“Pier 47! Pier fucking 47!”
Immediate relief. I dab his forehead with the cool cloth. “Thank you. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” I warmly pat his cheek. “You’re doing great, Marcus.”
He’s breathing heavily now, staring at me with growing panic. “How…how did you learn to do that?”
I’m not about to tell him that I’m making this up as I go along.
That would ruin this.
Besides, I find I’m really enjoying what I’m doing. “Practice,” I say simply. “Now, what time is the shipment arriving?”
“I don’t—” He cuts himself off as I prepare to apply pressure again. “Wait! Wait! E-eleven p.m. Tomorrow night, eleven p.m.”
I smile at him. “See? You’re getting the hang of this,” I praise warmly. “Much easier when we work together.”
By the fifth question, he’s answering before I even apply pressure, just at the sight of me moving toward him.
Power courses through me.
“Three guards! Standard rotation every two hours! Radio check every fifteen minutes!” He cries out, sweat sliding down his face. His lips are cracked and dry from screaming.
“Excellent, Marcus,” I praise him, smiling at my prey. “You’re being so cooperative now.”
His voice cracks. “Please…please just tell me what you want to know. I’ll tell you everything. Just…just don’t do that thing again.”
“Of course,” I say gently. “I never wanted to hurt you in the first place. You’re making this so much easier now.”
When I finally have all the information, Torres is slumped in his chair, exhausted and defeated.
“Container 847-Alpha,” he whispers without being asked. “Pharmaceutical supplies. Street value maybe two million.”
“Thank you, Marcus,” I say genuinely, removing my gloves. “I really appreciate your cooperation.”
He looks up at me with something between fear and gratitude. “What kind of monster are you?”
I consider this seriously. “I don’t know what I am anymore.”
When I exit the interrogation room, my breathing is controlled.
The voices in my head have settled into something like harmony for the first time in weeks.
Dominic Calabrese waits outside with poorly concealed disappointment.
He’d orchestrated this whole scenario hoping to watch me crumble without Alessandro’s support.
Instead, he got a demonstration of exactly why underestimating me is a mistake.
“Twenty-two minutes,” Vitelli observes with genuine surprise. “For complete intelligence extraction from a trained professional. That’s…impressive.”
“The information has been verified through independent sources,” Marconi adds, checking his phone. “All details are accurate.”
Dominic’s smile looks painful. “Your methods were quite sophisticated, Miss DeLuca. Wherever did you learn such advanced interrogation techniques?”
Like hell I’m telling him.
I may be young but I’ve learned enough about Family politics to navigate this carefully.
“Good teachers,” I say simply. “And some things just come naturally.”
