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I ignore his comment, not falling into his dirty innuendos when he's at the crest of losing all control. If we're not careful, he'll stab him so many times he won't be able to speak.
“How about another one to match?” I ask with a grin, chuckling when the man screams again and pisses himself the moment Arrow slices through his other cheek as if it were made of butter.
“You're beautiful now,” Arrow says, patting the man's bloody cheek. “A damn masterpiece. Sheppy, do you want to paint his portrait?”
Shepp shakes his head with a huff.
“A shame,” Arrow says with a grin. “Then, I'll memorialize my prize. Take a pic?” Arrow thrusts his Polaroid camera into Shepp's hands, not taking no for an answer. “Say cheese, Coward. Then we can really get down to business.” Arrow's grin lights up the space as he holds the crying man's head between his palms.
Pathetic creature. Who cries in the face of danger? Weak, pissant humans who can’t take the pain they were so eager to dole out.
Shepp huffs again but doesn't protest in taking the picture. Once it pops out of the camera and develops, Arrow nods with satisfaction. Another one for his wall of trophies.
“Tell me who sent you, and maybe I'll spare your dick,” Arrow whispers into his ear, running his knife over the man's crotch.
The man shudders several times, clamping his lips shut, until Arrow unzips the man’s pants.
“Shadow!” he cries when Arrow shoves the knife down the front of his boxers, threatening his manhood directly.
“Shadow, of course.They've had a hard-on for us for years now. What does he want, Coward?” I grit out, slipping my fingers into his wounds again.
He cries out. It's music to my ears, like a full symphony of violins rejoicing in his pain. My stress melts away when he opens his mouth and sings like a little birdy.
“Shadow! He sent me! He wanted me to get close to your house and set this!” the man shouts, clawing at his shirt before throwing it open and exposing a small bomb attached to his chest.
“Restrain his hands,” I shout, gesturing to Arrow until he grabs the man’s shaking hands, attempting to set off the device lighting up and ready to blow.
Shaky hands, sweaty face, and piss staining the front of his pants. Yeah, he’s no trained assassin. He’s a goddamn scapegoat.
Arrow grunts, shoving the knife straight into the man’s stomach. “Hold that for me, would ya?” he chuckles, yanking the man's arms behind his back.
“Let me go,” he cries out, struggling in Arrow’s hold.
“This is boring. I want explosions!” Arrow shouts into the man’s ear. “But first, I want to know why you want to blow us up? We’re just children,” he quips, pouting slightly.
“Children?” the man scoffs, rolling his eyes despite the situation. “You’re murderous assholes who think you own this town,” he sneers. “And Shadow wants to wipe every single Viotto off the planet.”
“That’s a hefty order, Coward,” I chuckle, pacing in front of him as he continues to thrash in Arrow’s hold.
But I’m not worried. Arrow’s strong. He could hold the man for hours without complaints. Well, that’s a lie. His only complaint would be the lack of blood and carnage.
“Oh, his name is John,” Arrow says, wiggling his brows and holding up a wallet. “John Baily. He lives at 547 North McClellan Ave in, oh, Briar Cove.”
“Briar Cove?” I raise a brow.
‘This is a two-handed operation, Arrow!’ Shepp aggressively signs, snatching the wallet from his hands.
I snort. “He has a point. Two hands around the man’s wrists before he blows us to bits.”
Although, I’m not technically worried.
“So, you’re in Shadow’s gang?” I inquire, pacing in front of John, the dead man walking, or should I say kneeling.
Of course, I don’t know if it is a gang. Shadow’s been recruiting people over the past few years. He’s been a pain in the ass, stomping all over our territory with his drugs and guns on the streets. But we know nothing about him. Only that he apparently wants to blow us to bits.
But that won’t happen.
“You’ve cut my face and stabbed me!” the man shrieks, slumping in Arrow’s hold. “I won’t tell you anything else,” he hisses, baring his teeth.
