We’d already zip-tied him to the chair, plastic biting into his wrists. Ignacio’s shirt lay in a heap on the floor where Bones had cut it off. Without it, he looked small. Not weak—just suddenly mortal. Gooseflesh prickled up his arms in the damp chill.
Behind me, Bones paced, an unleashed predator ready to end Ignacio before this even began. Since I knew for a fact that he could stand motionless for hours without breaking a sweat, he was playing the part of psychological torturer. Worked for me.
“Bones,” I warned. His fists were already balling up. The word and the tone were more for the show than because Iwanted to actually keep Bones in check. He was already doing that by putting me in charge of the interrogation. If he handled it, Ignacio would be bloodied and unconscious before he could tell us a damn thing.
Alphabet crouched by the workbench, rummaging through the mess we’d improvised earlier. Wires. A battered dog shock collar I’d found in the garage. It was almost like Lunchbox was with us. Or maybe it had been his idea, he and Alphabet had been texting. That particular power pack had no business being attached to anything like a dog collar, but between them, they’d made it work.
Grace’s voice came out thin. “You’re going to talk.” Her eyes never left Ignacio. “I don’t care if you make it easy on yourself.” That little gem almost made me smile. “In fact,” she continued. “You should definitely resist as hard as you can.”
Because it would hurt him so much more. Ah, my firecracker was a brilliant starburst ready to explode.
Ignacio lifted his chin, a sneer curling his lip. As shows of defiance went. It was pathetic, but he spat before he said. “You think you scare me,pet? I’ve?—”
“No,” I said, stepping into his line of sight, because if I let him finish the thought, I’d be the one killing him. Pet. He called herpet.Bastard was going to lose his tongue when he was done telling us what we needed to know. “You’re already terrified. I can work with that.”
The son of a bitch was the worst kind of bully. The kind that flexed his power over people smaller than him, physically weaker, or who held less control. His power stood atop a house of cards, wherein those beneath it were weaker, and he never tested himself against those of like size or ability.
Too bad for him, he was about to find out he’d been punching way above his weight class with Grace.
His scowl darkened as he glared up at me. Yet, look, he went mute when I met him stare for stare. Nothing about him frightened me. When I held out my hand, Alphabet moved.
Ignacio flinched when Alphabet put the collar in my hand. Not much—just a twitch—but enough to confirm every suspicion I’d had about how he’d act under pressure. The low, humorless and dark chuckle Bones let out was the thing of nightmares based on how our guest blanched.
“Low setting’s a tap.” Alphabet set the modified unit in my hand. “Medium setting, it’s a little glitchy, sometimes goes low, sometimes high. High setting… don’t use high unless you really mean it.” There was a kind of brutal glee in the way Alphabet delivered the instructions. He kept his tone even and his cadence moderate as he listed off each one like this was basic tech support.
“Got it.”
I was rather looking forward to high.
I slipped the collar around Ignacio’s neck. Felt his pulse racing under my knuckles. He tried to mask it with a smirk, but his breath stuttered when the latch clicked shut. I gave it one tug to make sure it was secure, then turned to meet Grace’s gaze.
“You don’t have to be here for this.” I kept it a murmur. I didn’t expect her to go, and she had every right to be here. But there was nothing wrong with her choosing to leave either.
“I do,” she said, trembling just once, then steadying herself. “He took something from me. I want him to know what that feels like.”
Ignacio’s eyes darted to her as I returned my attention to him. For the first time since he woke up, I saw fear flare—raw and unmistakable.
Good.
I canted my head to the side. I could crouch, give him the illusion of power by putting his head above mine. But no, he wasin a room with predators far more dangerous than he could ever imagine or pretend. It was time he learned what that meant.
The remote dangled loose between my fingers. “You’ll talk eventually. The question is whether you do it while you still have control over your own reactions.”
His mouth tightened.
“Let’s start simple,” I said. “What’s your name?”
Sure, why not give all of us a little demonstration.
He spat at my feet.
I thumbed the remote, just a pulse—barely enough to make a dog yelp. Not that I’deveruse this on a dog, sick bastards. But very useful for questioning.
Ignacio’s whole body jerked. Not violently—just enough that the zip-ties creaked and his breath hitched into silence. His eyes watered.
Patient, I asked, “Your name?”
Fear sharpened him like a knife, but stubbornness locked his jaw. Oh, good. He wanted to play chicken. When he firmed his lips, I gave him ten more seconds.
