I expected screams or yelling once that door was open, but only silence meets Killian from the other side.
“Oh, don’t be like that, Kurtis,” My brother cocks his head, something animalistic and predatory coming over him, “We didn’t hurt youthatbadly.”
“Fuck you,” The voice from the other side sounds slurred, but he’s talking, and that’s all I need.
My brother chuckles, “Come along, we need to talk.”
There’s a scuffle once my brother disappears inside, a couple of grunts but in the next minute he’s dragging Kurtis out, the man bound with his arms behind his back and his legs tied at the ankle, enough to hinder him if he tried to make a run for it but not so tight he can’t walk. His face is a mess. Swollen on one side, his skin a mix of black, purple, and blue. There’s both fresh and old blood on his skin, an open wound actively bleeding in his hairline. There’s blood on his shirt, more on his pants, and he’s missing his shoes.
His one open eye finds me as I lean on the wall, arm in its sling, with my free hand in the pocket of my pants. I wore contacts today. Having slept better than I have in ages the night before,my eyes didn’t feel irritated, which meant getting them in was a breeze. Plus, glasses in these situations only hinder me. It only takes a well-aimed strike to knock them off, and then I’d be blinded.
“How are you doing, Kurtis?” I give him an easy smile.
Instead of answering, he attempts to spit toward me, but thanks to the swelling in his lips, all it does is dribble out of his mouth and down his chin, a string of saliva dangling from the corner of his mouth.
“Charming,” I push off the wall, ignoring the smart in my shoulder. “Not really the place to have an attitude, though is it?”
“I ain’t fucking talking,” He snaps out the best he can.
“Is that so?” I head to the end of the table with the drawer and pull out the chair, lowering myself into it. “Did you really think I wouldn’t find you?”
“It wouldn’t have mattered if you had died like you were supposed to,” Killian forces him into the chair beside mine, attaching the bindings and tying his hands together to hoops attached to the back of the chair. He then does the same to his legs, keeping him pinned like an animal. The worst he could do is knock himself over, which’ll just be more humiliating than the state he’s already in.
There is no dignity here. No mercy.
“And if you had done your job correctly, that might have happened, but alas, here we are. Do you always miss, or is this a new thing for you?”
I see my words chipping at what’s left of his exterior. He’s been humiliated. Beaten. Now I’m feeding the inner rage. He’s about three minutes from exploding.
Raised in an alcoholic household, he grew up lashing out. At school. In the streets. Perhaps someone could have helped him then, taken him in, and changed him, but it’s too late now. He has been molded into what he is today, and Richard Taylor took that and used it for his gain. I’m not judging him for it, of course, how can I, when I work for an organization that hires mercenaries and takes the profit for their kills? When I have been a hitman before, I have taken jobs and been paid when it’s completed. I was just like Kurtis until I wasn’t. Until I used what had happened and became something better.
“Shame I missed that pretty thing with you,” Kurtis sneers, “I bet she would bleed so prettily.”
My fingers curl against the top of the table, and to my right, I see my brother step up.
“I guess you’ll never know,” I shrug, playing it off. “But enough of this, perhaps we can reach a deal?”
The lie is smooth and easy. I’ve never claimed to be a man of my word, not down here, and giving false hope to get what I want rolls off my back.
“Like I already said,” Kurtis attempts to lean forward, but his restraints stop him, “I ain’t fucking talking.”
“Really?” Nonchalance is my mask as I check my nails and then buff them against the breast of my shirt. “So you’ll protect a man who hasn’t even asked about you? Hasn’t even looked? I thought you two were close.”
Kurtis snaps his teeth together, and I lean forward, resting my elbow on the table so I can place my chin in my hand.
“I bet if I asked him, he’d tell me you did this all by yourself.”
“You’re lying,” He growls.
“Am I?” I hold his stare, “Or did you get back to his base the day of the shooting to find him disappointed?”
I’m going so fucking low here.
“Disappointed like your daddy was disappointed that time you came home from school with a black eye. Not concerned. Not sad. Disappointed because you didn’t hit back.”
“How — how do you know that?” He stutters.
“I know everything, Kurtis, which is why I know Mr. Taylor is not looking for you, not even concerned. He’s probably trying to figure out how he can cover his back because we all know you didn’t come for me off your own back, did you? Richard gave the order.”
