One punch. That’s all it takes to knock him out cold.
When I turn back Lucas is gone.
In two strides I’m at Izzy’s side, helping her up. Already, her eye is turning purple, the skin around it swollen and throbbing.
Dante and Rafael haul Xander up, each holding under one arm, and drag him out of the room toward the waiting car.
Izzy frowns at me. “I thought the point of me coming was so I could actually be involved this time?”
I can’t help but chuckle at that. “Oh, Iz.” I pause, watching her reaction. “We’re just getting started.”
Izzy
Xander is tied to a chair, the same one Derek was. It feels like poetic justice that they should both lose their life in the same spot.
He’s squirming, now awake and aware that this is his end.
“Tell me everything you know about Lucas’s role in buyinggirls, and maybe I’ll make this easier for you.” Enzo’s voice demands my focus as he crouches in front of Xander.
He shakes his head, trembling. “I can't,” he whimpers pathetically.
Enzo tuts. “Wrong answer.”
There’s a flash of metal and then Xander is screaming as a knife slashes down his front, shredding his shirt and causing scarlet red to drip across his sweat-soaked skin.
I appreciate Enzo’s desire for answers, even though we both know that Xander is here for another reason. Kill two birds with one stone. Can’t fault him on that.
Perhaps we’ll gather something useful. Something I can feed back to Phoenix.
Enzo breaks one of Xander's fingers, the sound of bone and cartilage cracking fills the room alongside his scream.
Xander whimpers but doesn’t speak. He’s stronger than I expected.
After a while Enzo gets bored of his non-answer. I haven’t joined in just yet, content to watch the interrogation for now.
I’ve never tortured a man before. It’s not exactly common in my line of work, but I can’t help the way electricity dances over my skin like a live wire—excitement and anticipation swirling in my gut.
I slip off the table where I’m sitting, legs swinging—the same table I was on when Enzo fucked me with his tongue. A shiver runs through me at the memory.
Placing a hand on his chest I still his movements. Dante and Rafael left after we got Xander tied up, so it’s just us now. “Let me have a go.”
He twists his neck to look at me. “Are you sure?”
I nod, slipping the blade from his hand.
“You know,” I tell Xander, tilting my head to the side. “What you did to me will forever be branded in my memory.”
I hum to myself, pushing the scraps of fabric off his chest. “I think I should brand you too, don’t you think?”
He shakes violently, thrashing at the bindings.
When I carve my name into his skin—red rivulets of blood cascading down—he sings for me. His cries are music to my ears. I couldn’t cry properly when he raped me with a knife tomy throat, the paralytic drugs they gave my clogging my throat.
He’s making enough noise for the two of us now.
Stepping back, I admire the way my name looks on him. A reminder of me, one he’ll wear until hisverybitter end.
Enzo assesses my work, a smirk twisting his lips. “Nicely done.”
