It’s been run the same way for generations but time changes all and these outdated traditions and rules put in place by my predecessors must change.
Olivia goes to bed earlier than usual, but she looked exhausted. I sat with her until she fell asleep which hadn’t taken long at all and then I’d switched out the light, closed the door and ordered one of my most trusted men to sit close by to keep watch.
I won’t make the mistake of risking her life again.
Sebastian, Killian, and Dean are waiting in the drawing room for me when I come downstairs, their clothing dark and leather gloves already covering their hands.
“Ready?” I ask them, opening the top drawer for my own gloves.
“Let’s go.” Sebastian moves toward the hidden door inside the drawing room. It’s the only way to accessthe cells beneath and unless you knew it was there, you’d never find it.
I press on the panel on the wall which clicks to show a metal door with a pin lock. Entering the code, the locking mechanism begins to click and whirl before the door releases straight onto a set of stairs leading down.
The walls are concrete, and the air cold, stale, the sound of our steps echoing as we make our way down the stairs and then the long dark hall which opens into a large room. The room is divided into several small rooms surrounding a much larger area that’s stained red with aged blood. It doesn’t matter how thoroughly it’s cleaned; the blood never comes out.
All of these rooms are empty right now except the one holding my currentguest.
I can hear him, voice raw from screaming, begging to be let out, but this room will be the last one he sees. It’ll be my face that shows him to hell.
Sebastian heads straight for the room, unlocking it while I take a seat at the table in the middle of the space. The top of it is scratched and dented, stained like the floor is. There’s a drawer with all mytoysbut I don’t get them out yet. While torture is handy and useful in getting what I want, I do try to be civilized first.
The guy is dragged from his cell, his face a mash of broken skin, swelling and day old, crusted blood. His clothes are torn, and he has a limp, but he fights like he hasn’t already taken a beating even when he knows there is no way he could win.
“Connor Lane.” I say his name, “Let me introducemyself.”
Sebastian forces him down in the chair opposite me, grabbing his hands as he slams them onto the table, using the chains to keep them there. He does the same to his ankles, locking him to the chair.
“I know who you are,” The guy spits, struggling past the swollen lips and missing teeth.
“Good.” I lean back, throwing an arm around the back of my chair, “Makes my life a little easier.”
“What do you want?” He snaps, keeping his fight.
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“I don’t rat.”
I roll my eyes, everyone talks eventually. And men like him, hired for a purpose, talk far quicker than they like to believe. This one though isn’t part of my organization. Of course, there are smaller businesses like mine, little fish that have no bearing on me whatsoever, but every now and then paths cross, lives become tangled, and I have to do a little clean up.
“Then I’m sure you know where this is going.” I open the drawer, looking down into it as I contemplate my choices. Keeping it simple, I pull out the butcher’s knife, the edge of it glinting in the white lighting above my head.
It’s nothing fancy, I don’t need anything like that for what I am about to do.
Connor’s eyes drop to the knife I lay on the table, a flicker of fear there but it doesn’t remain.
“Last chance, who hired you?”
“Go to hell, Farrow.” He spits down onto the table.
“Fine.” I get up, walk around and toward him, the knife dangling from my fingers. “You hurt my wife.”
“I don’t give a fuck.”
“You laid your hands on her.”
“Yeah?” He grins manically, “I was gonna do more than that.”
“I’m sure,” I don’t show a reaction even if I burn within. I flick my eyes to Sebastian who steps up, grabs the guy’s fingers and flattens them against the table. I don’t hesitate to swing, the knife coming down across all four fingers, cutting them clean off his hand.
