I laughed in shame. “She ratted out one of our former generals, got him sent to maximum. He won’t get out before he dies, so Sloan’s dad sent me to deal with her. Torture her until she screamed. That’s what I did. I cut every inch of her skin, cut off one finger after another, then her toes.”
Fallon flinched.
“Then her tongue. I told her she would never rat on anyone ever again before I slit her throat and let her bleed out slowly.” I clapped my hands together in front of me and sighed. “We do what we have to, Fallon. It’s in our blood. We’re mob men. After a while you become numb to the screams—just another day at work.”
He nodded slowly. “One person at a time?”
“Yeah.” I patted him on the shoulder. “But first, be angry. This man hurt you, put you in the hospital, in an induced coma.” I lowered my voice. “He had Vail scared for your life.Don’tlet him get away with it. We can’t kill him, but make sure he never forgets your name. Carve it into his skin if you have to.”
Determination flickered over his face and his jaw tensed, though he still smiled. “You’re right. You’re always right.” He bit the corner of his lip and looked at Ilya.
Cillian had stopped his verbal torture and started walking over to us. “What are ye two talking about?” He held out his hand to me. “Give me one of yer knives.”
“Why?” I crossed my arms. “You know the rules. You can’t torture him, it’s Fallon’s job.”
He scoffed. “Just give me a bloody knife. I know they’re like yer wee babes, but I won’t hurt it.”
I sighed and crouched in front of the leather case, and I opened it. After a quick inspection of my options, I pulled out one of my favorites and passed it to him. “Don’t do too much damage.”
Cillian laughed and winked at Fallon. “I’ll show ye how to do it, boyo.”
“You just want to show off.” Fallon grinned. “Go ahead. I like it when you flex your muscles.”
He was only teasing, but I didn’t miss the interest in Cillian’s gaze. If Fallon had flirted with him two months ago, Cillian would have called him a bunch of rude names and told him to go fuck himself, but this time Cillian smirked and waved the gleaming black knife at Fallon.
Ilya shifted, and the sound of something snapping filled the room before Ilya surged out of his chair. We didn’t have time to think because he was rushing toward Cillian, his feet thumping on the wooden floor. His jaw was lopsided and forced at such a grotesque angle by the gag that it made him look more like a decomposing corpse than a human.
“Behind you,” Fallon shouted, but years of living this life and instinct already had Cillian turning around, the knife held up and ready for action. Ilya came at him with incredible strength for a man who had been tortured for an entire day and left in the cold most of the night, and Cillian reacted, driving the blade of my knife into Ilya’s throat.
Ilya froze, eyes wide and gurgling on blood. He couldn’t say anything with the gag still in his mouth. He turned a terrified gaze on Fallon, pleading, but it was too late. The moment Cillian yanked out the knife, blood poured from his wound, and he dropped face-first to the wooden floor, a pool of crimson spreading slowly around his head like a gory halo.
“What the fuck, Cillian?” I growled out, storming forward. I didn’t know why I bothered to check Ilya’s pulse, but I crouched and pressed my fingers to his neck anyway. He was too far gone, in minutes he’d be dead.
“Well, feck.” Cillian blanched and real fear slid over his face—he’d fucked up and killed a man he’d promised the boss we wouldn’t.
“Fuck, Cillian.” I stood, my heart racing and skin clammy with sweat even though it was still freezing in here.
The door from the stairwell opened and Rowen walked in, but he froze the moment he saw the chaos in front of him, which he wouldn’t have heard with the soundproofing. He shut the door firmly, gaping as he stared at the scene. “Blimey, what happened?”
Anger had me pacing in front of Ilya’s body, while Fallon stayed against the wall, arms over his belly as he chewed the corner of his lip.
“Cillian happened, that’s what.” I stopped and stared at the blood, inching closer to Fallon, and nausea swirled in the pit of my stomach. “We need to tell Sloan. Now. He promised Ilya’s cousin he’d have him back tonight. Sloan needs to come up with a plan.”
“If he doesn’t plan onkillingus first,” Rowen said, storming over to Cillian and shoving him. Cillian cursed and pushed him back, and they glared at each other. “Ye talk to me about fecking up and look what ye did!”
“He came at me,” Cillian snarled. “Look at his wrists. He musta been cutting the ropes on something most of the night. Tadgh wasn’t watching him well enough.”
“Ye didn’t have to kill him.” Rowen threw his hands up in the air. “Ye have enough skills to stop a half-dead man from hurting ye, instead ye put Aspen’s knife in his neck? Fecking hell.”
“What do we do?” Fallon asked, straightening. He rubbed his chest and real concern passed over his face. “Mr. Killough will murder us for this.”
“No, he won’t.” I walked over to him and pulled him gently into my arms, kissing his forehead. “This was an accident. He knows us.”
“He’s already given us a chance, though, hasn’t he? Sloan doesn’t hand those out every day.” Cillian ran a hand through his hair and sighed, pulling out his phone. “I’ll do it. I was the one who fecked up.”
We watched him search for Sloan’s name and tap it on his phone before pressing it to his ear. A few seconds later, Cillian was taking a deep breath.
“Boss, hey. Something’s happened....”
