Five hours and forty-two minutes. That’s how long I’ve been in this godforsaken chair.
If anything, my ass hurts from the hard metal underneath it more than anything else. It’s a constant dull ache, whereas the bruises on my face and cuts made into my neck and chest go numb after a few moments.
“Tell me what you know,” he says for the twentieth time. As if he doesn’t know anything better to use. “If you just tell me what information you got from Alessio, this can be all over.”
It would be over, but so would anything meaningful I have in my life. Would I be able to live with myself afterward? Yes. I would—but would I want to? Not particularly.
I’ve done worse things than hand over sensitive information to a parasitic mafia boss, but this time…this time there’s more to it.
Alessio.
I can’t get him out of my head. The way his mouth fits so perfectly against my own. The way his body feels underneath my hands…
Thinking about how warm we feel pressed chest to chest is what helps me get through this.
Imagining the way he’ll smile at me and how I’ll kiss that smile… It helps me tune out the pain.
Still, I grunt softly as a knife blade digs into my now bare shoulder and slices me open. Blood drips down my arm and soaks into the ropes around my wrists.
“Or maybe you like this?” he asks me. “Are you some sick freak who’s into being tortured?” He cuts me again, this time in an X pattern from the other side of the wound he just made.
I grit my teeth and ignore the drag of the knife that cuts me open and makes my blood pour even more heavily. It’s worth it. This is all worth it if it means keeping Alessio safe.
One of the other guards lights up a cigarette and steps over to me.
“Let me have a turn at him,” she says.
“I’m not done yet, I’ve almost got him,” he insists.
He’s delusional, clearly. He does not “almost have me” in any way, shape or form.
I don’t say this though. I continue on my vow of silence as the woman steps over to me and leans down, blowing smoke into my face.
“We can make this even worse for you,” she reminds me. “And remember, whatever happens to you…even worse will happen to your precious Alessio Dresvanni.”
Not likely. Still, the thought that they might capture him just as they’ve captured me makes my hands ball into fists. This only causes the blood leaking out of me to do so quicker as my pulse races through my veins.
“Cat got your tongue?” she asks and places the cigarette closer to me.
The next second she presses the hot end of the cigarette to my collar bone and I feel my skin searing in a perfect circle. Of all the things they’ve done to me, this is actually the least painful. Burns are something I’ve handled before, as the scars on my back are a testament of.
I almost want to laugh at them for even trying it, but I keep my mouth closed.
I bite down on my tongue as I’m burned again and again, all the way up my torso to my jawline. On the face hurts more than on the rest of the body, but at this point I’m not concerned with the scarring so much as how much longer they’re going to continue this cat-and-mouse game before they realize I’m really not going to say anything.
I’ve been watching them for hours. I know exactly how they move. Where they prefer to stand in the room. I know the patterns of the guards on the doors. The best way to get their guns out of their hands and into mine. I’ve calculated everything down to how long it will take before the woman burning me will get tired of what she’s doing and pass it along to the next guy.
I even know that if I twist my wrists a certain direction, I’ll be able to get out of the ropes with just a little rope burn to show for it.
So, why don’t I just get it over with?
It’s not time.
They’re not fatigued enough. I need to get them right at the edge of wanting to kill me.
“He’s being a pain in the ass,” the guard burning me says as she tosses the mostly finished smoke to the side and pulls out her gun. “Why don’t we just end him here and now. He’s not going to say anything.”
She places her gun to my head.
