"Very well." Miller tilts his head toward Silver.
Harry laughs. "What is this? Some bullshit good cop bad cop thing?"
Miller, his tone cool and collected, says, "Oh, no, you're mistaken. There is no good cop."
Silver comes over with a pair of pliers in both of his hands. He gives one of them to Miller and each of them holds one of Harry's wrists as they position the plier in place.
"Last chance?" Miller offers him.
"Get on with it," Harry tells them.
Silver and Miller comply, both latching onto a fingernail on each hand and ripping it off in one solid yank. Harry grunts and cusses but holds it together rather well.
I pinch my lips together as the phantom pain rips through me. Cora remains in front of me, seemingly unbothered from where I stand.
"Is that all you got?" Harry taunts his tormentors.
Is he fucking stupid, or has he completely lost his fucking mind?
Miller nods at Silver, and they waste no time ripping another fingernail off each hand. Miller follows it up by slamming the pair of pliers into Harry's hand, the excessive crunching sound no doubt confirming the broken bones.
Miller stands and gives Silver his pliers. "Get a hammer," he tells him.
Silver calmly returns to the table of torture tools, discards of their pliers and retrieves Miller’s requested item, picking something up for himself, too, that I can't quite make out from here.
"I've already figured out that you're the mole," Miller tells Harry. "Which makes total sense. You were a great worker bee, until lately..."
"What I want to know," Silver says when he approaches. "What did you gain from it?"
"I'm not telling you shit." Harry spits on the ground near Miller.
Miller takes the hammer from Silver and shrugs. "Okay." He lowers himself and says, "Are you sure?"
"Fuck off."
Miller draws the hammer back and thrusts it right down onto Harry's foot, breaking it to go along with his smashed hand. He spares him no mercy and reels it back again, hitting him harder the second time around on the same foot. Even with him wearing a shoe, there's no saving him from that impact.
"Goddamn it!" Harry yells and winces.
Silver latches onto Harry's ear and holds what I think is a knife along the rear of it. "Talk to us, Harry. It doesn't have to be like this."
But Harry isn't ready, or willing, so Silver tugs on his ear and slices it clean off, discarding the dismembered flesh onto the crinkling plastic sheet beneath them.
"Step back," Silver tells Miller as he tosses his blade onto the tray and rolls up his sleeves. "Let me have a little fun with him."
Miller complies, standing to give Silver some space and watches as he lands blow after blow across Harry's face.
Cora reaches her arm between us and leans into me. She fumbles with my hand and brushes against my dick, the thing betraying me and going hard at the slightest touch.
She abandons her pursuit of my hand and cups my cock through my pants, stroking it gently.
My eyes close, and I breathe her heavenly scent in as I ignore what's really going on around us.
But it's impossible, because what I see when I close my eyes is blood, and although that should make my erection disappear, it doesn't, and that worries me more than anything.
Cora turns around to face me, her hand quickly unbuttoning my pants and sliding under the waistband of my boxers. She licks her lips and nudges me backward, just out of immediate range of Silver and Miller.
"Cora," I whisper, my breath catching.
