I find myself in a small office adjacent to the main space, a room with actual furniture and working heat. The desk is metal, bolted to the floor. The chair behind it creaks when I sit, leather worn from years of use.
Pulling out my lighter, I flick it open, closed, open again. The flame dances, hypnotic in its simplicity. Fire doesn’t lie. It doesn’t pretend to be anything other than what it is—destructive, cleansing, final.
Another scream echoes through the walls, muffled but distinct. Kayla’s good at her job. She knows exactly how much pain to inflict to keep someone conscious, coherent enough to answer questions.
I should feel something about this. Guilt, maybe, or at least hesitation. But all I feel is impatience. I need answers, and this man might have them. If he doesn’t, he’s wasting my time, and that’s unforgivable.
My mind drifts to Raven, to the sight of her coming undone on her bed. The contrast between that moment and this one should be jarring, but it isn’t. Both are about control, about power. Both are about getting what I want.
The difference is that with her, I want to give as much as I take. The thought catches me off guard, making my fingers still on the lighter. Since when do I care about giving anyone anything?
I slam the lighter shut, shoving it back in my pocket. This is exactly why mixing business and pleasure is dangerous. It makes you soft, makes you question yourself at moments when clarity is essential.
Ah, fuck. Speaking of soft… didn’t I promise my Little Thief that I wouldn’t kill that useless fucker who’s screaming even louder now? Hmm, I mean, I’ve technically kept my promise if Kayla kills him.
Even as I think that, I know I’m going to stop her. I have to. I don’t want Raven to feel bad for that man’s death.
With a heavy sigh, I make my way back into the room. When I enter, Kayla has his mouth wedged open and swinging the pliers in her hands in front of his eyes like she’s trying to hypnotize him before extracting teeth.
“Remove that so he can talk,” I demand, pointing at the clamp or whatever the fuck it’s called. The thing in his mouth forcing his jaw open.
She pouts but does as I say. “You’re out of luck,” I say to the man. I begin circling him while I remove my suit jacket and roll up the sleeves on my button-up shirt. “You see, I made a promise to keep you alive.”
“Anything else?” Kayla asks. When I look over at her she’s leaning against the wall. I can see the curiosity burning in her eyes, but she’s smart enough not to let our captive know that I’m changing the plans at the eleventh hour.
“Free him,” I demand, ignoring the slight stutter in her inhale.
Once the man’s free, he slumps back in the chair which is the only thing keeping him from collapsing. On second thought, maybe it would have been kinder to keep him restrained.
“Now,” I continue as I get him some water from the cart with Kayla’s favorite instruments. “Tell me about that tattoo of yours.”
The man breaks down, and loud gut-wrenching sobs leave him. It’s fucking embarrassing to watch.
“I-I don’t k-know,” he hiccups. “It’s j-just a tattoo, man.”
No matter how many times I ask the same question or rephrase it, his story doesn’t change. His version is pretty much the same as Joey’s.
Once I feel certain we’re not going to get more from him, I get my jacket and turn to leave, slamming the door closed behind me. But I only manage four steps before Kayla calls my name.
“Hey, Matteo. Wait up.”
“What is it?” I slow my gait enough that she easily catches up.
When she reaches me, she places her hand on my elbow to stop me. “I said wait.”
I immediately shrug her hand off. “Don’t touch me,” I bite out.
Not only would it look bad to have other women touch me when I’m supposed to be with Raven. I don’t want anyone else’s hands on me. It feels disrespectful and wrong. Especially not when I just promised my Little Thief that she’s the only one I let touch me.
Kayla holds her hands up in surrender. “How’s the girlfriend situation?” she asks.
I narrow my eye as I take her in. “Why do you ask?”
“I like her,” she clarifies, sweat beading on her forehead now. “She has great energy, and she’s fun to be around.”
At first, I asked Kayla to pose as a bartender at the Leone Room to keep an eye on Raven for me. But the more I’ve observed the women, the more I’ve noticed they seem to have genuine fun together.
“She’s not for you,” I remind Kayla, whose type is everything Raven embodies. “But things are great.”
