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A handful are too weak to walk. My men carry them without complaint, and I count how many legs I need to break on the surviving Yakuza men we capture in order to even the ledger.
“Round them up,” I order through my earpiece. “I want as many of them alive as possible.”
“You said we were—” LaGrezzio jumps in again.
“We are. But we need to have a chat first.”
Mako’s mouth twitches into a grim smile. He’s as thirsty for their blood as I am.
Once I personally confirm that all surviving slaves have been evacuated from the building, I navigate the building to where our collective teams have gathered the remaining Yakuza. The air conditioner is running in here. I take a moment to cool down before I rip into the group of men waiting, bound and gagged, on their knees.
They’re oozing blood and fear sweat. The stench is unbearable. I lean against one of the dusty tables and casually slip my hands into my pockets. “Who’s in charge here?”
They glance at each other. One of them inclines his head, so Mako yanks his gag down.
“You killed him,” the man spits by way of an answer.
I nod and think carefully about my next question. “Does Raizo come out here often?”
He looks away.
“Look at me when I’m talking to you.” I nudge his chest with my foot. “I don’t see or hear him sending reinforcements to come rescue your sorry asses. I’m guessing you’re not even that highup on the food chain. So do yourself a favor and answer the fucking question. Does he come out here often?”
“Only to get his dick wet.”
The other Yakuza chuckle. One of them, who looks like he can’t be much older than eighteen, does not join in on the laughter. He just looks away, no malice or fear on his face. Like he’s resigned to his fate.
I make a note to circle back to him.
“What do you know about the school shooting?”
The man in front of me chooses to remain silent.
My patience is running thin. “Look around you. Each and every one of us volunteered to be here because your boss, yourleader, decided that terrorizing and threatening the lives of innocent children was a good idea. So if someone doesn’t speak the fuck up, my associates and I will assume you were all there and are all equally guilty?—”
“He’s fucking crazy!”
The young man at the end, the one I noticed a moment ago, is wild-eyed. “He’s lost his fucking mind!”
I glance at Mako, at Fontinelli and LaGrezzio, and slowly walk over to the boy. “Go on.”
He doesn’t even look at his companions before spilling his guts. “I’m in it for the cars, man. The cars! But Raizo has us snatching women and pushing drugs on them like it’s a fucking game to him. And then he gives these orders to go shoot up some school and I’m like nope, I’m out. I?—”
The man next to him shoves into his side, hard. The boy falls over, but I catch him before his head cracks on the cement. He’s the most valuable talker thus far.
Once I help him back up, I backhand the asshole who shoved him. My knee connects with his face on the rebound for good measure. He doesn’t move after that.
“You were saying…?” I implore the young man.
He starts sniveling. By the way he glares at the others, I can tell there’s no love lost here. “I wanted out. I swear, man, the second I heard Raizo tell us to kidnap some little girl and shoot up her school, I wanted out.”
“Did he say why?”
He shakes his head. “Not to me. But I didn’t ask, either. I just wanted to make a run for it.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “You’re still here.”
And that’s when his entire body slumps. It’s like whatever fire, whatever fight was just in him, evaporates immediately. “Yeah,” he whispers toward the floor. “They caught me. And then they… they…”
