.
Her answer was barely audible. “Nothing…he said nothing.”
My hand suddenly leaped from her cheek to her throat, pinning her against the wall. My face was centimeters from hers, my eyes burning into her irises.
“Please don’t—I don’t know what you’re looking for,” she rasped. “I don’t know anything.”
“Do you want me to force it out of you, is that what you want?”
“No, please!”
“Then stop lying to me. Otherwise, you won’t like the consequences,” I growled.
“Please…I don’t feel so good. My head’s pounding and won’t stop spinning.”
She probably had a concussion, but I wasn’t going to let her feminine pleas distract me. “The doctor can deal with it later. Now, talk.”
She wearily shook her head at me.
I should have drawn my knife at this stage.
Instead, I spun her around and slammed her back against my chest, my hand gripping her windpipe and applying pressure.
Fuck, I had wanted to avoid this. But if I had to do this, I didn’t want to see her face while I did it to her.
“What. Did. He. Say?” I steadily applied more pressure to her slender throat as I forced out each word through gritted teeth.
I could hear her gasping now, and her clammy fingers were frantically scrambling against my iron grip, trying to loosen my hold.
A hint of distaste soured my mind because I was doing this to a woman, but I also knew that was the reason why I was choking her rather than cutting her—if she came out of this, the choking would leave bruises but no permanent scars—no permanent marks to sully her beauty.
I released my hold a fraction, allowing her to gulp in a few small lungfuls of oxygen. I lowered my lips to her cheek and noticed that her flawless complexion was marred by hot tears. “Are you ready to talk now?”
“Please don’t do this!”
I tightened my grip on her throat again, squeezing her delicate throat and feeling her body writhe against mine before giving her another respite for a few seconds.
“Tell me what I want to know.”
She was sobbing. “Please…I think—”
