“He attempted to get me alone after that many times, but I was always able to get out of it one way or another…” she trails off for a moment. “Then there’s the time he tried blackmailing me with pictures he took of me while I was sleeping. I don’t know how he got them.”
A cold rush of rage creeps up my spine. I turn to look at Maeve, who is gazing resolutely at Uncail.
“He threatened to show them to the men that worked for our family, and I said that he would make sure they would visit my room nightly.”
The tension around the table hangs heavier than a body with concrete shoes. Even Saoirse’s knuckles were white, a muscle in her jaw feathering.
“I was able to break into his office and retrieve the flash drive, though I never found out who took the photos. I know it was the only copy because the next time I saw him, he was fuming and tried to threaten me further. The stupidarseleft the drive on his desk,” she finishes, her tone flippant.
“That isn’t the reason he is here, though, is it?” Uncail asks, his eyes narrowed.
“No. No, he is here because he aided Nessa in her escape, and we need answers regarding his involvement. We believe he is involved with the Costas,” Maeve answers.
“I see. Well, I hope you aren’t squeamish, because this will be a bloody night, to be sure.”
“I think I'll be just fine. I’d like to make the final blow. I don’t knowhowI want to do it, but I’d like to bethe oneto do it.”
Maeve gazes steadily at Uncail, letting her request hang in the air between them. He looks back at her, appraising, and finally, he nods.
“No time like the present,” he states matter-of-factly as he stands and rolls up his sleeves. He walks to the door in the back of the room. We all rise and follow behind him, the energy amongst us tense, expectant,violent.
Once we’re through the back door, we head down two flights of stairs and stop before a pair of steel doors. Men are standing in front of each one, stony and silent. I nod at them as we pass through.
In the middle of the room is Liam, wearing only his underwear and hanging from the ceiling by chains. His eyes grow wide when we enter the room, and he jerks against the chains wildly, as though they might give and allow some miraculous escape. It’s always the same with rodents like him. I’ve seen it hundreds of times, but as I glance up at the solid iron hooks in the stone ceiling, I savor the savage pleasure I feel that this piece of shit is trapped, that he’ll soon pay. And he’ll pay dearly.
“I hear you’ve been agobshite, Liam,” Uncail says in a sharp, steely tone. Liam only thrashes more. He knows Uncail is ruthless. “You’re a despicable piece of shit, to be sure,” he says, spitting at Liam's feet.
“Fuck you, old man,” Liam seethes. Uncail chuckles, deep and menacing. He places his hands behind his back, holding one in the other, and walks casually toward a metal table just outside of the room’s single light.
“You are a poor excuse of a man, Liam,” Uncail starts. “I know of your transgressions. Don’t think you won’t pay for every single one. Now, we need some information from you. How quickly you choose to cooperate will determine how long we drag this out.” Uncail picks up a scalpel and examines it before placing it down. The metallic clink causes Liam to jerk his head in Uncail's direction, and he squints, panicked, unable to see into the shadows.
“Ah, perfect,” Uncail says, turning with a pair of pliers in his hand. He strolls toward Liam, cane in one hand, pliers in the other, and Liam begins thrashing so violently that blood drips from the metal cuffs on his wrists.
“Maeve, would you like to do the honors?” Uncail asks, still staring at Liam.
She stiffens briefly. This is a test. He wants to see if she is truly capable of handling this level of brutality. She takes a deep breath before stepping into the ring of light, showing herself fully to Liam. And the mother fucker laughs.Laughs.
“Ha! Her? You're joking, right? She’s nothing but a weak bitch,” Liam yells wildly, but he’s the only one in on the joke. We all take a step toward her, but she holds up her hand without a word, halting us.
“Thisweak bitchwill have you praying for death before I even break a sweat,” she says lowly, venom lacing every word. His eyes turn to slits, and he spits into her face.
I freeze, not quite believing what I had seen. I move to step around her, but Orin puts a hand on my chest, shaking his head. Maeve is standing very still. Uncail hands her his handkerchief, and she cleans her face, maintaining eye contact with Liam. He bares his teeth and mutters “Bitch” under his breath.
I shift my position so that I can see her face, and she’s…smiling. Wicked and cruel. Without warning, she swings, landing a brutal punch to his stomach. His breath escapes in a whoosh as saliva arcs through the air, and he coughs violently, his body jerking against the chains.
“That’s for calling me a bitch. And this,” she swings again, “is for the spit.” She lands another punch, and Liam gasps, doubling over. Maeve stares at him calmly. “I need him in a chair or on a table. I can’t reach him the way I want to.”
As if they’d been waiting on her command, three men appear in front of Liam in an instant, and a fourth man wheels in a metal table, similar to the kind used in morgues. While the men work on getting a thrashing, Liam strapped down, Maeve walks over to the table covered in various tools.
I approach her warily. “Hey,” I whisper, and she tenses for a heartbeat, only slightly turning her head. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she says, her tone sharp and cold.
“I just want to make sure. I know this is a lot—”
“I said I’m fine,” she says, cutting me off. She snatches a knife, drill, cigar cutter, and a vial of some cloudy liquid from the table and strides past me toward Liam.
“Now, Liam,” she says calmly, gazing down at the straps holding him in place, “here’s how this is going to work, and listen closely, because I will not repeat myself.” She squeezes the drill trigger lightly a couple of times, and its mechanical whirring reverberates from the stone walls. “It’s simple, so your pea-sized brain should be able to handle it.” She examines the drill again, then forces it against Liam’s forearm and presses the trigger again. A spurt of blood erupts, and Liam screams desperately. She smiles, then sets the vial of liquid next to his face. He glances at it, then up at her face in confusion.
