An idea comes to me, and I walk to the closet, grabbing the container.
“I’m going to give you one more opportunity to tell us where Elise is,” I explain, standing over her, my hand on the top of the dropper.
Madeline’s nostrils flare as she meets my eyes. “Fuck you and your opportunities. I’m not saying sh-.”
Before she can finish, I pour the bottle of hydrochloric acid down her leg, forgoing the dropper. Then I pour the lye on the newly exposed skin.
“Marinate for a while. I’m sure by the time we return, you’ll be singing a new tune,” I taunt, before signaling the guys to meet me by my computer.
“Did you really just tell her to marinate, like you just basted her with a marinade or some shit?” Owen snorts, wiping the blood off his blade.
I shrug, “I mean, with the lye, she’s pretty much cooking.”
He and Wyatt burst into laughter while I plug Madeline’s phone into my laptop.
“Do you think we’ll find anything on it?” Sebastian asks.
“Only one way to find out,” I reply without looking, my focus on the text messages pulling up on the screen.
Wes’s finger lands on the screen, honing in on a set of messages. “Does that say what I think it does?”
I nod, confirming what he said but keep sifting. We can digest all the information later. But, for now, I need to know if there’s anything in here I can use to get Madeline to cooperate.
After what feels like hours, I store the information we’ve found on my drive and send the files to Colt for a more in-depth analysis.
“We need her to tell us what she knows about Elise. Unfortunately, there wasn’t enough on her phone to discover her location,” I inform them.
Madeline screams from her spot on my table, and I’m tempted to shove a metal pipe down her throat to shut her the fuck up.
The last fucker on this table didn’t talk enough. Now, this bitch won’t stop squealing. If I were truly fucked in the head, I’d shove a knife inside her like she did to Summer— not that I cared for her. It was just a shitty way to die.
Looking at my watch, I notice it’s only been an hour since I doused her skin.
“Fuck, that looks fucking mangled.” Sebastian grunts when we finally reach the table.
Madeline’s skin is peeled away, exposing ligaments, bones, and tendons.
Grabbing a chisel, I round the edge of the table. “Let’s try this again. Where,” I lightly tap the bone. “Is.” I increase the force. She tries to move but can’t. “Elise?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she squeals.
She’s lying. Her eyes flit in every direction but mine, and her heart rate is galloping. That might have something to do with the needles being shoved under her nails by Sebastian, but I feel it in my gut— she knows more.
“Stop fucking lying to us,” Wes snaps, taking the chisel from my hand and stabbing it through whatever is left of her right leg.
“I’m not lying,” she screams. “The only person I was ever focused on was Ariah. It was my job to make sure she was in place, but never marry any of y-” Madeline stops the second she recognizes her slip up.
Not marry any of us? That’s not what Ariah said. Her distinct words were that her mother wants her to.
Before we can question her, foam starts to leak from her mouth, her head falls to the table, and sightless eyes stare up at me. Once her face droops to the side, a tooth falls from her mouth onto the metal slab.
“Fuck. Shit. Fucking dammit,” I yell.
“Cyanide,” Owen growls.
I yank my hair from its bun, trying to cool some of my anger.
“What if Ariah isn’t the endgame?” Wes voices my concern.
