“Oh, this?” Maeve taps the vial with a fingernail. “This is lemon juice. Now, who has Nessa?”
“Fuck you, bitch,” Liam seethes.
“I was hoping you’d say that,” she coos, holding the cigar cutter up to the light and squeezing the clasp a few times, and setting it aside. Then, in a swift, fluid motion, she flattens Liam’s hand to the table and clamps the pliers down on his nail. She pulls, slowly. Liam’s cry is wild, guttural.
“I’ve got lots more toys to play with. So, let’s try that again, shall we?” She smiles down at him, savoring his pain. “Where. Is. Nessa?”
Chapter 39
Maeve
Desticate (v) to cry like a rat
“Fuck. You.” Liam says through clenched teeth. I just smile in response and tighten the pliers around his now bare fingertip. He wails miserably, and I feel savage satisfaction in my gut. I decide to waste no more time, and I slide the cigar cutter around his pinky, making eye contact as I squeeze. I feel the bone crunch at the knuckle, and blood spurts across the table. He wails again, sounding more hopeless than before. Maybe he finally gets it.
“Oh, big man isn’t sobiganymore, is he?” I whisper into his ear, watching the tears streaming from his eyes. I can feel Callum's eyes on me. In fact, I can feel everyone’s eyes on me and their judgment. It doesn’t matter to me, though. At this moment, all that matters is my revenge.
“Is she with the Costas?” I ask, gripping what hair he has left on his head and forcing his eyes to meet mine.
“I don’t know,” Liam croaks.
Liar. Fucking Liar. I walk casually around the table and slide the cigar cutter onto his other pinky finger.
“I swear it!” He shouts, panic in his voice. “She wasn’t even at the house before I came over for the meeting. I haven’t seen her in a few days. I swear!” He begins to weep openly now, sobs racking from his chest.
“Are the Costas involved?” I ask, but he just continues to sob. I nod and pick up the knife, examining it before I decide on my next move. “I take it you didn’t hear me, so let's remove this, shall we?” I slice his ear off, starting at the lobe and working my way up. His scream is piercing, and blood pours from the side of his head. I’d forgotten how much the head bleeds. My hands are covered now, sticky and wet. Once I’ve removed his left ear, I toss it onto his chest and stroll around to the other side of the table, sticking the tip of the knife into the skin just behind his right ear.
“Yes, okay! Yes, please stop!” Liam begs.
I laugh harshly. He’s absolutely pathetic. I look over my shoulder and see Orin and Ronan pulling out their cell phones, no doubt sending the confirmation to my father and Niall.
“You know, Liam, begging is useless. You will die once we are finished. But as Uncail said, your cooperation will dictate how long this will take.” I reach for the drill. I pull the trigger, watching the bit go round and round.
“Now, Liam,” I say, my voice cheery and businesslike. “I’m going to use this regardless, but your answers to my questions will determinewhereI use it and for how long. And there are so many options,” I purr, pulling the trigger again. Liam’s sweat-soaked body is wriggling in his restraints, and blood is pouring from his hands, from theside of his head.
I point the drill at his dick, and he goes deathly still. A whimper escapes him as I apply some pressure. The room is completely silent.
“Now, how exactly are the Costas involved? Don’t leave anything out.” A choked cry flies from Liam's throat, and I click the button on the drill briefly to remind him how bad this will turn out if he doesn’t cooperate.
“FUCK! OKAY! OKAY! They contacted me years ago—” he starts, but I cut him off.
“How many years?”
“God, I… I don’t know. Ff… fifteen maybe,” he panics, fumbling over his words. I stand up straight, considering his words. Fifteen years. My mother died fifteen years ago. The timing seems too coincidental.
“Did the Costas cause my mother's car accident?” I ask, steel and tar coating each word.
And he laughs. Hysterically. “There was never a car accident, stupid girl. That’s just your daddy told you to protect you from the reality of this life,” he says, coughing between laughs. “Face it. You’re not cut out for this. You never were. And the fact that Cormac is justhanding overthe reins to you is the worst fucking joke. That old git is senile,” he says savagely, then spits onto the floor.
My vision tunnels, and my ears begin to ring loudly. I can’t believe what I’ve just heard, but deep down inside, I know he’s speaking the truth now. I take the drill to Liam's kneecap without thinking, without feeling. He’s thrashing and screaming, but it feels like I’m witnessing it through a screen, like it isn’t me who is doing this, like I’m not even here.There are pieces of bone and cartilage being slung from the drill bit. Tendons get wrapped around it, causing the bit to whir motionlessly. I release the bit from the drill and leave it inside his knee, then I reach for the knife again.
Liam is crying, screaming, begging. I barely register it. Some vague and distant part of my subconscious whispers to me:he’s crying and begging just like you were that day in the bathroom. Make him pay.I take the knife and carve into his chest and abdomen. Letter by letter. Single words.
Rat.
Rapist.
Liar.
