With Vex, I can’t fucking wait to set them free.
A door sits hidden behind a row of shelves, something innocuous, something most would overlook. Wylder spent a fortune putting this in, and whoever built it did a damn good job.
I roll the shelves aside, find the small keypad, and punch in the numbers.
They beep red, and I grumble. “Changing the fucking code. Goddamnit.”
I call Wylder, and he answers quickly. “What?”
“What’s the fucking code for the damn basement door? Did the company change it?”
Wylder sighs. While we were getting Ansel back, Wylder had a company come in and do a sweep of the property to remove all listening devices and bugs. They’re still working through the house, but the main spaces are all clean and taken care of.
“No. Neo must have just changed that to fuck with me. Neo!”
I hear a rustle and some curse words, but Wylder eventually tells me with pain in his voice.
6969
It would be funny if my butterfly weren’t upstairs languishing and in pain. Right now, the only emotion in my body is fury. Something I plan to harness soon.
I hang up and enter the code, the light buzzing green.
Pushing the heavy metal door open, I inhale. It smells like death in here; blood and vomit.
Good. I want Vex to regret the day he was ever born, the day he ever thought to involve Ansel in any of his schemes. To threaten him. To lay a hand on him.
I want to send his body back to the Umbra Syndicate to let them know what I did to their top enforcer. And what I plan to do to them as well.
When I enter, I see Samson and Harley in the room, the two of them busy with everything other than the man tied to the chair before me. Samson is playing with his knife, tossing it at the wall while Harley cleans his gun. Both have been waiting for me to arrive.
“About time you made it. Samson was getting itchy.”
“I’m fucking bored,” Samson grumbles.
“Well, either way. We saved him for you,” Harley adds, lifting his gun and sighting down the weapon. “The dude has been very annoying though. Keeps crying. Saying please. Very unbecoming of an enforcer in a criminal syndicate. I expected more from you, Vex.”
“He should be crying,” I murmur, and then pull open the bag I brought with me. Inside it is a variety of tools I can’t wait to use.
Hm, which one? Decisions, decisions.
I decide on a large club that’s studded with sharp metal pieces and place it between my hands. Vex’s eyes widen when he catches sight of it, a whimper moving through him.
“Do you know what this is?”
He doesn’t answer, but Samson grumbles, “I’m sure you’ll tell us. You and your fucking weird-ass facts.”
“Facts are essential to life. So, yes, I will tell you. This is a cudgel. Famous in Medieval Europe. They were used in peasant uprisings as they were cheap to make.” I twist it in my hand. “I got this at an auction. Paid out the nose for it, but fuck, it’s a great find. Even has the original iron spikes.”
Without warning, I smash it into Vex’s bloody knee.
He screams, snot and spittle flying. The sound of it all brings agrin to my face. Blood gushes from his wound, splattering my hands and arms.
“What a fucking mess,” I say, and then I do it again to the other knee, feeling the flesh and bone crunch against the spikes I drive into him. I pull the cudgel out, and bone and skin come with it.
“God. Shut him up,” Samson grunts. “He’s giving me a headache.”
“Put in your earphones. I’m enjoying the screams.”
