“You want to be important so badly. So, let’s make you useful.” He glances at me. “Dredyn.”
I push off the chair.
Talon doesn’t look away from Chase as he says, “Go get my knife. Let’s start cutting bullshit off him, one piece at a time.”
I walk to the workbench under the stairs. The drawer opens and tools blink up at me under fluorescent lights. “You ever notice how Psi Theta men never break their own things?”
“I think you’ve lived your whole life with someone cleaning up after you. You break something? My daddy fixes it. Hurt someone? Talon’s daddy spins the story in court. Ruin a girl’s life?”
I pick up what I want and turn toward the both of them just as Talon says, “Jasper’s daddy buries it.”
I walk over to both of them, handing Talon the saw. “What’s your daddy going to do when he receives my gift?”
Talon takes the saw from my hand, his fingers tracing the teeth as Chase’s eyes lock on it. The arrogance drains out of him, much like the piss down his leg. “Last chance, Harrington. A name. A place. Anything to make this less... permanent.”
Chase jerks against the ropes, chair creaking under him. His breath comes in short, wet bursts. “You won’t—You can’t—My father?—”
I laugh. “When are you going to realize that you are disposable to these people? I can’t tell you how many bodies I’ve carried out of houses under the Syndicate’s payroll, and I’m justtwenty-two. Imagine our fathers’ body counts... But don’t worry, we’ll send him a souvenir so he knows we thought of him.”
Talon presses the flat of the saw to Chase’s thigh and a whimper slips out before he chokes it back.
“Start with a finger? Or an ear? Ears mail nicely.”
“Fingers are personal. Wrap it up pretty with a little bow. ‘Sorry about your son. Here’s a keepsake,’” I say, leaning against the pillar.
Chase thrashes, ropes cutting deeper. “Stop... please... You don’t understand... the Syndicate, it’s bigger than?—”
Talon’s already moving, pinning Chase’s left hand flat against the armrest, forcing the pinky straight. Chase screams before the blade even touches skin.
“No! No... wait?—”
A twist, a wet crunch, and the finger drops to the concrete with a soft plop, blood pumping in rhythmic spurts. Chase’s scream turns into something animalistic.
Talon lifts the finger to the light, inspecting his work. “Clean enough.”
I take it from him and slip it into a plastic bag I grabbed from the workbench. Then, I zip it shut, before tucking it into my pocket.
Chase slumps, sobbing, snot and blood dripping off his chin.
I pull my phone out of my pocket and dial. Nico is pre-med, top of his class, and, conveniently, owes us three favors.
I press call and it rings twice.
“Dude, it’s the middle of the night. If this is about bailing someone out of?—”
“I need you at the house. Basement entrance. Back door.”
Silence. Then, “Dredyn? What the fuck?”
“Nothing you haven’t studied for. Bring your fucking kit.”
Another pause.
“You want me to patch someone up.”
“I want you to keep someone alive. He stays breathing, he stays talking. That’s all.”
“You know you’re fucking insane.”
