“Shut up, Regina!” Hank bellows.
I laugh, “What else do you know, Regina?” I turn to the woman, contempt rolling off me as she pleads with her eyes, trying to convey innocence which falls flat. This woman is not innocent in anyway and now I’m wondering if I’ve just caught two prey in one trap. I didn’t think Regina had it in her but maybe I was wrong, I can admit as much when I am.
“Regina,” Hank warns.
“I – I don’t know anything,” she stutters, “But I had a PI look into Olivia. It was me who left the files. I just wanted you to see what you were getting yourself into, Malakai. She isn’t right for you.”
Even Hank cringes at the whine, at the desperation.
“It was always supposed to be me, Malakai. We were made for each other.”
“Close the door, Bast.” I order.
“What!?” Regina screams, “No! Please!”
“What will you do with her?” Hank asks.
“She’ll be buried next to you.”
“Let her live,” Hank pleads, “Banish her. Send her away but let her live.”
“You’re in no position to request anything of me, Hank.”
“Twenty-seven years,” His fingers curl in anger atop the table, eyes burning with rage, “I have been loyal to this service for twenty-seven years and this is how I am repaid!?”
“No one is questioning your length of service, Hank.” I stand from the table, opening my drawer of toys, “but let’s not pretend it’s the organization that you serve, it’s yourself. Tell me why you had Olivia attacked.”
“Fuck you, Malakai.” His chains rattle, “You may as well kill me now, you won’t get anything from me.”
I pull the hammer from the drawer, “You ever broken a bone, Hank?” I judge the weight of the tool in my hand, watching as his eyes follow my every move, throat working on a swallow.
He doesn’t answer, not that I expect him to, but he follows me with his eyes as I walk around to his side of the table.
“Last chance.”
“Fuck you.” He spits.
I bring the hammer down, fast and hard, straight across his knuckles, shattering them on impact.
His scream of pain fills the space around us.
I bring the hammer down once more, straight across his knuckles again, further crushing his bones. His skin splits beneath the impact, covering the hammer and the table in blood when I bring it down a third time.
“Please!” Hank screams.
“You ready to talk?”
“You made it easy!” He cries, face wet with his tears, “Olivia was your weakness. You showed it to the whole fucking council!”
“What did you hope to achieve by taking her?” I ask.
He whimpers, staring down at his mangled and bloody hand, his fingers now pointing in every direction, the hand so beaten, bone and muscle stick out from between the brutalized skin.
I don’t hit him again, instead I take the head of the hammer and I start to move it through all that mangled tissue, the sound of the bone crunching and muscle squelching loudly in the quiet room. Hank cries, the pain unbearable. I can only imagine how it feels.
“Talk Hank, what was taking Olivia going to achieve?”
“Blackmail,” He cries. “We knew – we knew,” He cries as I keep moving the tool, keeping him motivated, “We couldn’t kill you. The council wouldn’t respect us if we did. We had to get you to stand down.”
